The Price of Fame
Anne Oliver
Hiding from the paparazzi…in a sexy stranger’s hotel room! Her flight is cancelled. Her politician fiancé has dumped her. And the press pack are on her tail. Just another day for reclusive heiress Charlotte Dumont. Then handsome charmer Nic Russo offers her his hotel room to hide out in. Are there strings attached? Does she care?Charlotte has spent her privileged life keeping up appearances, staying in control, never letting go. Tonight, perhaps, she will go a little bit wild – with Nic. And then return to her buttoned-up self in the morning…‘Cleverly written, a pitch-perfect hero and heroine.’ – Nadine, Speech Therapist, Nottingham
This Christmas, we’ve got some fabulous treats to give away! ENTER NOW for a chance to win £5000 by clicking the link below.
www.millsandboon.co.uk/ebookxmas (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/ebookxmas)
‘There you are.’ Nic said the first thing that came to mind. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’
Charlotte blinked. One moment she was trying desperately to deny her identity to the press, the next she was being swept against some dark-shirted stranger with abs of steel who seemed to think she was someone else.
Large hands held her in place, and a deep voice against her cheek murmured, ‘Trust me and play along.’
For an instant a whole other ‘play along’ scenario scorched the back of her eyeballs as his lips teased and toyed with hers. She was vaguely aware of the voices around them blurring into one meaningless hum. This guy could kiss. Somewhere an inner voice warned her that she didn’t know him … but instead of easing away, as she should be doing, she kissed him back.
About the Author
ANNE OLIVER was born in Adelaide, South Australia, and with its beautiful hills, beaches and easy lifestyle, she’s never left.
An avid reader of romance, Anne began creating her own paranormal and time travel adventures in 1998 before turning to contemporary romance. Then it happened—she was accepted by Harlequin Mills and Boon for their Modern Heat series in December 2005. Almost as exciting; her first two published novels won the Romance Writers of Australia’s Romantic Book of the Year for 2007 and 2008. So after nearly thirty years of yard duties and staff meetings, she gave up teaching to do what she loves most—writing full time.
Other interests include animal welfare and conservation, quilting, astronomy, all things Scottish, and eating anything she doesn’t have to cook. She’s traveled to Papua/New Guinea, the west coast of America, Hong Kong, Malaysia, the UK and Holland.
Sharing her characters’ journeys with readers all over the world is a privilege and a dream come true.
You can visit her website at www.anne-oliver.com
Recent titles by the same author:
THE MORNING AFTER THE WEDDING BEFORE
THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT A REBEL
HER NOT-SO-SECRET DIARY
Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
The Price
of Fame
Anne Oliver
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHAPTER ONE
NIC RUSSO always planned for contingencies. The volcanic ash cloud from Chile sweeping across southern Australia had already disrupted air travel and any moment all flights out of Melbourne’s Tullamarine would be grounded.
His instincts were always spot on and Nic didn’t intend being one of those passengers caught up in the chaos.
In line at the airline’s business check-in, he speed-dialled Reception at the airport hotel, heard Kerry’s familiar, but somewhat distracted voice on the other end and smiled. ‘Hey, babe. It’s Nic.’
‘Nic, hi.’
‘How’s it going there?’
‘Hectic.’
‘I bet. Reckon I’m going to need that reservation after all.’
‘You’re not the only one. There’s a waiting list a mile long.’
‘Ah, but they don’t know the receptionist like I do.’ He grinned. ‘Connections, Kerry babe.’
‘Are everything. Right.’ He could hear the clatter of her fingers flying over her keyboard. ‘So … that’s for one guest?’
‘Depends …’ He deepened his voice and drawled, ‘What time do you get off?’
The muffled cough was laced with friendly amusement. ‘You’re incorrigible, Nic.’
‘So you keep telling me.’ He could envision the humour in her eyes and knew Kerry and her partner, Steve, would have a laugh over it later tonight. ‘If I’m still grounded when you get off, do you want to come by for a thank-you drink?’
While he talked, his attention was drawn to the slim brunette in line ahead of him. She’d been a passenger on his flight from Adelaide earlier in the day. He’d noticed her perfume then and he noticed it now—French and expensive but cool and light and refreshing.
Was it only her perfume that captured his interest? Neat and conservative weren’t his type but there was … something about her. Something timeless.
The notion tickled him for a moment. But only for a moment, because Nic didn’t do that nostalgic sentimental nonsense where women were concerned. In fact, he didn’t do sentimental, period.
But it was exactly how she made him feel, and that was weird. He could imagine standing behind her just this way on the edge of a still lake and watching the stars come out. Flicking aside her single strand of pearls and the glossy hair that had escaped its knot and putting his mouth right there, on that slender neck—
‘I’d love to catch up,’ he heard Kerry say, jolting him back to the noisy, overcrowded terminal, ‘but at this point with everything so uncertain I don’t know how long my shift’s going to be.’
‘No worries. You’re busy; I’ll let you get on with it. Maybe I’ll see you shortly. Ciao.’
He disconnected, his eyes still focused on the back of the woman’s neck. Shaking away the odd feeling she’d invoked, he studied her from a purely objective viewpoint. Who wore pearls these days? Unless she’d dressed for a royal garden party.
His gaze wandered over her shoulders, covered in a slippery-looking fade-into-the-background jacket, then down to a matching knee-length skirt over a well-rounded, caressable bottom. A sexy little handful. Warmth flooded his palm—and other places. He could do a tea party if it meant taking her home after …
Tea party? Pearls? Hell, if that turned him on, his libido needed some serious attention. It had been a dry couple of months, after all.
She’d been in the aisle seat one row back and across from him, plugged into her music player, eyes glued shut every time he looked, fingers stiff on her lap. No rings on her left hand, he’d noticed, but a heavy chunk of bling on her right. Maybe she suffered from the same affliction he did? But the suffocatingly claustrophobic effect of being hermetically sealed in a flying tin can was a tedious necessity in his life.
Whatever the reason for her tension, she’d been an intriguing distraction. Her apparent lack of interest had given him the opportunity to glance back every so often and wonder whether that peach-glossed mouth would taste as luscious as it looked. How she’d respond if he put his theory to the test. The expression he’d see if she opened those eyes and saw him watching.
He grinned to himself—yeah, that was more like him. The excitement of the chase, the inevitable conquest. And temporary. None of that timeless sentimental rubbish.
He shuffled forward with the line.
So she was also travelling to Fiji and flying Tabua Class. She didn’t look like a businesswoman; not in that insipid suit that whimpered ‘don’t look at me’, but she didn’t look like a tourist either. Maybe she’d have the seat next to him and he could spend the next few hours finding out what colour her eyes were and whether or not a hot-blooded woman lay beneath that drab, conservative exterior.
Assuming the aircraft got off the ground.
She stepped up to the counter and slid a high-end brand-name suitcase onto the conveyor. A moment later, he watched her walk away, those mystery eyes hidden behind a pair of supersized sunglasses. A celebrity or a wealthy socialite? he wondered, swinging his own travel-battered bag onto the conveyor and reaching for his documents. Whoever she was, he didn’t recognise her.
He proceeded to Immigration and Customs, unable to keep his eyes off the enticing sway of her backside a few metres ahead. Forget it, Nic, she’s not your type, remember? Except his body didn’t want to listen. So he deliberately stopped, shrugged off his jacket and stowed it in his cabin bag and studied the departures board a moment. He was supposed to be using the flight to brainstorm the ins and outs for his current computer game, not lusting after some unknown woman. Who wasn’t his type.
He’d not gone far when he caught sight of her again amongst the milling crowd. And all casual, carnal thoughts vanished. A reporter he recognised from one of the local gossip rags stood in her way. She was shaking her head and attempting to move on, but the guy, easily twice her size, was blocking her progress, shadowing her steps as he towered over her. Intimidating her.
Nic’s gut tightened reflexively as his own childhood images charged back. And now, as then, not a single person intervened or came to her assistance. No one cared, no one wanted to get involved.
No way. He swung his cabin bag over his shoulder and moved fast, the hand on the strap jammed into a fist. No way would he stand by and allow the bully to get away with it.
‘Leave me alone,’ he heard her say as he neared. She was standing her ground, one palm thrust in front of her, then she shook her head again, trying—and failing—to pass. ‘I’ve already told you, you’ve mistaken me for someone el—’
‘There you are.’ Nic said the first thing that came to mind. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’ Keeping his hands easy and non-threatening, he touched her rigid shoulders and turned her to face him.
Beneath her flawless complexion she looked pale and stunningly fragile, a vanilla rose facing the dawn of summer’s first heatwave. Up close her skin-warmed perfume was even more sensuous. Damn, what were her eyes saying behind that sunglass shield?
He didn’t take his eyes off her face, willing her to give him a chance to show he meant no harm, and said, ‘Clear off, mate, she already told you, you’ve got the wrong woman.’
Charlotte blinked. One moment she was trying desperately to deny her identity, the next, she was being swept against some dark-shirted stranger with abs of steel who seemed to think she was someone else.
Large hands held her in place and a deep voice against her cheek murmured, ‘Trust me and play along.’
She froze, her already hammering heart tripping against her ribs, her insides trembling. She couldn’t have freed herself anyway; she was gripping the handle of her cabin wheel-bag in one hand, her documents and handbag in the other, and his arms were like prison bars. Well, not quite, because they were big and warm and somehow protective rather than restrictive.
As if he knew she’d had a recent run-in with the press and was desperate to avoid another. But he didn’t appear to recognise her so she grabbed the lifeline he seemed to be offering with a vengeance, met his eyes and forced her lips into a smile. ‘And here I am … Honey Pie.’
His brows lifted a fraction at that, then, nodding once, he returned a co-conspiratorial grin, his hands sliding off her shoulders and down her back.
And before she could draw another breath, his mouth touched hers. Tender yet firm but not hard and controlling. Trust me and play along. His words played back to her in that wholly masculine rumble that still echoed in her breasts, making them swell and throb with a tantalising heat.
For an instant, a whole other ‘play along’ scenario scorched the backs of her eyeballs as his lips teased and toyed with hers. She was vaguely aware of the voices around them blurring into one meaningless hum. This guy could kiss. Somewhere an inner voice warned her that she didn’t know him … except instead of easing away as she should be doing, she kissed him back.
He pulled her closer, dived deeper and took complete possession. Of her mouth, her senses, her … everything. It was like falling and flying at the same time. She’d never experienced anything like it. Somewhere in the dim distance she was aware of an announcement over the PA system but the part of her brain that processed rational thought had already shut down.
She could feel his hands sliding lower, fingers playing over her spine and settling on her hips, beneath the hem of her jacket and against her skirt so that she could feel every pressure point his fingers made through the thin silk. His warmth soaked clear through her underwear to shimmer on her skin, coarse denim rasped against her skirt as his thighs came into contact with hers.
A moan rose up her throat. He was hard as rock. Everywhere. It made her feel soft and feminine and totally boneless and she found herself sagging against him.
He changed the angle of the kiss, bumping her glasses with his cheek or nose and tilting them sideways. She felt the pressure of his lips lessen and wanted to cling a moment longer—wanted more, deeper, hotter—but he lifted his head and straightened the glasses on her face and grinned. An intimate we’re-sharing-a-secret kind of grin. ‘Missed you too, babe.’
‘Uh-huh.’ She felt as if she were waking from a trance. She realised she’d stopped breathing and drew in some much-needed air. A whiff of some unfamiliar spicy fragrance teased her nostrils. The intimacy of the moment lessened, but her pulse was still stammering, colour and commotion and movement swirling all around her as she stared up at him.
His eyes … the deepest darkest brown, she noticed now. Mesmerising, compelling. The kind of eyes you could lose yourself in and never find your way back … She tightened her slippery grip on her belongings. ‘I—’
He touched a long tanned finger to her lips, glanced over her shoulder and gave her a look alerting her that the media pest was still watching, then said, ‘We’d better get moving—pandemonium’s about to break out.’ Curling a hand around her upper arm, he began to guide her towards the exit.
‘Hang on!’ She stopped. This was suddenly moving way too fast. ‘Where are you taking me? What is going on?’
‘Shh.’ His warm breath tickled her ear, making her toes curl inside her shoes. ‘Didn’t you hear the announcement?’ A flicker of barely there humour crossed his gaze—as if he knew she hadn’t. ‘All flights are grounded until tomorrow morning at the earliest.’ Tightening his grip, but not so much that it felt threatening or uncomfortable, he propelled her forward. ‘So we’re going to the airport hotel.’
Of course she hadn’t heard any announcement. She’d been otherwise occupied. Blind and deaf and mute to everything but him. His hands resting with familiar ease on her waist, his lips moving expertly and intimately over hers as if they were long-term lovers …
She didn’t even know his name.
She jerked to a halt as warmth flooded into her cheeks. ‘Wait. Just wait. I don’t—’
‘You’d rather stay here and take your chances?’ He glanced at her, one eyebrow raised, his dark eyes assessing.
No. Definitely not. Wise or foolish, she’d take her chances with Mr Expert Kisser.
He tugged on her hand, giving her no further time to consider her options. ‘Your stalker’s following us—don’t look back.’
A shiver ran down her spine as she struggled to keep up. Difficult when her knees still felt like clotted cream. ‘How do you know?’
‘I know how the guy’s mind works.’ They were approaching the terminal’s glass doors, being swept along with the tide of noise and people. ‘He’s watching to see if our impromptu display of affection continues. Waiting for us to slip up.’
‘But my luggage …’
‘Has been checked through. You’ll have to make do with what you’ve got.’
They walked out into a dull winter’s late afternoon. Passengers who hadn’t heard the news were still arriving, others were diving into taxis as fast as they pulled into the kerb and disgorged their load.
She accompanied him towards the sky bridge that led to the multi-storey car park and hotel. ‘I’m sure we convinced him,’ she murmured, yanking her wheel-bag up over the kerb and onto a strip of grass. Heavens, this guy had convinced her—introverted scene-avoider, Charlotte Dumont. And in more ways than one.
‘Convincing, you reckon?’ He stopped, looked down at her, lips curved into that devastatingly intimate-secret grin again. His eyes were twinkling. Or maybe it was just the sun momentarily peeking out from behind the clouds. ‘I think we should give it another try,’ he said. ‘To be absolutely certain.’ Before she knew what he was about to do, he slipped the glasses off her face. ‘Ah,’ he murmured.
She jerked her chin up, daring herself to meet his gaze. ‘You were expecting brilliant blue or moss green? Violet maybe? I appreciate your help,’ she hurried on before he could pay her some smoothly delivered yet empty compliment she didn’t want to hear. She bent to unzip the side pocket of her bag, slid her documents inside, then straightened. ‘Really. Thank you. But was all that …’ she waved a hand, trying to find the right words to express the almost orgasmic experience and failing ‘… necessary?’
Orgasmic? One kiss? Oh, she so needed to get a life. A new life. And wasn’t that why she was taking this trip? Time away to ponder her future and decide what she wanted to do? Which could, just maybe, include spicing up her non-existent sex life?
‘Absolutely it was necessary.’ His eyes remained on hers as he dumped his cabin bag at his feet. ‘Subtleties are lost on guys like him.’
‘Okay.’ She nodded. ‘Right. But I don’t think we need to repeat the performance.’
He glanced towards the terminal. ‘Think again, babe.’
‘Oh, no.’ She didn’t look, snatching at her glasses instead, but he shook his head, holding them out of her reach. He stood so close she could feel his heat all down the front of her body.
He caressed the side of her face with his thumb. ‘He can’t be sure you’re who he thinks you are—he’s too far away to see the colour of your eyes. And that’s his loss because they’re enchanting.’
Oh, please. Flynn had been a smooth-talking charmer too. ‘They’re grey.’ She resisted reaching for her glasses again because that was exactly what he was expecting her to do.
‘Is there a reason you hide them behind sunglasses?’ he asked, studying her closely. Curiously.
No way was she spilling her family history. ‘I woke up with a headache, if you really want to know.’
‘Sorry to hear that. How is it now?’
‘Better. Shall we get this over with, then?’
One eyebrow rose. ‘You liked it well enough a moment ago.’
And she had. She sure had.
He touched her face again. ‘You should make the moves this time. Persuade him you’re hopelessly besotted with me.’
A stiff breeze ruffled his hair. Black hair too long to call tidy, dark brows and olive skin that told her he was of Mediterranean descent. He had a square masculine jaw and prominent cheekbones. Lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes, as if he enjoyed life in the outdoors. His sensuous mouth curved easily and told her he also enjoyed more than a little indoors activity.
Hopelessly besotted? How could she be? She’d never laid eyes on him before. And yet she couldn’t have said it better herself. And that should worry her because she wasn’t going to be lured and seduced by another man’s suave talk and good looks ever again. A man who undoubtedly knew exactly what he was doing, and did it often and well. ‘I don’t even know your name …’
Amusement touched his lips. ‘It’s Nic. Yours?’
She shook her head, rolled her lips together, then said, ‘I should tell you he didn’t have the wrong woman and he’s probably an expert lip-reader.’
His gaze immediately dropped to her mouth and those dreamy brown eyes darkened. ‘All the more important to head him off, then, don’t you think? Kiss me.’
His husky demand stroked her skin and she rubbed her jacket and the goose-bumps that sprang out on her arms beneath her sleeves. ‘I …’ Don’t kiss men I don’t know. Except she already had.
‘Say my name first if it makes you more comfortable.’
As if he knew her concerns. ‘Nic.’ She liked the way it sounded on her tongue. She liked the fact that he was doing his best to put her at ease. That he’d just saved her from public humiliation. That he was possibly the most stunning-looking guy she’d ever laid lips on. ‘Nicholas …?’
‘Dominic.’
‘Dominic.’ Reaching out, not quite able to look him in the eye, she placed a tentative palm on his chest. His shirt felt warm and smooth against her fingertips. Hard muscle shifted beneath her hand—Her fingers jerked away instinctively.
But what had Flynn said when he’d ended their engagement? She wasn’t outgoing enough, not glamorous enough, not confident enough to be any aspiring politician’s wife. That after twenty-four years as the daughter of a socially distinguished couple, she should be used to being in the public eye.
Since then she’d made a decision to work on her shortcomings. Hence this trip. To relax, regroup and refocus on the new direction her life had taken. To work on improving her confidence. She so wanted to prove her ex wrong. Then she could move on. And hadn’t she already proved with that horrible reporter that she could be confident when it counted?
‘Hey,’ he murmured, catching her hand and putting it back against his shirt. ‘Just shut your eyes and go with it. If it helps, pretend I’m someone else.’
No way. If she was going to do this, she was going to enjoy it, and that meant giving him her full attention. Her new life’s direction could afford a little side-trip along the way. Then she’d book herself a room for what was left of today and this evening. She wouldn’t have to see him again—all flights out of Melbourne did not go through Fiji.
So she took a deep breath, then boldly moved her hand over his shirt, taking her time, enjoying the sensation as she let herself relax and acquainted herself with the rugged unfamiliar terrain. Her other hand joined in—there was … so much of him. This excursion could take hours.
Disgruntled passengers trailing baggage and bad language flowed around them, as if they were an island in a flood-swollen river. Heavy exhaust fumes and the odour of jet fuel from aircraft not going anywhere clogged the air but all she could smell was Nic’s spicy fragrance and warm masculine skin.
‘Nic.’ She met his direct gaze and said, ‘Is there some woman out there somewhere who’s going to want to scratch my eyes out?’
His lips curved boyishly. ‘I could ask the same of you,’ he said. ‘It’s a no from me.’
Charmed against her will—and wickedly turned on by that sexy mouth—she smiled back. ‘And it’s a no from me.’
‘So no more procrastinating.’
She moistened her dry still-tingly lips. ‘Is he still watching, do you think?’
That kiss-me-I’m-gorgeous smile continued playing around his mouth as he toyed with the button on her jacket, knuckles grazing her chest, eyes locked on hers. ‘Does it matter?’
Her nipples tightened beneath his barely there touch and the corner of her mouth curved up. ‘No.’ Not one iota. Right now it so didn’t matter. Give Stalker Man something to gawk at and enjoy herself at the same time, right? Meanwhile, the pest would get the message, find someone else to harass and she’d be free to reclaim her anonymity. All perfectly public and safe.
‘Nic.’ She rose up on tiptoe and planted her lips on his. Not tentatively this time. Winding her arms around his neck, fingers playing with the tips of his silky hair, surprised and amazed that she could let herself and her inhibitions fly away so easily.
Nic’s wasn’t the smooth, close-shaven jaw she was accustomed to and the unfamiliar masculine texture tickled her chin, sending reverberations all through her body.
Which hadn’t happened in a really long time.
Her mouth softened and parted without any help on her part. He swallowed her sigh and quickly took the lead, his tongue sliding against hers as he shifted closer, his hands sliding over her bottom, tucking her against him. Outrageously intimate and a long way from publicly acceptable.
She didn’t know and she didn’t care how long they stood there, locked together until she heard a man mutter, ‘Get a room,’ as he trudged by.
Nic broke away; his head came up. ‘Sounds like good advice.’ His voice sounded a little hoarse and husky. He slid her glasses back on her face, then picked up his bag, hefted it onto his shoulder. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Wait …’
He glanced back at her and Charlotte saw that his eyes had changed. Not just amused now, but … surprised? As if she wasn’t what he’d expected. And hungry, as if he’d like to devour her at the first opportunity. A delicious little shiver shimmied down her spine.
She looked about at the passengers already swarming over the sky bridge towards the hotel. A curious mix of disappointment and relief threaded through her system. ‘Looks like we might already be too late.’
Grinning, he caught her hand. ‘Then it’s lucky I booked a room earlier.’
CHAPTER TWO
LUCKY for him, she decided when they arrived in the congested lobby. Because now she thought about it—rationally—no way was she going with him to his room, no matter how expert a kisser he was. She’d filled her quota of daring, uncharacteristic behaviour for … oh, the next ten years or so.
‘Wait here,’ he told her as they entered. And as if the crowd parted for him, he made his way to the desk and spoke to one of the busy staff. But Charlotte shuffled to the end of the queue. There had to be something still available.
He returned moments later holding a couple of swipe cards. ‘Okay, we’re set.’
She shook her head. ‘Thanks for everything, but I want to book my own room.’
Quirking an eyebrow, he grinned. ‘You don’t trust me after all we’ve shared?’
And that was the thing, wasn’t it? She’d shared all that with a stranger. ‘So why did you kiss me?’ she murmured as the crowd milled around them.
He grinned. ‘You can ask me that when you called me honey pie?’
There was that. ‘You could’ve just stopped at “get lost”…’
His grin vanished. ‘I don’t like bullies.’ He shrugged but she saw the tension in his shoulders. ‘I just reacted.’
And she knew right then that he’d had firsthand experience with harassment. Something in his own past had triggered his Good Samaritan act. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.
‘If I—’
‘Please don’t apologise.’ I enjoyed every memorable mind-numbing second.
‘Why would I apologise?’ The grin was back. ‘I’m not the least bit sorry. Are you?’
Not at all. But it was over. ‘Thanks for your help but I still want to get my own room.’
‘With this crowd?’ He shook his head. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet.’ He guided her to the business side of the desk, a light hand at her back. ‘Kerry, this is …?’
‘Charlotte.’
‘Charlotte.’ He said her name like a caress, his eyes lingering on hers as he said, ‘Is there anything you can do for my friend here?’
Kerry, an attractive blonde with cornflower-blue eyes, barely looked up, her fingers busy on her keyboard. ‘Sorry, Charlotte, we’re fully booked. But Nic spoke with me and we’re happy for you to share at no extra cost.’
Their earlier performance played in front of Charlotte’s eyes like some hot romance movie. A public kiss was one thing, sharing a room with a guy she knew next to nothing about was something else, no matter how chivalrous he seemed. ‘It’s okay.’ She tightened the grip on her bag and prepared for a long evening ahead. ‘I’ll buy a book or magazine and find somewhere else to wait.’
Kerry flicked Nic a look, then motioned Charlotte aside. ‘My partner, Steve, and I have known Nic for years. He’s an okay guy. You’ve got the chance to spend the next twelve hours or so in comfort; I’d take it if I were you.’
Charlotte nodded. ‘Thanks, anyway.’
‘Your decision.’ Kerry inclined her head. ‘Excuse me …’ She was already moving away to deal with a woman who had one hysterical child attached to her leg.
‘Look, you take the room.’ Nic pushed a swipe card into her hand. ‘I’ll use the gym, catch up on some work at the business centre, then chill out in the terminal. I’ll let you know when they’re flying again.’
‘Oh, no. That’s very generous but I can’t accept.’ It just wouldn’t be right. ‘I’ll wait in the terminal.’
He frowned towards the lobby’s entrance. ‘What if our friend turns up again? The jerk’s persistent enough. And sneaky enough.’
Charlotte’s skin crawled and she couldn’t help glancing towards the crowded entrance. ‘Then I’ll just come clean with him and maybe he’ll leave me alone. About that … I should probably explain …’
‘But you don’t want to. And that’s okay, I don’t need to know your business. Here’s what we’ll do.’ He curled his hands around her upper arms. ‘We’ll check into the room together, then I’ll park my stuff and leave you to it. Okay?’
There was an openness and honesty in those dark eyes. So attractive, so alluring. And something she hadn’t seen since that last time her father had kissed her goodbye and called her his princess. Right before her family had climbed aboard the doomed helicopter …
Her father had been the one man she’d always been able to count on. To trust. Somehow she imagined Dad would approve of Nic. That he’d tell her she could trust him too.
She nodded once, but for the life of her she couldn’t make her voice work.
‘Right, then, that’s settled.’ He took charge of her bag and they walked towards the elevators.
They didn’t speak in the crowded lift. Nor as they walked down the dim, thickly silent corridor to their room. Nic swiped his card in the slot, motioned her through, then followed with their hand luggage.
The clouds had rolled away, leaving a hard blue sky. Blinding late afternoon sunshine flooded in, reflecting off the distant tarmac where scores of stranded aircraft waited for the ash cloud to lift. Her temples throbbed with the light’s intensity and the memory of a dull headache from earlier echoed at the back of her skull. She drew the heavy drapes closed. And with the imprint of their kiss still hot on her lips, she realised immediately how her action might be misconstrued.
The room was plunged into semi-darkness and the intimacy wasn’t lost on Nic. Shadows softened Charlotte’s features but he could see the puckered brow, the tense stance as her fingers twisted on the edge of the curtain. She wasn’t comfortable with the situation.
Nor was he, but for entirely different reasons. He’d been in a painful state of arousal since he’d discovered she tasted even more luscious than he’d imagined—and he’d imagined quite a lot. He indicated the closed drapes. ‘Headache still bothering you? Do you want to take a nap?’ Do you want me to join you?
‘No to both, but thank you.’ Something flashed across her eyes, as if she shared his let’s-get-naked thoughts. But maybe her tension wasn’t the anticipation he hoped for because she only said, ‘I might watch TV awhile. If that’s okay with you?’
‘Fine. Make yourself comfortable. I’m going for a run.’
Without looking at her, he yanked a pair of shorts, a T-shirt and running shoes out of his backpack and went to the bathroom to change. He needed to release some of his own tension and a dose of cold Melbourne air would cool his blood. The colder the better.
He splashed water on his face and checked himself out in the mirror. A smear of her lip gloss glistened on his lips. He smiled at his reflection as he rubbed it away. Now he knew. Ms Neat and Conservative on the outside wasn’t so conservative on the inside. Perhaps they could—
He shook the images away, ran his fingers through his hair and glared at himself. He’d offered her refuge. And that changed the rules. It was entirely her call if she wanted to take it further. Still … He shook his head and turned away from the mirror. Absolutely not.
He considered taking a cold shower but decided against it. Getting naked and knowing she was probably spread out on that bed watching TV wasn’t going to do him any favours.
When he returned from the bathroom, she was standing right where he’d left her. The big screen was still blank, the room was still silent. But the atmosphere had changed. Her fragrance and the scent of her skin smelled sharper, warmer. Damper. She must have turned up the thermostat on the air conditioning because it felt a damn sight hotter in here than it had moments ago.
Her eyes skimmed down his body and he felt as though a thousand fiery pinpricks had blistered every square centimetre of skin.
Then she snatched up the TV remote. Put it down. Drew in a sharp breath as if she’d come to a decision and was wondering whether to let him in on it.
‘Everything all right?’
‘Look, I don’t want to kick you out of your room. Please. Stay. I’m fine with it.’ Her gaze shifted to the double bed, then snapped back to him and he swore the air around them crackled. ‘In fact, I’d feel a lot better if you stayed.’
Yeah? He smiled—so would he. ‘Okay …’ That glint in her eyes … Hot. Wary too, but definitely hot. His whole body tightened, stiffened, and a bead of sweat trickled down his back. In a deliberately casual move, he laid his discarded clothes on the back of the office chair at the desk. ‘So what’s your real name? Or aren’t we going to get into all that?’
‘I told you, it’s Charlotte.’ She slid her palms down her skirt as if they were sticky. ‘But no surnames, no talking about ourselves and swapping life histories. We’ll be gone tomorrow.’
His thoughts precisely. So … she wanted to play … Nothing personal, nothing complicated. One night. This had to be his lucky day. The surprise of it, and of her, was like a mid-winter’s heatwave. ‘Fine by me.’
‘I’m going to take a shower now,’ she said, suddenly and randomly, as if plucking the words from the increasingly sultry atmosphere. ‘Alone.’ She moved to her bag, unzipped it, then tossed him an I-mean-it look over her shoulder. ‘I’ll see you shortly.’
‘Right.’ So she wanted time to get ready; he didn’t mind waiting. ‘I’m off for that run, then. When I get back …’ at the door, he looked her over the way she’d looked at him—though he might have lingered a tad longer ‘… we’ll see how we get along.’
He took the stairs down to the lobby two at a time. He saw Kerry amidst the carnage, sticking a sign on the door advising alternative accommodation, and stopped.
‘Is your friend okay?’ she said, giving him a quick glance as she smoothed the sign in place.
‘She is.’
She shook her head on her way back to the desk. ‘And by that glazed look, I’m guessing the drinks invite’s off the board now. How do you do it, Nic? You’re like honey to a bee.’
‘My magnetic personality, babe. And it was a mutual decision to share the room, under the circumstances.’
‘Of course it was,’ she said, amused. ‘You’re obviously her hero. I’d hate you on behalf of all women if I didn’t know you better.’ She waved him off. ‘Now go away. I’m too busy and too married to be sidetracked by a charmer like you.’
He grinned—charm had nothing to do with it. Fate had played right into his hands. Man, he had to love volcanoes. Even lousy reporters.
‘And if you’re not careful, Nic,’ she was going on as she resumed her seat in front of her computer, ‘one of these days you’re going to find yourself charmed right back and life as you know it now will be a distant memory.’
He gave her a wave as he moved off. ‘Not gonna happen.’
Kerry didn’t look up from her screen. ‘Uh-huh.’
He took the elevator, jogged across the sky bridge and onto grass, dodging passengers, following the arrivals road and outdoor car-parking, his mind reliving their up-close and the way Charlotte had responded. As if she couldn’t get enough. He grinned to himself as he waited at the kerb for an airport bus, then crossed a median strip and headed for a line of bushes. Who’d have thought? Charlotte whoever-she-was was one hot babe.
And she was waiting in his room. Their room.
So what the hell was he waiting for? Why was he out running in this cold blustery wind when he could be getting better acquainted on that big wide bed with a woman who, if he was reading her right, wanted the same thing?
Because he’d already decided to run before she’d given him the hot look. Then chosen to take a damn shower—alone. She’d made it abundantly clear. She’d needed time. Fair enough. And now he thought about it, he wanted to give her that time to mull it over and be sure. Because he was sure he didn’t want her backing out once they got started. In fact, he was so ready to get started, his body so tightly wound and hot, it was a wonder he could move at all.
In his experience conservative types in silk suits and pearls weren’t compatible with one-night stands. But dress sense aside, she’d not played the distressed damsel card. The guy had been seriously hassling her but she’d held her own—like the strong heroines he portrayed in his computer games. He liked that about her. She wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself even though he’d seen the flicker of panic in her eyes. So if she changed her mind, he reckoned she’d let him know.
Testosterone surged through him, tightening his muscles, pumping through his blood, and all he could think about was getting her naked and exploring the abundantly curved body he’d held against him. With his eyes, with his hands. With his mouth. Hell—he hoped she wasn’t the type to change her mind.
He checked his watch. Time enough to have finished that shower. And if not … well, he’d just have to finish it with her. He turned back towards the hotel, making a detour via the terminal’s food court on the way.
Since she’d already told the guy, and she’d needed the time to breathe, Charlotte took the shower. With no change of clothes available, and not wanting to crease her suit any more than it already was, she put the terry bathrobe provided by the hotel on over her underwear.
She swiped the mirror and stared at her reflection. Her mouth looked plumper, fuller. Her eyes looked bigger. More slumberous. Bedroom eyes. Oh, God. She rubbed a hand over her heart, which still hadn’t settled into its usual rhythm. She’d never had a one-night stand before. Never been with another man before; Flynn had been a part of her life since her mid-teens.
Part of her life? Huh. She picked up her brush, dragged it through her hair with hard, swift strokes. Their relationship had been over less than two weeks when she’d seen him and the glamorous daughter of a wealthy businessman in the newspaper’s social pages.
So she was getting on with her new life, starting today. She’d never met a guy’s gaze—so full on and meaningful—the way she had Nic’s just now. And he was coming back to see how they got along.
And with that look in his eyes it could mean only one thing: sex. Hot and fast and uncomplicated. Spontaneous. Frivolous. Happy. And wasn’t that what she wanted too? Just for tonight. Then she’d never have to see him again.
Oh. My. Was that really Charlotte Dumont thinking those thoughts?
Swinging away from her unsettling image, she gathered her things and tentatively opened the door. Hearing no movement—so Nic hadn’t returned yet—she walked into the bedroom.
Nic’s backpack sat next to hers on the luggage rack; his spicy scent lingered on his discarded clothes on the back of the chair. He wasn’t here yet he was all around her. She noticed some glossy brochures he’d left on the desk. She didn’t want to get personally involved with him, wasn’t ready for another relationship, but they were … just travel pamphlets. Nothing personal, nothing private. She couldn’t resist picking them up.
The Hawaiian Islands. Brochures on deep-sea fishing, golf, whale-watching expeditions. The best surfing spots. He’d marked off some, made notes she couldn’t decipher and crossed out others. He was on his way to Hawaii for what looked like a full-on guy vacation. No wonder he looked so fit. Bronzed. Well … nourished. He obviously knew how to chill out and have fun.
The word conjured up all sorts of scenarios; not the outdoor kind, but the intimate indoor kind involving him and her and that big bed with its soft white pillows. Her whole body burned. It wanted to burn alongside his. It wanted to know what it was like to be made love to by a man with Nic’s expertise because one thing she was sure of was his ability to pleasure a woman. And then he’d be off to Hawaii and she’d be totally satisfied.
But it had to be her way. Her rules. No talking about themselves and their lives beyond what happened in this room. No swapping phone numbers and email addresses and promises to catch up. She didn’t want him catching up. She wanted one night to prove to herself that she wasn’t the girl Flynn thought she was.
Anticipation raced through her body. To calm herself, she made a cup of the complimentary coffee provided and slid the curtains back as the afternoon faded and the sky took on the early evening hues of orange and lavender. She sat on the only armchair and flicked through a women’s magazine she’d bought earlier but she soon tossed it onto the nearby desk, too frazzled to concentrate on some superstar’s private life exposed to the world.
And if it hadn’t been for Nic, her private break-up with the popular candidate for the upcoming state elections might have been public fodder too.
She really, really owed Nic. So she could have just bought him a bottle of wine or a meal to show her appreciation, couldn’t she? They were here until tomorrow morning at the earliest so it wasn’t too late to suggest catching a cab into the city and finding some cosy candlelit café …
Except then they’d come back to this room and that bed with a few glasses of happy in their systems and it would still be here—the amazing attraction.
She tucked her bare feet up beneath her, pulled the pins out of her hair and teased her fingers through it, enjoying the new feeling of being feminine and free. Why eat out when you could feast on something much more pleasurable right here? Like hot masculine skin and lips and tongues and … Her mouth dried, her skin frizzled. She couldn’t help it; she giggled like a schoolgirl at the wicked thoughts running through her mind.
She was still giggling when he walked in.
CHAPTER THREE
NIC heard the feminine laughter as he pushed open the door. Husky with a hint of wicked. He grinned. Until he caught sight of her sitting on the chair, her face in profile as she stared out of the window, her dark hair aflame in the sun’s reddening light and his amusement shifted beyond a simple Wow to something approaching awe. Unbound and auburn, the glossy mass rejoiced around her shoulders like a celebration of freedom.
She’d turned the TV on to a radio channel. Something soothing and blue and jazzy and she obviously hadn’t heard him come in, so he absorbed the moment with all his senses. The fragrance of her recent shower, the delight in her laugh, her sheer and glorious abandonment.
And he realised he was witnessing something he doubted many people saw when they looked at Charlotte. The woman’s inner beauty. And an innate sexuality that he found irresistible. He had a feeling she didn’t show that side of herself often, much less share it.
He hoped she’d share it with him.
She’d swapped that seriously awful suit for the hotel’s robe. Was she naked underneath? His groin tightened. She still wore the pearls; their iridescence reflected the sun’s vermilion rays. He imagined lifting them, warm from her body, and sliding his fingers beneath to explore her creamy throat.
He couldn’t be certain she’d changed into the robe as an invitation or prelude to sex. It made sense that she’d wear it since their luggage was checked in at the airport. But that was about the only thing that made sense right now because for the life of him he couldn’t remember ever being this captivated by a woman before.
Again the sense that this was different—she was different—slid through him like a ripple on a millpond. He shook off the shivery silvery sensation and discreetly cleared his throat to announce his presence. ‘Anyone for soggy gourmet pizza?’
She swung to face him and a thousand different emotions flitted over her expression before she settled for happy-to-see-him. ‘Yes, please.’ She uncurled herself and stretched out a pair of long shapely legs in front of her. ‘Where did you find pizza?’
‘The airport’s café. The last one. Or the last half of one. I had to fight off the hungry hordes.’ After setting the box on the desk, he switched on the lamp, then reached for the bottle of wine on the shelf above the bar fridge.
She rose, smiling and shrugging the lapels of the robe closer. ‘My hero.’
His hand jerked a bit at that as he upended two glasses. ‘You want wine?’
‘Thanks.’ She lifted the lid on the cardboard container. ‘Yum, I love artichokes.’ She peered closer. ‘It is artichoke, isn’t it?’
He grinned. ‘I think so.’
She reached for her handbag on the coffee table, pulled out a linen napkin embroidered with her name, then proceeded to polish up the motel’s cutlery.
Swallowing his surprise, he opened the bottle, then set a couple of paper plates next to the pizza box. ‘You like Italian?’
‘I do, but seafood’s my favourite.’ She scooped up the slices with a knife, set them on the plates. ‘There’s a fabulous seafood place at Glenelg, on the Marina Pier. Their King George whiting is to die for.’
‘I know the one.’ He didn’t tell her his apartment overlooked said pier as he splashed a generous amount of the ruby liquid into the glasses. ‘And I agree with your review. It’s one of my favourite food haunts when I’m in Adelaide.’
‘Mine too.’ A little hitch in her breath as she stared up at him. ‘Seems we have something in common.’
‘I’m hoping that’s not all we have in common.’ He couldn’t resist stroking his knuckles lightly down the side of her face. Testing her, tormenting himself. Her skin was smooth as silk and smelled like flowers.
Her eyes turned glassy, like a still ocean on an overcast summer’s day, and she pressed her lips together, then said, ‘We weren’t going to talk about ourselves.’
‘Who said anything about talking?’
Their gazes clashed, but he didn’t act on the hot fist of anticipation gripping the lower half of his body and the impulse to show her the alternative option. Plenty of time. A girl like Charlotte definitely needed slow. And he’d already made up his mind to give her a chance to decide whether she still wanted to act on that hot look he’d glimpsed earlier.
So he only lifted the glasses, offered her one and said, ‘Let’s eat before this sloppy offering gets any colder. Cheers.’
‘Thanks. And cheers.’ Taking her plate, Charlotte returned to the armchair while Nic sat at the desk. She took a sip, then set her glass on the coffee table in front of her. Her cheek was still tingly and warm from his touch. Other parts were tingling too, with a wickedly wanton need like she’d never experienced.
But he was giving her space and she appreciated that. Even if she was having a full-on fantasy around him and what they could get up to on that office chair …
‘Hawaii’s nice this time of year,’ she said to take her mind off her fantasies, determined to keep the conversation on neutral topics.
He glanced at his pamphlets then at her, his gaze thoughtful. Unreadable.
‘I know we agreed on nothing personal but they were just there …’
He smiled, all trace of whatever she’d seen in his eyes gone in one mischievous twinkle. ‘All good, Charlotte, it’s not personal. And yeah, it’s the best time of year. Get away from the cold.’ He bit off half his slice in one go and chewed, then washed it down with a mouthful of wine.
She sliced a corner off her own piece, watching the man’s enthusiasm over the very ordinary food. He had a strong tanned neck and prominent Adam’s apple, which moved as he swallowed. Oil from the pizza glistened on his upper lip … She wanted to jump up, lean down and lick it off. She really needed to slow her thoughts down to warp speed.
‘You’ve been there before?’ she asked, keeping to the script.
‘I try to make it every couple of years. Hanalei Bay on Kauai. The surf’s great there. How about you—have you ever been?’
‘Once. To Maui. It was a family holiday to celebr …’ She trailed off as the memory of her parents’ tenth wedding anniversary surfaced. The little twinge in her heart had her rubbing her hand once over the area and caressing the pearls at her throat. ‘But that’s against the rules.’
‘Sure—if you say so.’ His eyes probed hers and his voice gentled. ‘You okay?’
‘Fine.’ Her smile relaxed as she finished the last bite, patted her mouth then popped the fancy napkin back in her bag. ‘You know, you’re a very nice man.’
‘Nice?’ His brows rose. ‘That’s a bit of a worry.’
‘I mean honest. Considerate …’ Totally gorgeous.
He chuckled and popped the remainder of his pizza into his mouth. ‘You sure you’re not a rebellious princess on the run from some minor European nation somewhere?’
‘What? Oh, the napkin?’ She grinned back. ‘I’d carry my own cutlery if the airlines allowed it. I have personalised soap too. Somewhere …’ She searched the bottom of her bag unsuccessfully, then shrugged. ‘Call me eccentric.’ Or a product of a privileged and traditional upbringing. If her folks could see her now and knew what she was thinking …
She bet Nic had a string of women in his life. She wondered how old he was. Around thirty? She reminded herself she didn’t want to know because then she’d want to know more. Like where he lived and what his work was and … how he liked to make love.
‘“Sex Fact or Fiction”.’
She almost spluttered into her wine. ‘Pardon?’
‘The quiz.’ He was looking at the cover of the magazine she’d left on the desk. ‘You haven’t read it yet?’
‘I must’ve missed it. Obviously you didn’t.’
‘I’m a guy. I saw the word sex,’ he said, amusement in his voice as he flicked through the pages. ‘Okay, test your knowledge. Sales of condoms decrease when a recession hits—fact or fiction?’
She took a moment to compose herself and consider. ‘Fiction. Definitely. Too expensive to go out and too expensive to have kids.’
He nodded. ‘Correct. How about this? Humans are the only species to have sex for pleasure.’
The way he said ‘pleasure’, all virile and velvet and promising, made her skin rupture with heat. She took another sip of wine. ‘Yes.’
‘Not so.’ He studied her with inscrutable eyes. ‘Apparently we’re not the only creatures on the planet wanting to get it on.’
‘Oh?’ But was she the only one in this room right now wanting to get it on? He was as relaxed as if he was discussing the weather, one arm slung over the back of the chair, whereas she was as tense as strung piano wire.
‘How about this, then? Men’s sexual organs are designed for more pleasure than women’s.’
‘Um …’ She trailed off at the hot promise of that pleasure. Her own feminine places dampened and she had to resist squirming on the chair. ‘Fiction.’
‘Yep. Women have it all over men in this department. According to the quiz, the clitoris is the only known organ that exists for the sole purpose of pleasure.’
Oh. Her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. Had she ever had such a bizarrely intimate conversation with a guy before? ‘Um … sexual organs aside …’ she bit down on her bottom lip ‘… surely it would depend on who’s giving the pleasure?’
His head came up and he looked at her through lazy-lidded eyes. ‘You’re a woman—you tell me.’
‘For me …’ She struggled for composure and sophistication. ‘It definitely depends on the partner.’
‘Wouldn’t this partner’s expertise have something to do with it? Besides liking the guy.’
‘Ah …’
‘I mean, you could be totally hot for him but if he doesn’t know how to do it for you … Ever had a guy like that? You really like him, the connection’s there, the spark, the desire, but then you’re left hanging. So to speak.’
‘Uh … hmm.’ Flynn. The earth hadn’t exactly moved with him. Ever. She’d told herself that was okay because she’d loved him, and love and affection and common goals were more important than physical fulfilment.
Maybe she’d been wrong, because there’d been a shifting of tectonic plates happening beneath her feet since she’d kissed Nic. She knew instinctively that he wouldn’t be the type to leave any woman unsatisfied.
‘What’s this non-committal “hmm”?’
‘It’s a yes, okay?’ she snapped out, hating to admit it. Hating that he knew already. ‘I’ve had guys like that.’
A slow and sexy, won’t-happen-if-you’re-with-me look drifted across his expression.
If he ever decided to make a move.
And why was this all about her? His focus was entirely too … focused. She deflected with, ‘But a guy can enjoy sex with anyone because it’s all about basic drive or need, right?’
His gaze drifted over her like slow-moving lava. ‘Personally speaking, I like to connect with the woman I’m with. Enjoyment has to be about more than satisfying a basic urge. I feel a connection with you, Charlotte. I’m pretty sure you feel that connection too. I’d like to see where it takes us.’
To heaven and beyond?
His eyes had darkened as he spoke and she felt a shifting and thickening of anticipation in the air. But he didn’t move. Not so much as the flicker of an eyelash.
Ah. ‘Are you waiting for me to give you the green light?’
‘Your call.’ He remained ostensibly at ease, legs sprawled in front of him, arm still relaxed on the back of the chair. Only a muscle tic in his jaw betrayed his tension. ‘You need to be sure this is what you want. But for pity’s sake, make it soon.’ His voice thickened and he looked down at his crotch. ‘Because you’re damn near killing me.’
She’d deliberately kept her eyes above his waist, but now she followed his gaze to the impressive bulge in his shorts. And swallowed. Her whole body went weak, except for her galloping pulse. She also noticed his thighs were as tanned as his neck, sprinkled with dark hair and heavy with muscle as if he worked out. A lot.
She wanted to touch. She wanted to feel those thighs rub against hers. She wanted that magnificent masculine part of him inside her.
But she didn’t want entanglements. No morning after, no getting to know each other beyond the physical. ‘Only tonight.’
‘Fine. Should I take a shower first?’
‘No.’ She smiled. ‘Told you you’re considerate.’ She liked the way he smelled: warm and slightly sweaty but not unpleasant. A primal masculine smell that beckoned and aroused her feminine instincts. ‘I want it—I want you—as you are. I want to feel your sweat on my skin. Now.’
He smiled back. ‘First move’s all yours.’
‘Mine?’ Her trembling fingers tightened a little on the soft terry lapels. She knew how to initiate sex … but with a man like Nic? Except she didn’t know Nic, not really. So what did she mean: ‘a man like Nic’? What did Nic-who-she-didn’t-know want or expect?
‘You could start by taking off that robe,’ he suggested after a few seconds of silence ticked by. ‘Or you could come over here and let me do the honours.’ Still he didn’t move. ‘I’ll leave that decision to you.’
Eyes fastened on him, she pushed up off the chair. The few steps she took seemed like miles while her blood drained to her legs. She was glad of the background music because it covered the sound of her heart thumping its way out of her chest. Not with fear but with the illicit, dizzying prospect of having sex with a man who was, by anyone’s standards, a stranger.
She was the one in control—because Nic had given it to her. She was the one with the choice. And she wanted this night with this man.
Coming to a stop in front of him, she loosened the looped tie just enough so that the robe’s front edges parted slightly. As she was standing, his head was tilted back a little, eyes focused on hers, and it was her first chance to look down at him. She reached out and smoothed a strand of his hair off his brow. ‘Decisions, decisions …’
He slid his fingers behind the loop in her belt and drew her closer, between hot, hard thighs, and she had to drop her hands onto the chair’s metal arms either side of him to keep her balance and stop herself from collapsing onto him.
His breath, his scent and his heat mingled with hers as they continued to stare at each other. ‘You like being on top, then.’
She started to laugh but her throat was dry and it came out husky and low and slightly desperate. ‘I like being any way.’
Oh, my God. Had she really said that? And was that smoky, seductive voice hers?
‘So …’ he untied her belt and slipped his hands inside to lightly circle her waist, surprise in his eyes when he found bare flesh ‘… swinging naked from the chandelier’s a possibility?’
Her breath hitched at the feather-light brush of skin on skin and she arched forward, her breasts aching to be teased and stroked. ‘No chandelier here …’ Only recessed lighting and a desk lamp …
‘Pity.’
‘But whatever we get up to, do you have protection?’ Her mind was hazy, but not that hazy.
‘We’ll get to that. Eventually. Or are you in a rush?’
‘I thought you were. Didn’t you just say—?’
‘I’ll survive a little longer.’
She wondered if she would. Spot-fires were breaking out all over her body; it was a miracle she wasn’t glowing. Or perhaps she was but right now she was too distracted watching Nic. His expression: part pain, part pleasure and all for her. ‘Nic …’
‘Charlotte.’ he teased back and his tone left her in no doubt he was as turned on as she. But he withdrew his hands from her waist, put them behind his head. ‘What are you hiding under all that towelling?’
She pushed up off the chair’s support and straightened, then, with a boldness she’d never felt, she shrugged off the robe. Its coarse texture tickled her bare skin on the way down.
Nic watched, his breath snagging on a growl of approval. Who’d have thought? Conservative Charlotte liked sexy underwear. Skimpy shimmery panties and bra, spattered with starbursts of silver rhinestones and so sheer she might as well have been naked. But so much more erotic with her dark, peaked nipples pushed up against the fabric, her breasts spilling over the top like an offering of abundance. The strand of pearls still luminescent at her neck.
‘Aren’t you full of surprises,’ he murmured in absolute appreciation. ‘Gorgeous.’
But not too voluptuous. Not too slim either; just long, strong, clean lines and curves. Perfect. Exquisite. It was a crime against mankind to hide such beauty.
But she wasn’t hiding it from him.
She resumed her earlier position, hands on the armrests, leaning over him. Her breasts were at eye-level and with any other woman that was where he’d be—mouth busy right there on that creamy skin, teasing the fabric aside with his teeth, tongue exploring.
But, as delectable as they were, it was her eyes that captured him most. Wide and aware with smoke and secrets shifting like shadows. Her fragrance, the cool, light signature perfume, drifted over him like evening mist. And in his mind’s eye he saw that calm lake at sunset. If he believed in enchantment, he imagined it would be like this.
Behind his head, his fists tightened. He put them on his thighs to stop himself from reaching up and pulling her mouth down to his and plundering. He sensed her willingness but this wasn’t the moment for fast. Rather a moment for reflection.
She hadn’t admitted it, but Nic knew this wasn’t something Charlotte did casually and often. He didn’t linger on the reasons why she’d made an exception for him. ‘You’re not used to this, are you?’ he murmured, and heard her quick exhalation, felt the tension thrum through her body.
‘What do you mean? Sex?’
‘One-night sex.’
‘Is it that obvious?’
‘No, no.’ He kept his voice low and slow and soothing. ‘I mean that in a good way. Keep doing what you’re doing—you’re fantastic.’
He shook away the unsettling thoughts and concentrated on what he knew well. How to enjoy no-strings, uncomplicated sex. And the easy pleasure of having a woman initiate it.
Smiling, she lowered her lips to his, a slow sultry kiss that soothed and smoothed and seduced. Her hair was a curtain of silk around them and the bluesy pulse of the music beat a lazy syrupy rhythm. He thought of languid afternoons by a pool and hot skin and cold, creamy sunscreen.
He lifted his arms then, fingers spread to mould around her slender shoulders and draw her closer. Her fingers stroked through his hair, then cupped the back of his head. Still watching his eyes. There was a glide of silk as she parted her long, long legs and slid them over his thighs to twine herself around him. She hooked her feet behind the back of the chair, the sultry heat of her feminine core snug against his burning erection.
Still holding his head, she leaned forward and kissed him again, her sparkly bra snagging his T-shirt as she settled closer. A groan erupted from deep in his gut. Her smile was smug as she found the worn jersey’s hem and tugged upwards. Suddenly his T-shirt was gone, flung somewhere over his shoulder.
Her fingers danced over his chest, twirled around his nipples, then slowed to a gliding waltz and headed south, dead centre. To the waistband of his shorts. Hands diving beneath, she rocked once against him, her fingers tightening on their captured prize. ‘Nic …’
‘Okay, now you’re playing dirty.’ He reached behind her, snapped the catch on her bra and peeled it away. Creamy flesh, dark, ripe peaks. Greed hazed his vision but she didn’t give him time to feast, surging forward to rub the hard little nubs against his chest as she watched him.
‘I like playing dirty, don’t you?’ Her laugh was low and sexy as she massaged and squeezed. ‘Fast and dirty even better.’
He tried to laugh too, but it snagged in his throat. His control was fraying, his whole body one throbbing ache. ‘You’re a wicked woman.’
‘Too wicked for you?’
‘Not possible.’ He cupped her damp heat and watched her eyes smoulder, her playful smile fade to serious. Her hands stopped being busy and he grinned. ‘Pay-back time.’ He slid a finger along the edge of her panties and felt her shudder. He slipped beneath to stroke her slick flesh and heard her moan. Arousal heightened, breathing quickened.
Somehow he managed to reach over his shoulder and drag his trousers off the chair, fumbling for his wallet and a condom in the rumpled folds while he thanked the stars his clothes were within reach.
Impatience, desperation and demands and needs. He freed himself, rolled on protection. A quick tug and her panties shredded beneath his fingers. No laughter now, no teasing wordplay. Just pure passion and dark desire and every fantasy he’d ever had. He plunged deep, thrusting up into silky heat and willing delight.
He held her silvery gaze long enough to see that her response matched his own. He gripped her hips, her hands fisted in his hair. They found their rhythm. The world evaporated leaving only speed and greed and heat.
The chair rocked beneath them. He thought he heard the tinkle of a glass as it toppled and rolled but maybe it was the sound of his sanity shattering.
She came on a stunned gasp, her inner muscles clamping around him. He gave himself up to glory and followed.
CHAPTER FOUR
SHE hadn’t been able to get enough of him, Nic thought hours later as night moved inexorably towards dawn. Nor he her. And why not? Making the most of the time limit she’d imposed. He turned his head to watch her sleep. Hair in disarray around her face, over the pillow. The gentle sound of her breathing as her breasts rose and fell. Her cool blue fragrance was going to tease his nostrils and his memory for quite some time.
He felt entirely too relaxed to worry about the curious little niggle that it had never been quite like this with anyone before. That connection he’d so casually mentioned to entice her? It had been … well … more than he’d expected.
He shifted onto an elbow for a better look at her bathed in the gold of dawn. His fingers itched to stroke the side of her face, her lips, her hair. He wanted her again. Wanted to feel her tight, hot wetness clench around him as she cam … Wanted to look into those haunting eyes she had and—He frowned. Maybe he wasn’t as relaxed as he’d thought. But it would pass, he assured himself. Of course it would. And she’d made it clear enough: one night. He’d been happy with the arrangement. More than happy.
Okay, he decided on a slow breath of relief, sanity still intact after all. They’d shared a fantastic few hours but it was time to make a move towards getting out of here.
Careful not to disturb her, he rose and went to the bathroom, checked his mobile for updates to flight schedules, then showered and left her sleeping while he went in search of breakfast.
Charlotte woke to the hum of air conditioning and the sound of water running in the bathroom. She didn’t move for a long moment, reliving the night and all she and Nic had done together. She’d lost count of how many times he’d made her come.
But his side of the bed was empty now, the sheets barely warm to the touch. She felt a vague disappointment that he’d not woken her earlier, then stretched. Aah … She’d expended more energy than she’d realised, she thought as her eyes slid open on a clear dawn sky, steadily lightening with gold and aqua. She should include sex in her exercise regime.
‘Rise and shine.’ Nic appeared freshly shaved and dressed. ‘The ash cloud’s shifted. Flights resume in an hour or so. We need to get moving.’
‘What time is it?’ she murmured, without moving. She was way too naked beneath the sheet, and her underwear—she had no idea where it was.
‘Six-thirty.’
She groaned into the pillow.
He had a way too cheery wide-awake voice. Obviously he was raring to get to Hawaii and begin his surfing vacation, that basic sexual drive they’d talked about last night satisfied for now.
And he’d satisfied her too but it was finished.
In one way she mourned the fact, in another, she was so, so relieved. Because last night Charlotte Dumont’s body had been invaded by a nymphomaniac. In fact, now she was almost too embarrassed to look him in the eye, and a warm blush suffused her entire body.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/anne-oliver/the-price-of-fame/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.