The Rules of Engagement Read online

  The only thought that filtered into the void in his head, floating like a thin silver ribbon in gentle free fall, was if ever there was a week when he’d most needed to find a woman who brought him no extra stress, and who explicitly wanted a no-strings fling, this was it.

  Karma had finally decided to pay up.

  * * *

  Caitlyn lay curled up on her bed, her breaths finally returning to something akin to normal.

  Dax’s arm lay heavily across her waist as his breaths took on the even deep rhythm of a man asleep. While her mind spun a million times a minute.

  What they’d experienced hadn’t been so much the fun, frolicsome, yogic athleticism she’d promised Franny. Neither had it been the hot lusty sex they’d experienced before.

  This had been deeply sensual.

  Her bones felt like warm butter. She was acutely aware that the skin from her toes to her scalp was all one piece as it hummed the same note. Her blood throbbed so powerfully, so deeply, it was as if it had found the pulse of the earth. Emotion still ran so high within her every now and then she had to fight back tears of relief that were stinging the backs of her eyes.

  That hadn’t felt like simple sex with a semi-stranger. She’d looked into him, let him see into her. It had felt like making love.

  ‘It wasn’t,’ she whispered aloud, biting her tongue when Dax moved slowly behind her, his big body folding itself divinely around hers.

  It was just sex, she told herself silently this time. It was just that he was so very very good at it. Or maybe they were simply very very good at it together.

  In an effort to make sure, she was forced to do exactly what she’d been trying to avoid doing—she thought about her past boyfriends. She had to in order to make sure Dax was different, and that the very fact that their chemistry was so awesome was a good thing, and not a portent of impending doom.

  The guys she dated were usually nice guys. Sweet and uncomplicated. Like human Labradors. The kind of men who poured affection on a girl as soon as looking at them. The kind of affection she always mistook for true love.

  Dax on the other hand was razor-sharp. She wondered if he was even a little restless. Sometimes it felt like being with her gave him an out for a while. That made him complicated enough it’d take a lifetime to unravel him.

  She ran a gentle finger down his arm, over the long thick veins straining near the surface, through the light spray of dark hair, over the large bones of his wrist, and across fingers that could make a woman’s body feel as if it were being turned inside out.

  Maybe that was her biggest safety net of all, that he was too much for her. Looking up at him always made her breathless, as if she were breathing rarefied air. And he had this kind of restrained power pulsing just beneath his skin, the kind that often made her feel small. Delicate even. Not herself at all.

  Dax Bainbridge was too complicated, too strong, too beautiful. Too much.

  She breathed in deep, and breathed out comforted. With all that going on she was in absolutely no danger of falling into the same old trap of thinking herself in love with him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘ANOTHER, and make it a double!’ Franny demanded of Ivan the bartender after her date had kissed her on the back of the hand and excused himself to ‘freshen up’.

  Caitlyn sat next to Franny on their usual barstools at the Sand Bar, trying to keep a straight face, but in the end she cracked up laughing. ‘Where on earth did you find that guy?’

  Franny crumpled until her face landed in her palms. ‘Mymothersetmeup.’

  ‘I’m sorry, did you just say your mother set you up?’

  ‘He’s her hairdresser’s son. She promised me Jace was tall, had a job, and his own apartment—’

  ‘Clearly we should book the wedding chapel immediately!’

  Franny sobbed. ‘Why me?’

  ‘Because you’re not in the least bit picky.’

  Franny sat up and glared. ‘At least mine turned up. Where’s yours?’

  Caitlyn opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. Franny knew how to push her buttons, that much was sure. She’d played her good, mooching about the apartment because Caitlyn had stumbled on the perfect non-relationship—poor Franny couldn’t even manage that, so please please please could they double date just this once?

  When Franny disappeared into her cocktail Caitlyn glanced discreetly at her watch, then her phone, then towards the door, her towering black satin heels slapping restlessly against the soles of her feet.

  If Dax didn’t turn up, she couldn’t blame him. The second she’d opened her mouth to ask, she’d known it was blurring the edges of what they were doing. But then after a painfully long pause, he’d agreed, only if she promised to make it worth his while. As if that were any kind of punishment!

  But the truth was, a couple of times when they’d hooked up in the past few weeks she’d found herself feeling things. Delicious addictive things. Things she ought not to have been feeling, for damn sure. She’d partly gone through with Franny’s plea because the thought of having a chaperone or two for a night felt like a good thing.

  The music shifted tone. Loud thumping beats reverberated through her body. She squirmed on her stool, tugging tastefully at her lacy black cocktail dress with the deceptively demure shoulder frills that only brought the attention to the not-so-demure neckline.

  She was wearing new lingerie. She’d seen them in a shop window on the way to work and thought of Dax. Of Dax taking them off with his teeth to be more precise. She’d bought the set without even looking at the price tag.

  They were frilly and peach-coloured and soft as baby’s breath. And just a little itchy to tell the truth. Or maybe that was just her body’s reaction to the knowledge Dax would be there soon, his warm hand finding any excuse to touch her, his delicious scent wrapping itself tight around her, her nerves jangling every time she caught his dark gaze drifting over her bare skin.

  Just then something in the bar changed, the atmosphere around her shifted, thickened and she spun on the stool to find Dax walking towards her. In place of his usual suit and tie he wore dark jeans, a chocolaty linen jacket, and a cream V-neck sweater. He was unshaven. His dark hair a little spikier than usual.

  To the untrained eye he might have appeared perfectly casual, perfectly appropriate for the venue. To Caitlyn—whose heart leapt into her throat—he looked positively dangerous.

  His eyes found hers, the dark hazel depths glinting. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. The music was drowned out by the sudden rush of blood in her ears. And as his eyes took in her dress, her formidable shoes, the daring V at her décolletage, the smile deepened in appreciation and she felt herself go over all faint.

  So much for the safety of numbers. She had the feeling if he had the inclination to sweep the drinks and pretzels from the bar so that he might take her then and there she wouldn’t have it in her to stop him.

  Thankfully he had more restraint. When he approached he leaned down and kissed her. On the mouth. A long, slow, deliberate kiss that showed the world—or at least those inside the bar who happened to be looking their way—that the dress and shoes were for his benefit, not theirs.

  Then the kiss lingered. Deepened. She felt all resolve begin to dissolve. Oh, God!

  She pressed her hand into his chest and pulled away, breathless and slightly shaken. A muscle twitched in his jaw as his hot dark eyes burned into hers.

  A hand jabbed in between them, reminding them both they weren’t alone.

  ‘Hiya! I’m Franny. You must be Caitlyn’s guy.’

  Her guy? Caitlyn turned just enough to glare at her. ‘Franny, this is my friend Dax Bainbridge. Dax, Franny Anderson.’

  She noticed a slight cooling in Dax as he took Franny’s hand. Not aloofness as such, just a cessation of heat. Heat that was meant for her alone. She bit back the unexpected smile that she felt blooming right down in her stomach.

  ‘Frances?’ Dax asked.

  Caitlyn
watched in no surprise as Franny melted under his attention. ‘Francesca.’

  ‘Lovely. A pleasure to finally meet you, Francesca.’

  Franny blushed, and giggled, and finished off with a hiccup. Caitlyn had to give her friend a bump so that she’d let go of Dax’s hand.

  He said, ‘I was led to believe there would be a fourth.’ Dax moved nearer, and Caitlyn clenched her buttocks on the stool so as not to sway towards him. Until his hand slid to her lower back, branding her with its heat, reminding her the price she was yet to pay.

  ‘Hmm?’ Franny hummed.

  ‘Jace,’ Caitlyn reminded her. ‘Your date.’

  Franny’s memory returned with all the subtlety of a bucket of iced water over her head. She shuddered, sucked down the rest of her cocktail, motioned frantically to Ivan behind the bar for another, then with her lip curled said, ‘He’s off somewhere reapplying his lipstick.’

  Dax managed to keep a straight face while turning to Caitlyn, a subtle question in his eyes.

  She said, ‘You’ll understand soon enough.’

  ‘I can’t wait.’

  Dax’s eyes narrowed, and focused, and Caitlyn knew without any doubt that which he couldn’t wait for had nothing to do with Franny or her date. She had to cross her legs so as to contain the fire lighting her up from the inside.

  * * *

  Later, after a strange and memorable dinner, as the menfolk sat at their corner table talking baseball, or football, or balls of some kind, Caitlyn and Franny took the opportunity to sit at the bar and compare notes.

  ‘You are a stronger woman than I,’ Franny said with a sigh. ‘I wouldn’t have the hide to call sleeping with that gelato sex—’

  ‘Sorbet.’

  ‘Right. But sorbet’s so cold, and he’s just so big and yummy and intense. I’d call it...flambé sex!’

  Caitlyn’s gaze wandered over to Dax. She sucked the cherry from her cocktail stick and let it slide around the inside of her mouth.

  Franny’s voice sounded as if it were coming from a long way away when she said, ‘It’s like you are flambéing away all thoughts of old flames, yes?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Now, that didn’t sound as vehement as I would have liked. What’s going on?’

  ‘It’s fine. Great even. Flambé central. Only... Only I’ve had a few moments when I’ve felt myself slipping. Just a little. Franny, my will power just sucks.’

  The truth was she’d never been that good at denying herself, a definite leftover from her dad. Her mum could go months without calling after one of their many ‘differences of opinion’, her will power was that exceptional, whereas her dad had been impossible to pin down. He’d tried staying home but in the end the call of adventure was always greater. In the end it had killed him.

  Falling for every guy she met wasn’t going to kill her. But emotionally? It was like a slow, unpleasant haemorrhaging of her heart, and of late she’d become frightened that one day she’d wake up to find there was simply nothing left.

  ‘Rubbish,’ Franny shot back. ‘I have no will power. You can look at a glass display filled with cakes and choose the apple strudel. I will always, and I mean always, pick the double devil chocolate mud cake, no matter how much I know it’s bad for me.’

  Caitlyn frowned, paying close attention to the jittery feeling watching Dax created inside her. ‘Maybe. But when it comes to men... That’s where I always fall down.’

  Franny’s silence was a sign of her tacit agreement.

  Caitlyn said, ‘I try to be good. I really do. But when a guy gets that look in his eye—’

  ‘I know the look you mean. Like it’s taking every ounce of will power he has not to gobble you up.’

  ‘No. Not that. When a man looks at me like he can’t believe that of all the men in the world I picked him...’ Caitlyn’s shoulders rounded as a familiar liquid warmth shot through her. ‘I just can’t resist.’

  Franny cleared her throat. ‘Honey, that’s not will power. Will power is being confronted with the “gobble you up” look and managing to keep your undies on. As for that other look? That’s being in love with the idea of being in love.’

  ‘No. No! No?’

  ‘Think about it. When you have to say no you can. How many relationships have you ended? Not just the engagements, but even before you started taking things to such extremes? You have will power. You only seem to wield it when you have no other choice.’

  With three cocktails and a pretty meagre plate of barbecue calamari taking the edge off, Caitlyn’s defences were pretty tenuous and she let all that sink in. Franny had made a fair point. Maybe even two. She did have the will power to do the right thing, she only needed to learn how to exercise it more sensibly.

  Breaking into her big epiphany, Franny said, ‘The big question is, is Dax double devil chocolate mud cake or is he apple strudel?’

  Caitlyn quietly thought that the big question was, with her history, would it make any difference?

  ‘Either way I like him,’ Franny said decidedly. ‘Don’t panic. You can have him.’

  Caitlyn laughed, rather glad the subject had been changed. ‘Can I now?’

  Franny nodded. ‘I prefer my men more...’

  ‘Dumb?’

  ‘I was going to say happy-go-lucky, but okay. Brawn over brain suits me just fine.’

  Caitlyn kept her next thought to herself. The knowledge that Dax had it all. Brawn, brain, wit, and more sex appeal than a room full of firemen.

  As if he’d been summoned by her very thoughts, Dax’s warm hand landed on her waist. Her breath hitched in her throat as he spun her around and into a solid wall of male chest. Her hands curled around a pair of cool jacket lapels, reminding her vividly of the first time they’d met.

  ‘Dance with me,’ Dax said, and it wasn’t a question.

  Franny’s envious sigh barely registered in the periphery of Caitlyn’s consciousness.

  Franny said, ‘Dance with the man, for Pete’s sake. I’d better go track down my very confused date.’

  * * *

  Two slow songs in Caitlyn felt so loose and warm she leant her head on Dax’s chest, enjoying the unfamiliar feeling of a man who could lead. He had such grace and timing it was easy. Natural. Sexy as hell.

  She snuck her hand from his shoulder into the hair at the back of his neck, loving the feel of all that velvety softness raking against her sensitive fingertips.

  Dax’s hand slid down onto her hip, pressing her so close that every bit of her body that could found a companion in every bit of him.

  It occurred to her for a brief moment that anyone watching would have no doubt they were in the midst of a particularly sensual and very public bout of foreplay. Right on top of that it occurred to her that she simply didn’t care.

  It felt too good. He felt too good.

  Whatever they were to one another—sorbet or flambé—when she was in his arms all she knew was that it didn’t feel the same as before. There was none of the panicked impatience to get things moving faster, deeper, as though if he didn’t declare his undying love for her, and soon, the affection fix she so desperately craved simply wouldn’t be enough any more.

  For the first time in as long as she could remember, she was living in the moment, and loving every second of it.

  ‘Cait.’ Dax breathed against her hair.

  She lifted her heavy head and looked up into his dark hazel eyes. Her chest rose and fell. Hard.

  ‘Have I told you how sensational you look tonight?’ he asked. ‘How I’ve had a hard time keeping from doing something that might get us both arrested for public indecency?’

  His words sent a frisson of sexual heat rushing through her veins. It landed with a pulsing thud in the backs of her knees. Oh, yeah. Loving. Every. Second.

  ‘No,’ she purred, ‘you have not.’

  ‘No? Really?’

  Dax looked away. And said nothing more. She slapped him on the chest, her hand bouncing off his hardness before curl
ing into the soft top.

  ‘What?’ he asked, his beautiful face a picture of innocence.

  ‘I think you may find you were halfway through a conversation before zoning out there, buddy. Something about my general sensationalness...’

  ‘Fishing for compliments now, are we?’

  She laughed so loud she felt several heads turn her way. Including Franny’s, which was grinning mushily at her. She lowered her voice as she said, ‘You’re a bad man.’

  ‘You’re dating me, so what’s that say about you?’

  Her heart did a few extra bumps against her ribs. They were dating? That was new. Was it a step up from casual, or simply another word for the same thing? It didn’t imply anything exclusive, but did leave room for future dates. Okay, she was comfortable with that.

  Or as comfortable as she could be while the hand at her hip began to stroke possessively, tugging the hem of her dress up her thigh and down again, his little fingers sliding seductively across the top of her buttocks.

  His thumb somehow hooked into the minuscule ribbon of satin that held her underwear on and he stopped dancing. The music throbbed, the dance floor pulsed, and the two of them stood in the middle, staring into one another’s eyes, bodies so tight not a slip of light had a hope of blinking between them.

  ‘What are you wearing under this thing?’ His voice was deep and strained, as if it was taking everything in his power not to slide her dress to her waist to find out.

  ‘Not much,’ was all she said. All she could say before her throat clogged with desire.

  As Dax’s grip upon her tightened he looked at her as if he wanted to gobble her up, and Franny was dead right. That look was impossible to resist.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said.

  ‘But Franny and Jace—?’ Caitlyn said, somehow remembering they weren’t the only two people on the earth.

  ‘Are happily comparing their favourite musicals, and can look after themselves. While you and I have better things to do.’

  His eyes were so dark she could barely make out their colour. She swallowed. Nodded. Felt her hand become enclosed in his. He led and she followed as they pressed through the crowd to their table where he grabbed his coat, her purse and her fluffy black jacket, and out of the door they went.