Bounty Bay’s marae, a meeting place for the local Māori iwi or tribe, was the perfect place for an afternoon of baking mayhem. Perched on a rolling hillside that overlooked the stream, the cluster of single-story structures with the marae’s traditional carved amo either side of the main building’s entrance was both beautiful and deeply spiritual. More than that, a marae was central to the Māori community and used for everything from weddings to meetings for the local iwi and hapu to a funeral tangi. The old-style but scrupulously cleaned and cared for kitchen facilities catered events held at the marae, because food and hospitality were important parts of Māori culture.

Nat organized parents and other volunteering adults to help the teenagers prepare and bake a range of cakes, cookies, and cupcakes to sell. It’d been a huge undertaking, and the past two weeks since the girls had won their first game against East Coast High School had flown by in a blur. A blur in which she’d only spoken to Isaac during their morning runs and at after-school training. Frustrated, horny woman, much?

Two Saturdays ago the girls had lost by five points to St. Mary’s College and last Saturday tied with Paihia High School. But their spirits were good, and all the team had shown up to help with the baking and packaging of items that needed to be prepared fresh for the next day. Nat had a rotating roster of jobs for the girls including the actual baking using the marae kitchen’s four big ovens, with other groups icing cupcakes, packaging cookies and fudge in pretty plastic bags, and pricing items. With parent help came younger siblings. On the marae’s grassy slopes a small herd of kids played with helpfully volunteering dads to keep them out of the way of the budding chefs.

Nat had also called in favors with some of her newer friends. Savannah Payne, a former actress who now taught drama classes to local kids, was playing tag with Charlie, William, and a few other kids Nat didn’t recognize. Savannah’s husband, Glen, a novelist working on this third book, sat with a smaller group of quieter kids—probably spellbinding them with one of his stories.

Lauren Fraser and her husband, Nate, were supervising the cupcake frosting station in the dining room next to the kitchen. Nat glanced over and spotted Nate smiling down at his wife, holding out a finger with a dollop of pink frosting on it for her to lick. He murmured something and smiled, then pressed his palm to the swell of her stomach. Twins, they’d discovered at their first scan. Nate had taken to calling them ‘Thing One’ and ‘Thing Two’ whenever his wife wasn’t in earshot, since it was too soon to discover the babies’ gender.

“They’re supercute, huh?” Gracie said from beside Nat at one of the long wooden tables, packing little bags of fudge. “I can’t wait until my brother knocks up Sav so I can be an auntie again.”

“What’s knocked up mean?” piped a little voice from beneath the table.

Gracie and Nat glanced at each other and ducked down to spy Drew, six-year-old big brother of the unborn twins. He wore his favorite Superman T-shirt and sat cross-legged licking frosting off his fingers. Nate’s stepson was the most excited of their little family to be having not one but two siblings on the way.

“Oops,” Vee said, having arrived at their table in time to overhear Drew’s comment. She picked up two small pieces of chocolate fudge from the tray, wrapped them in a paper napkin, and offered them to Drew. “Honey, would you mind going out and seeing if Ruby is still happy to stay with Sam? One of these pieces is for you and the other for her.”

“What about Sam?” Drew said with a frown. “I bet he’d like some, too.”

“Tell him he’s a big boy and can come in and get his own,” Gracie said. “And don’t let Owen spot you with that fudge—chocolate is his favorite.”

Drew grinned and cupped the fudge close to his chest as he hurried outside.

“You girls can take a break,” Vee said to Sapphire and Lynda who were tying ribbons around the bags of fudge. “I’ll cover you.”

The girls vanished after Drew, phones in hands, thumbs rapidly firing out updates to their friends.

Vee slipped into the seat one of the girls had vacated and propped her chin on her fist. “So,” she addressed Nat, “Isaac’s looking kinda hot in that Mr. Good Lookin’ is cookin’ apron the girls made him wear while he’s all MasterChef over the cake baking team.”

Nat’s gaze flicked through the open serving counter space into the kitchen for the hundredth time in the past thirty minutes. Isaac’s team consisted of five girls and Donna, who’d arrived late and inserted herself into the group without checking with Nat as to where she was needed. Isaac did indeed look hot in a snug-fitting gray Henley with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and blue jeans that made her mouth water every time she caught a glimpse of his tight rear filling them out.

Olivia held a large metal mixing bowl over a prepared cake pan, while Morgan scraped the gooey chocolate batter into it. Isaac stood at Morgan’s shoulder, apparently directing the process, and laughing at something Olivia said. Nat’s stomach went topsy-turvy watching the two of them and noting the ease in which Isaac had slipped under her carefully constructed maternal barriers and become a small but integral part of Olivia’s world.

“You and Isaac seem to be getting along better,” Vee said, dragging Nat’s attention back to the fudge-laden table.

“Much better,” Gracie agreed solemnly, then her face split into a cheeky grin. “The kind of better that comes from really good S-E-X,” she added, whispering the last spelled word.

Not that anyone would’ve overheard them with the noise of chattering teenagers and the cranked-up sound system blasting someone’s playlist throughout the kitchen and dining room.

Nat focused on tying the ribbon into a fancy bow on a completed packet of fudge. “We are getting along better. In fact, I’d say we’re friends again.”

“It’s definitely good to see him smiling again.” Vee pursed her lips. “The kind of smiling that comes from really good S-E-X.”

Gracie giggled and held out a fist for Vee to bump.

“Shut up, you two.” But Nat couldn’t prevent a flush of heat sweeping through her or her lips kicking up into a grin.

“Friends with benefits,” Gracie said. “Never gets old.”

“And please don’t tell me it was a one-night-only special.” Vee nibbled on a stolen piece of fudge. “Because in all seriousness, it’s good to see you smiling like this again.”

“Like what?” Nat asked.

“Like someone who’s lived through a long Antarctic winter in complete darkness and suddenly emerged into the summer sunshine,” Vee said.

“Very poetic,” Gracie said. “And I agree. I’d also add, if I didn’t think you’d kick my ass, that you look ten years younger.”

“Great bone-melting sex’ll do that—right, Nat?” Vee winked at her, then her mouth twisted. “Although sex of any kind hasn’t been on my radar for such a long time I think I’ve forgotten how tab A is meant to fit into slot B.”

“You just need a quick refresher course.” Natalie made the mistake of glancing into the kitchen again.

Isaac’s gaze met hers across the countertops and mixing bowls. Beside him, Donna’s mouth was in constant motion, but Isaac’s gaze remained locked with Nat’s. She should be used to his intensity by now. The way one loaded glance could cause her brain to empty of everything except wanting him.

She broke eye contact with Isaac and looked down at her hands. There was something she needed to get off her chest to her friends. “I asked Isaac to tell me about that night. About what happened with Lucy Gilbert.”

“Oh, hon,” Gracie said. “That must’ve been hard to hear.”

“It was time you heard his version,” Vee said. “Considering you’re bonking each other’s brains out now.”

“Vee!” Gracie’s shocked gaze flew to Nat, gauging her reaction.

“If I tell you we’ve bonked our brains out once, will you stop bugging me about it?” Nat said, but she managed a smile, knowing it was Vee’s way of trying to soothe some of the hurt she knew would’ve been raised by that conversation.

“Only once?” Vee asked, then waved a hand. “Never mind, we’ll discuss that part later. For now, what did he say?”

Nat’s stomach curdled around the few pieces of fudge she’d swallowed. “Maybe we should talk about the bonking.”

“If it were only about the bonking with you two, we would,” Vee said. “But we all know it isn’t, and we all know you need to get this off your chest.”

Yeah, her girls knew her too well, but that statement was getting a big fat pass from Nat because bonking, as Vee so delicately put it, was the only thing that was going on between them.

“He admitted his intention to sleep with Lucy that night,” Nat blurted, her hands curling into tight fists on the tabletop. “That he fought with Jackson about it outside the pub just before the car jumped the curb. I know everyone surmised that was what happened, since Lucy would never confirm nor deny it and Isaac claimed it was on his suggestion that the three of them left the pub together.” She pressed her lips into a thin, almost painful line. “But to hear him actually say it out loud…I can’t imagine how devastated his girlfriend must’ve been.”

“She broke it off with him via text message, so the magazines reported,” Gracie said. “She said the intention to cheat was almost as bad as if he had.”

“But is it a deal breaker if a guy doesn’t actually go through with it? Haven’t we all said that if one of the Hemsworth brothers came knocking, we’d go a-rocking?” Vee moved around the table to sit on Nat’s other side. “Are you wondering if Isaac’ll cheat on you?”

“We’re not exclusive,” Nat said, though her heart said otherwise.

“Not in my world view,” said Gracie. “Once I rock a man’s world, that man better not be sniffing around any other women until we both agree we’re done with each other.”

And were she and Isaac done with each other? Nat shot another glance into the kitchen. Isaac had pink spotty oven mitts on his hands as he carried a cake pan from oven to counter. He set it down to cool, his gaze unerringly finding hers through the gap of the serving counter. His mouth curving into a smile that told her he was probably picturing her naked, he lifted one mitt-covered hand and flexed his fingers, waving like a two-year-old, which, dammit, was bloody adorable. She rolled her eyes at him, then turned her attention back to Gracie and Vee, who stared at this exchange as if both Isaac and Nat had crash-landed from another planet.

“What the hell?” Vee said when Isaac turned away. “Gurl, if you’ve got Isaac doing cutesy stuff like that in public you’re both in a world of trouble.”

Gracie tilted her head, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. “He’s a smitten kitten,” she said. “Don’t think you need to worry about him stepping out on you.”

Vee nodded sagely. “The guy narked on his own sister for shoplifting a pair of flip-flops when she was eleven. Tui told me about it once. He made her return them to the store and apologize, which she said was humiliating, but he cut her a break by not telling their parents—unless she ever did it again.”

Gracie frowned. “That doesn’t sound like the kind of guy to screw around on a woman.”

Spidery shivers inched down Nat’s spine to sit icily in the pit of her stomach. Vee’s story and even Margaret’s a couple of weeks back were worms burrowing deep into her subconscious. And she didn’t like the feeling one little bit.

“People cheat for many different reasons,” she said. “I met Emily a couple of times while Isaac was with her. The last time I saw them together there was tension between them. Add being a long way from home, an attractive girl who flirted with him, testosterone of a win pumping through his veins, and alcohol…” She shrugged. “It happens.”

“But do you trust Isaac?” Gracie asked. “I mean, could you ever trust him the way you trusted Jackson?”

A long way from home, an attractive girl flirting with him, testosterone of a win pumping through his veins, and alcohol…

Isaac wasn’t the only one who fit that description.

No. Nat squeezed her fingers so tightly her nails dug crescent moons in her palms. She absolutely wasn’t going there.

With a superhuman effort, she unclenched her fists and peeled off another plastic bag to fill with fudge. “Jumping way ahead of yourself, Gracie. Our one night of commitment-free, X-rated adult fun does not mean we’re now in a relationship where trust may or may not be an issue.”

“Uh-huh.” Gracie loaded on the sarcasm.

“I smell a cop-out,” said Vee.

“Who’s having X-rated adult fun?” Owen materialized beside Gracie. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head then grinned at Vee and Nat. “And who needs a free pamphlet on STDs?”

“No one,” the women said in unison.

Owen slid into the seat beside Gracie and she leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder.

“Missed you, O,” Gracie said.

The ice in Nat’s stomach melted to a raw, acidic pool and she swallowed hard because she missed that kind of intimacy with a longing that burned to the bone.

Someone to lean on, someone who wanted to be with you when you’d only been apart for an hour. Someone to belong to, someone who’d call you tahu while he showed you that he belonged to you, too.

* * *

Isaac was hungry, and it wasn’t for one of Natalie’s damn cupcakes, though he chose a cream-cheese frosted red-velvet one and passed a five-dollar note to Rangi-Marie, who currently manned one of the bake sale tables.

“Can we keep the change?” she asked with a toothy grin. “We’re almost out of two-dollar coins.”

“You’ve already kept the change the last four times I’ve bought something.” He slanted a glance over to the second table where Nat stood counting bank notes in a plastic container. “I’ll go inside and get you some more coins.”

The fund-raising bake sale/auction had smashed expectations this morning, with the Far North putting on a brilliant blue-sky winter’s day. Parents and girls had been run off their feet for the past five hours since they’d started at nine, and only in the last thirty minutes had the Kauri Whare parking lot cleared enough for them all to relax.

Olivia, Morgan, Owen and a couple of other parents had left after completing their hour-long shift earlier, and gooey teddy bear he apparently was on the inside, he’d struggled not to get the warm fuzzies from seeing Olivia so happy. The sullen girl who’d knocked on his door had been replaced by a confident, enthusiastic doppelgänger who turned out to be one hell of a baked goods saleswoman.

Nat, unsurprisingly, insisted on helping for the entire five hours. Five hours running around making sure all the girls had enough change, bringing out more baked goods from the staff room, and convincing customers to bid high on the many donations she’d managed to score. Five hours on the go and she still looked sweeter and tastier than the cupcake he held. After all that lusty eyeballing they’d shared yesterday at his marae, he wasn’t just hungry for her, he was starving.

He polished off the cupcake in four big bites and strode over to Nat. His stomach still gave a roller-coaster swoop when she looked up at him with her big green eyes. They hadn’t spoken again about Jackson or Lucy or the accident, but the ripples that conversation caused between them were still apparent in the slight wariness within her gaze. Then the corners of her eyes crinkled into a smile.

“Another cupcake? What is that, an even half dozen?”

“More like a dozen,” he admitted. “I need to do something physical to burn off all that sugar.”

She made a soft humming sound in the back of her throat that caused his dick to sit up and take notice. “Me, too. I confess my weakness is vanilla fudge.”

Vanilla fudge had nothing on his weakness for her. He directed his gaze away from the swell of her breasts beneath the lightweight sweater dress she wore, and to the huge gnarled kauri log at the edge of the parking lot, the top section carved by Sam into the shape of a dolphin.

“Maybe you should come with me to secure that next lot of cash in my office safe.”

Which was a one-person job, but now he couldn’t for the life of him stop thinking about his office couch—and Natalie naked under him on it.

“And take the weight off your legs,” he added.

Her legs, lightly tanned and bare under the dress, called his gaze back to them with a siren’s song. He remembered too vividly the softness of her inner thighs as he’d run his lips over the silky skin.

“Hmm. The thought of stretching out on your couch for fifteen minutes is very tempting.” Nat snapped the plastic lid back on the cashbox and walked around the table to join him. “If we won’t be missed.”

Thankful for the tails of his button-down shirt draped over one helluva hard-on, Isaac signaled for Nat to wait and strode over to Rangi-Marie, dragging out his wallet as he walked. Once in front of her, he emptied every last coin from it into her cashbox.

“This’ll keep you going while I go make Nat a coffee inside.”

Rangi-Marie’s nose crinkled. “You’re always making her coffee. Like you’re her pet barista.”

Isaac was happy to be Nat’s pet anything, including her pet sex slave, but his little cousin didn’t need to know that. “How about I bring out a cold six-pack of Coke on the return trip?”

“Sweet as, cuzzy-bro.”

He allowed himself to be distracted for a second by the new ease with which he and Rangi-Marie now communicated. Olivia wasn’t the only one whose ’tude had softened toward him since he’d taken on the position of coach. And somehow he’d softened his ’tude toward them in return.

Isaac angled back toward Nat and they crossed the parking lot toward Kauri Whare’s staff entry in silence. The door swung open as they neared it and Uncle Manu stepped outside. He pinned the door open for them.

“Any baking left for me?” he asked and dug a hand in the hip pocket of his coveralls. “Think I’ve got a couple of dollars in here somewhere.”

“There’s plenty left,” Natalie said before Isaac could. “You just go and help yourself. Don’t worry about money, Mr. Ngata.”

Uncle Manu’s leathery brown face collapsed into a mass of wrinkles as he grinned at her. “Don’t you Mr. Ngata me, girl. You call me Uncle, or if this big makimaki doesn’t mind, you can call me anytime.”

“This big monkey pays your wages,” Isaac said.

“My nephew doesn’t want to share his beautiful wahine.” Uncle Manu winked. “Don’t blame him.”

Nat laughed, the sound fizzing through Isaac and arrowing straight to his aching groin. Was Natalie his beautiful woman? If the definition of ‘his’ meant he couldn’t imagine wanting any other woman as much as he wanted Nat, then, yeah. Natalie was his.

“Go stuff yourself with cake, Matua. On the house.” Isaac grabbed Nat’s hand and hustled her through the open doorway.

His uncle’s snickers followed them as they walked briskly down the hallway to Isaac’s office.

“No coffee?” Nat asked in a teasing tone as they passed the staff room. “I thought you told Rangi-Marie you were making me one.”

“I lied.” He dragged the keychain from his pocket and unlocked his office door.

He pushed the door open and went straight to the blinds covering the office windows, closing them. The soft click and pop of his office door shutting and locking came from behind him. He’d long suspected Nat had the uncanny ability to read his mind.

“So what were you planning to make me, if not coffee?”

He turned just as she tossed the plastic container of cash on his office chair. Then she leaned against the door, arms crossed under her breasts. Waiting.

Anticipation and arousal surged through him on a hot incoming tide.

“Well, for starters”—he closed the distance between them in three strides and braced his palms on the door either side of her shoulders—“how about I make you come hard enough to burn off at least a couple of thousand calories?”

She had time to inhale sharply and then his mouth was on hers. She did indeed taste of vanilla-y sweetness—sweet and hot, and inviting him to take everything he wanted. He leaned in, pressing hard to soft, and a whimper escaped her throat as her breasts crushed against him. Cupping her jaw, he changed the angle of the kiss, dancing his tongue along hers until the whimper turned into a moan and her hands snaked up his chest to twine around his neck. He got his free hand on her ass and she jumped into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his hips and her dress rode up her thighs, nothing between his straining cock and her except layers of cotton, denim, and some silky fabric he was about to tear off. Nat’s fingers tightened painfully in his hair as she squirmed in his arms, trying to get closer, trying to grind her hips and kiss the life from him in one desperate motion.

Good to know he wasn’t the only one starving. Good to have some semblance of control left to realize if he took her up against the door, odds were they’d end up crashing through it because gentle lovemaking was out of the question.

Nat nipped his lower lip as he broke the kiss, punishing him with another thrust of her hips. Shit yeah. Hard, merciless, thorough, but not gentle. He swung her away from the door and carried her to the couch. He sat with her straddling his lap and looking at him through her lashes.

“Take off your dress,” he said.

Her eyebrows rose in question.

“It’s pretty.” He let all the pent-up desire pumping through him show in his smile. “And I’d hate to have to tear it off you.”

Nat got hold of the dress’s hem and peeled it upward, revealing the scrap of black lace between her legs that remained pressed firmly against his cock, and a matching lacy bra that didn’t do a thing to disguise the jut of her nipples. By the time she’d dragged the garment over her head, Isaac had unhooked her bra. Her breasts swung forward at perfect mouth level, and he took advantage of it, leaning in to capture one perfect rosy nipple between his lips. He drew her deep into his mouth, her soft cries in his ears as he flicked his tongue against the stiffened tip, then encircled it with firm, sweeping strokes. After gliding his hands down her back, he reached the silky mounds of her bared cheeks and squeezed—thank God for whoever invented thongs—and he slipped a finger past the lace to find her wet and ready.

She rose up on her knees to give him better access, nails digging into his shoulder muscles. His fingers slid though her slickness to find the little bundle of nerves, swollen and demanding his attention. He made it his mission to keep his promise of making her come hard by giving it two hundred percent of his attention. Matching the rhythm of his flickering tongue on her nipples to his fingertips exploring her folds, Isaac teased and tormented her clit with firm strokes. He held her close even as she trembled and thrust against his hand. She came for him with a muffled cry, her mouth pressed against the side of his throat, her body quaking around the two fingers he’d slid inside her.

He gathered her up and pressed her down onto the couch, covering her with his body and kissing her until her nails raked down his spine to yank at the waistband of his jeans.

She ripped her mouth from his. “Off.” Her fingers scrambled under his shirt, trying to find a gap between them to reach around for his fly.

With her face flushed and eyes still a little unfocused, Isaac wasn’t sure stripping naked was the optimal usage of his time. He braced himself above her, going for the wallet in his back pocket while Nat’s hands shot to the button on his jeans. She’d unbuttoned and unzipped him by the time he’d dragged out his wallet and opened it one-handed, but he forgot about prying out his emergency condom when her hand dove under his knit boxer shorts and wrapped around his cock.

He arched into her touch and she continued to stroke him, head to root, her eyes fixed on his face, her breathing choppy. Their gazes linked in an intimacy that took animal lust out of the equation and replaced it with an emotional hollow in his gut that only Nat could fill.

“Isaac,” she said.

In her utterance of his name he heard how much she wanted him. The need she had for him to claim her, and the vulnerability that he wasn’t the only one with so much at stake.

He reached for his wallet which had slipped from his fingers to the floor, and tore into the condom wrapper. He drew Nat’s panties down her thighs and tossed them aside. Turning back to her, he did his best to imprint upon his memory the sight of her naked and relaxed on his couch, her legs parted ready for his bulk, arms spread wide to welcome him into her body.

How the hell had this booty call turned into something else?

Isaac shook it off and returned to her, easing between her thighs, grasping himself firmly to stroke the head of his cock through her slickness. She groaned and arched her back, fingers locked tight around his forearms as he nudged inside her. His teeth clicked together hard enough to shatter his jawbone as warm, tight wetness closed around him, drawing him farther inside. Sinking into her body was like slipping into a bliss coma, so many sensations clamoring through his system that it was all he could do to fight against the urge to rut like the prize bull on his dad’s farm. But once she locked her ankles across his ass and jerked her hips up to meet his, he lost the battle.

He reared back, then sheathed himself deep within her again. Nat cried out, releasing his forearms, and dragged her fingers up his back, scoring his flesh with her nails. He slammed into her again, pleasure and pain at war from the dig of her nails and the tightness of her body surrounding him. Another thrust, deep and true. Her eyes flew open, his name on her lips with a jagged inhale that was almost a plea. With his blood a rising thunder in his eardrums, he began to move with measured strokes, drawing out his pleasure—and hers—until she bowed beneath him. Her teeth dug fast into her lower lip as she quaked through her second climax.

His own release tightened in his balls, throbbed though every nerve and exploding brain cell as he surrendered to it with a growl and buried his face in her shoulder. For a drawn-out moment he wondered if the buzzing in his head was from the excess of sugar in his blood, or that Nat had somehow slipped beneath his guard and fizzed in his blood, more of a high, more addictive than an illegal drug.

Ten minutes later, and once again looking like the manager he was supposed to be—as opposed to a guy who’d just gotten very, very lucky—Isaac picked up a six-pack of Coke from the staff refrigerator and headed outside. Natalie had dressed and left five minutes ago to make a restroom stop, so she’d yet to appear when Isaac handed over the cans and rolls of one-and two-dollar coins to Rangi-Marie.

“Took you long enough.” Rangi-Marie spilled the coins into the cashbox. “Guess you’re not as good at making Nat coffee as you thought you were.”

A tap of heels sounded on the asphalt behind him, then Nat appeared in his peripheral vision as she ducked behind the bake sale table.

“Oh, he’s good,” she said to Rangi-Marie with a guileless smile. “I enjoyed Isaac’s coffee so much I had to have seconds.” Nat switched her smile to Isaac and it was no longer guileless but wicked with the satisfaction he’d hoped two orgasms had given her.

“It’s true,” he said. “I give good coffee.”

Rangi-Marie’s gaze switched between him and Nat, her nose crinkling. “You’ve really got to stop smiling so much. It’s creeping people out.”

Great sex—amazing fucking sex—would put a smile that big on any guy’s face. He gave Rangi-Marie an extra wide grin, and deliberately kept his face angled away from Nat. One glance at her in her clingy dress—minus her panties because he’d confiscated them with a promise that she’d come over to his place later in the week to collect them—and he’d be doing a Dukes of Hazard slide over the table to get his hands on her again.

“Hey, I’m a happy guy,” he said, and ignoring Rangi-Marie’s snort of disbelief, walked himself away from temptation.