Free Star Kissed: A Crane Series Romance by Nancy Warren Page A

woman who gives too much and doesn’t always think of herself.” He hugged her, thinking he’d rarely seen anyone so generous and wondered why she felt the urge to keep giving without taking proper care of herself. He had to wonder whether she was like that in other areas of her life and felt a quick stab of guilt. Was she being too generous with him? But he stopped himself from going down that path. He’d been clear from the start that he was here to party. She understood, because she was a partier too. Though, when he stopped to think about it, she’d shown no interest in anyone but him since he arrived.
    “You’re frowning,” she said. “Okay, I guess I can stand an allowance. So long as you don’t tell anybody.”
    He let his uncomfortable thoughts go and promised to keep his lips sealed about her allowance.
    “Thank you,” she said when they were done and she had a simple system to follow.
    “You’re welcome. Now, do I get a reward?”
    She grinned at him in that way he loved that had his body already tightening in anticipation.
    “Yeah,” she said. “You get a reward. I’m taking you shopping tomorrow.”
    His erection wilted along with his smile. “Shopping?”
    “I can’t stand it another minute. You dress like my dad.”
    Mark gazed down at his crisp navy Dockers and checked golf shirt. “I’m guessing he’s not a really hip guy.”
    “He’s all right for a fifty-five-year-old, but you’re young. You need to start acting like it.”
    “I have two words for you,” he said advancing on her. Her eyes crinkled.
    “What?”
    “No yellow.” And then he scooped her up, giggling, and hauled her up the stairs to bed.
     
    Mark wondered if it was some Australian courting ritual he’d never heard of when he began to notice the women of Crane glancing surreptitiously at his crotch. Even a few of the guys were doing it. After checking to make sure he was zipped and hadn’t inadvertently dropped something in his lap, he decided it was some kind of cultural thing and filed it away for future reference. He wondered if he was supposed to reciprocate.
    He’d always understood Australians to be an earthy people, but he’d never heard of this crotch-checking business before. He’d have to ask Bron. He’d feel a little strange telling her about the crotch thing, though, in case she thought he was coming on to other women. Which, surprisingly, he had no interest in doing. He’d gone out with her on the weekend more as a matter of form than that he really cared to meet any women.
    They’d shopped, and argued like crazy trying to find him clothes they could both live with, then they’d gone to some party or other, but he’d pretty much never left her side all evening. He’d already worked out that if he was free to date other women then Bron was free to date other men, and as far as he was concerned, it wasn’t going to happen. After almost two weeks in Sydney, he had to admit he’d struck out spectacularly in the slutting-around department. But, he kept reminding himself, there were no rules. If he wanted to bed the same woman every night—hell, every morning, early evening after they got home from work, and any snatch of time they felt like it, then why shouldn’t he?
    He was seeing plenty of Sydney, enjoying the challenge of work, and he’d formed a few friendships of his own. Bill had taken him fishing and they hadn’t caught anything, but they’d drunk some beer and toured the amazing coastline around the city. He’d gone surfing with Bron and a few of the guys from the office and been amazed at how much he liked the sport. He’d forgotten the thrill of being picked up and carried by a wave, the heart-pounding excitement mixed with fear as the wave curled above you and the world was nothing but a noisy blue tunnel.
    And Bron! When he’d jokingly likened her to a mermaid, he hadn’t been far off. Bron perched on a surfboard, her hair and body golden as she rode waves like they were