The Price of Fame (6 page)

‘Because if
I
found
you
,’ he continued, ‘you’d not be giving in first.’ He tightened his hold, eyes dancing. ‘And that’s okay. I don’t mind letting you win. This time.’

Before she could object to that—did she even care?—his mouth swooped on hers. Smoothly, expertly, confident that she couldn’t resist.

Instant addiction. She felt herself being swept up in the tastes and sensations as a stiff breeze swept across her sweat-damp skin and rustled the palm fronds. Unable to stop herself, she slid her hands upwards over sun-warmed skin exploring all the different textures while his mouth worked magic on hers.

But if he was just proving a point and he’d meant it to be light and easy, the emotions rushing through her were anything but. Distant alarm bells rang a warning. She wasn’t ready for these feelings and this thing with Nic would only end badly for her. She’d stop … any moment now …

The muscles in her legs turned lax, her arms coiled around his neck and she hung on, her toes curling inside her sandals.

Nic lifted his lips a fraction. ‘I hate to interrupt this, but your work …’

‘Work?’ she murmured, craning her neck to recapture his lips.

He licked her bottom lip with a lazy stroke of his tongue. ‘Whatever you were doing. When I interrupted you. Remember that private thing you didn’t want me to see?’

She pulled back and swivelled her head to see her precious designs scattering like giant butterflies across the garden. ‘Oh, no!’ Yanking out of his arms, she stumbled across the lawn and into bushes, grabbing what she could. ‘I’ve got them,’ she yelled in case he followed. ‘Do
not
look …’

But when she turned around with the crumpled pages in her hands, he was regarding her with telling interest. He didn’t say a word but a smile played around his lips.

‘I’m leaving now,’ she told him, her face burning. Stuffing her papers and everything she could lay her hands on into her holdall, she grabbed her hat and backed towards the gate. ‘Stay away from me. I mean it,’ she said through clenched teeth when he only kept smiling that know-all smile. ‘You’re bad for me.’

She turned and fled, knowing he was watching. Bad for her peace of mind. Bad for her will power. Bad distraction.

Bad, bad, bad.

Still grinning, Nic watched her go. He waited until she’d disappeared past the gate, then retrieved a loose sheet that
had snagged under the table. He couldn’t
not
look, now, could he? Smoothing out the page, he stared at the erotic image.

Flowers, hmm? His grin broadened. But he looked closer. This was a skilled artist’s work. She’d added notes on the construction, fabric details, colour combinations.

And his initial response to finding her in his garden had been to shoot first, ask questions later. Good God, he’d all but accused her of espionage. He hoped his quick manoeuvre to kiss her instead had distracted her thoughts elsewhere.

It sure as hell had distracted
him
.

He folded the paper in half. The perfect excuse to see her again. Not that he needed one. He closed and secured the gates, his thoughts filled with his unexpected visitor. Naturally she’d want her design back. It was only right that he returned it. Tonight was soon enough.

He went straight to his computer, sat down and studied the screens alive with characters going about their quests in their fantasy world. Tapping the mouse, he got back to work. He had a full day’s adventures to finish before he could turn his thoughts to other pursuits.

Closing her door safely behind her, Charlotte shut her eyes. Images danced behind her eyelids. Images of losing control.
Hoping desperately that I’d come out and find you
, he’d said. Huh. Like he’d know. Except he did. And she couldn’t fool herself—desperate was exactly how she felt, which was why she’d told him to stay away. The only sensible thing she’d said to him. And the bit about him being bad for her.

Because she knew his type—he could charm the knickers off a nun with a single tilt of those lips—and that wasn’t the type of man she wanted to get involved with. Nic was
a great—perfect—one-night kind of guy, but that kind wasn’t the sort of man she wanted to share other things with. Like confidences and dreams and hopes and interests. Like building a life and a home together. Like sharing his family to help compensate for the loss of hers.

Nic was so not that man.

Crossing the room to gaze over the rooftops, she picked out his palatial two-storey home amongst the trees. ‘Oh, Dad, what would you say about me?’ After her behaviour, she was hardly his princess any more. Her fingers touched the pearls at her neck. Mum would be appalled.

Nic
Russo …
Turning away from the view, she opened her notebook PC and switched it on. Thirty seconds later she was looking up the name and checking the social-networking sites. But the Nic Russos she found on the Internet didn’t match anyone who created computer games and obviously made millions doing so. Not even a Dominic Russo turned up anything.

Her fingers clenched over the keyboard. As soon as she’d calmed down, when her mind was less cluttered and she’d thought things through, she’d find Nic Russo or whoever the heck he was and demand more answers.

If he didn’t find her first.

A
T FIVE-THIRTY
Nic showered and went downstairs, Charlotte’s paper in his shirt pocket. Tenika had ironed him a Fijian shirt—crimson with a white hibiscus print—and laid it on his bed along with a fresh white hibiscus. He knew she expected to see him wearing both.

She was in the kitchen washing the vegetables he’d seen her pick earlier from his window. These days her wiry close-cropped hair was tinged with silver. The patterned hot-pink blouse over her black
sulu
complemented her dusky complexion; her hands were busy pulling leaves off stems.

He reached for a banana. ‘How’s your day been?’

She turned from the sink and smiled, teeth white against her skin. ‘
Bula
, Nic, you want
kakana
already? Eat vegetables today from the garden with fresh fish.’

‘
Vinaka
, but don’t cook anything for me this evening.’

‘Ah, you have a pretty
marama
waiting for you.’ She looked him up and down and nodded approvingly. ‘
Totoka
. Very handsome. She is lucky. A guest at the resort, Malakai told me.’ Her eyes danced with matchmaking delight.

Nic had to smile. The pair of them never gave up no matter how often he told them he was more than happy with his bachelor status. ‘Malakai’s jumping to conclusions.’

She shook her head, put the leaves in a colander and turned on the tap. ‘He doesn’t jump—he is too old. He said you and the pretty
marama
were talking in the car yesterday. Very close.’

‘Charlotte was on the same flight. I have something I need to return to her.’

Tenika made a
pfft
sound and sloshed water about in the sink. ‘You like her—Charlotte. You want Malakai to bring the car around?’

‘We’re not leaving the resort. We’re just going to watch the
Meke
then maybe have a meal.’

‘You bring her here tomorrow so I can meet her and see for myself if she is good enough for you. I can cook good
kakana
for you and her.’

‘I don’t think so.’

She strained off the leaves, dumped them in a bowl. ‘You never bring the pretty
maramas
here. To your home.’ She pursed her lips, her coal-black eyes pierced his. ‘Maybe you like this one more than the others—you bring her.’

‘Tenika …’

‘Maybe you marry her. Make babies.’ Wiping her hands on her apron, she nodded to him. ‘Fijian people like babies. I can help.’

Tenika and Malakai had never had children of their own. Nic saw the emptiness in her eyes sometimes but Tenika would have to look elsewhere for surrogate grandkids.

‘I know you can,’ he said softly. He took the hibiscus from behind his ear and slid it behind hers. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

He took the back route through the gate to avoid running into staff who’d expect him to stop and talk. He’d planned his time and didn’t want those plans disrupted. The
Meke
started at dusk. This evening was perfect—still
and warm, with a multi-hued sky and the charcoal aroma from the open-air barbecue.

He had access to all areas of the complex and it had been a simple task to learn that she was staying in one of the resort’s most exclusive bures.

He knocked, and a moment later she cracked open the door.

‘Good evening.’

She opened the door wider. ‘I’ve been expecting you to show up.’ She wore a black sarong spattered with electric blue and white frangipani flowers, giving him an unobstructed view of her neck and shoulders—his gaze lowered—and obviously no bra. Her glossy hair was piled on top of her head.

‘It was only a matter of time.’ He leaned against the door frame with a smile.

‘Guess you’d better come in.’ She walked away but looked back at him over one of those bare shoulders. ‘Did you work your charm on the girls at Reception too?’

He stepped inside, closed the door behind him. ‘Didn’t need to. I’m a silent partner—finding one Charlotte Dumont on the books was easy peasy.’

Her shoulders tensed before she continued across the room. ‘I see.’

‘Your name was on Malakai’s airport’s pick-up sheet.’

‘And, of course, you couldn’t help noticing.’ Those pretty grey eyes were clouded with worry when she finally stopped and turned to him. ‘So I guess you know all about me now.’

‘If you mean did I do a computer check on you, the answer’s no. I respect privacy. But if you want to tell me a bit about yourself, that’s fine too. I was hoping it might be tonight.’ He saw her notebook PC on the desk and gestured
with his chin. ‘You won’t find me on any social-networking sites.’

She blushed.
Guilty
. ‘I wasn’t … Much.’ She crossed to the desk quickly and switched it off. ‘You said you write computer games. I’d’ve thought you’d want a link so your fans could contact you.’

‘I use a pseudonym.’

‘That’s convenient.’ Her tone was sceptical, like her expression.

‘Isn’t it.’ Walking towards her, he dug his wallet from his back pocket and flashed his driver’s licence in front of her eyes. ‘Read this. Aloud.’

‘Dominic T. Russo.’ She nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘And …’ he took out her sketch, unfolded it and held it out ‘.I thought you might be wondering where this was.’

She took one look at the page, closed her eyes and folded it again and muttered something short and unexpectedly earthy.

‘Charlotte, you just keep on surprising me.’ He loved the way her cheeks coloured, the vulnerability she couldn’t hide. It stirred up his protective side, amongst other things. ‘Your secrets are safe with me.’

Her eyes darkened and sparked at the same time and he knew she was thinking about their one night together. Her fingers tightened on the page. ‘I didn’t even check them … You flustered me this morning.’ She fanned her face with it. ‘You’re flustering me now.’

‘Am I?’ He assumed an expression of mock concern. ‘Anything I can do to help ease that?’

‘I refuse to answer on the grounds that it might cause me to break out in a rash that would prohibit me from leaving this room for the rest of the evening.’

‘Tell you what, why don’t you answer and we’ll deal with the rash together if it happens?’

‘Why don’t I?’ But she only slid the page between the covers of her sketch pad. ‘Thanks for hand-delivering it.’

‘I didn’t think you’d want it floating around the complex. It looks important,’ he prompted.

But she only said, ‘It could be,’ without elaborating and slid her notebook into its leather bag. ‘I was just going to change and go down to watch the dancing.’

‘That’s handy because I came to ask you if you’d like to accompany me and maybe get something to eat after. But don’t change, you fit right in as you are. The resort’s casual, and loads of tourists wear their swimming costumes and sarongs.’

‘Not me.’ She crossed to the cupboard, pulled out a long white dress.

He shook his head. As stunning as he imagined she’d look in the slim sheath, he wanted to see her in those vibrant colours for a change. They accentuated her eyes and made them come alive. ‘When in the islands, do as the islanders do. Keep the sarong. Please.’ Besides, he wanted the chance to take it off her later.

She drew in a deep breath as if giving it some thought, then slid the dress back in the cupboard and said, ‘Give me a moment to freshen up at least,’ and disappeared into the en-suite bathroom.

He sat on one of the roomy saucer-shaped bamboo chairs to wait. Her suitcase was open on the bag stand. His gaze wandered over the contents. Underwear. Every colour, every fabric, every fantasy. If he had his way, he’d enjoy watching her dance instead, wearing his choice of garments. Then peeling every one of them from her body. Slowly.

But he put those carnal thoughts on hold. Tonight was about getting to know her in a social context. It was about discovering more about Charlotte the person.

To start with, at least.

Walking to the window, he stared out at the sunset reflecting off the ocean. They’d get to know each other a little better, enjoy a few more nights together, then she’d be gone. He didn’t even have to make some excuse to call it off and leave.

Perfect.

Charlotte’s fingers trembled slightly as she pulled the elastic out of her hair. She ran a brush through the tangled mess. Seeing Nic hadn’t made her shaky—if you discounted the quiver of desire running the length of her inner thighs the instant he’d appeared in her doorway—it was the knowledge that he’d seen her risqué bedroom designs.

She adjusted and retied the sarong’s knot between her breasts. She hated drawing attention to herself but maybe Nic was right. If she went casual, she’d blend in with the rest of the crowd. She left her hair down, scooping one side behind her ear.

So much for telling Nic to stay away. She knew exactly how the evening was going to end if he had his way. And she wouldn’t fight it; she knew that too.

She was also looking forward to watching the traditional dance with him, sharing some time over a drink or a meal. Finding answers. As long as she treated him with the caution one usually reserved for dangerous animals, she’d be fine.

It was a perfect outdoors evening. The still water reflected the last sliver of sun. Coconut palms were silhouetted against an ocean of red and an orange sky. Someone was lighting the kerosene torches and cauldrons; the warm smell wafted on the sultry air.

‘The younger kids from the local village school are performing tonight,’ he said as they walked towards the
sounds of tribal drumming. There was an almost possessive note to his voice.

‘You know these kids?’

‘I’ve been involved with the school’s computer literacy programme for a couple of years now, so yeah. The older kids help the younger ones. One big family, no one’s excluded. It’s the Fijian way.’

From his tone, Charlotte had a feeling Nic had missed out on those things while growing up.

They sat on benches with other guests to watch the show. A troupe of male dancers entertained them first, burnished bodies gleaming in the firelight. Then the women, festooned with flowers, their grass skirts alive with movement. The kids joined in last, to the audience’s delight and applause.

As the crowd dispersed to find their way to one of the complex’s half a dozen restaurants, Nic signalled one of the dancers. ‘Kas!’

‘Nic!’ she called, with a smile, and hurried over, her grass skirt rustling. ‘
Bula
. You’re back!’ They bussed cheeks. ‘The kids have missed you.’ She tapped him lightly with her palm fan. ‘Hope you’re going to remedy that soon.’ She turned her wide smile on Charlotte.
‘Bula.’

‘Charlotte,’ he said, with a light touch at her back. ‘This is Kasanita Blackman, our dance teacher—just one of her many teaching skills. Charlotte’s a friend visiting here for a couple of weeks.’

‘
Bula
. It’s nice to meet you.’

‘Welcome to Fiji, Charlotte. I hope you enjoyed our special performance. We’ve been practising for a month.’

‘It was fantastic. The kids seemed to be enjoying it as much as the audience.’

‘Ah, yes, they’re so excited.’ Kasanita groaned. ‘I don’t think we’ll get any serious school work done tomorrow.’

Charlotte grinned. ‘I bet.’

‘Why don’t you come and visit us while you’re here? Get Nic to bring you when he comes. That’s assuming you like kids and noise.’

‘I love kids and noise … I think. I haven’t been inside a classroom in years.’

‘Okay, then. I hope to see you soon. Nic?’

‘How about tomorrow? Charlotte?’ He turned to her. ‘Does that suit you?’

She smiled. ‘I’m looking forward to it already.’

A chance to see a little of the real Fiji that other tourists might not. But more than that, she was looking forward to learning more about Nic and the support he gave the school. She admired guys who supported charities, especially when there was nothing in it for them personally—unlike Flynn who only did it to further his political ambitions.

They chatted with Kasanita a few moments then said their goodbyes.

‘She’s lovely,’ Charlotte said as they walked towards one of the outdoor restaurants. ‘English surname—did she marry an Aussie?’

‘Her father’s Australian, her mother’s a local. He came here for work, they met and he never left.’

He led her to a quiet candle-lit table away from the rest of the diners and she knew he’d reserved it for them in advance. Right on the sand with the water lapping a few metres away, spotlights throwing up an amber glow on coconut palms, a candle in a frosted glass on the table.

A waiter appeared, his black
sulu
topped with the resort’s black and aqua shirt. He set a couple of fancy fruit cocktails in front of them. Nic ordered a shared plate of local Indian delicacies and spoke with Timi for a few moments—he seemed to be on a first-name basis with all the
staff—then they toasted the evening with their drinks. Something deliciously smooth and frothy with coconut, pineapple, fresh lime and alcohol.

Nic waited until Timi had gone to get closer to his dinner companion. Her hands were resting on the table as she leaned back on her chair to admire the stars and he couldn’t resist running a finger lightly across her knuckles.

‘So, Charlotte,’ he began, capturing her eyes as her gaze snapped back to him. ‘We’ve seen each other naked. I think it’s time we got acquainted on another level, don’t you?’

She made some kind of strangled sound in her throat and sucked deeply on her cocktail straw. He’d never seen such beautiful eyes. Even in semi-darkness they shone with an inner luminescence that only drew him closer.
A moth to the flame
.

He leaned in, his forearms on the table. He didn’t mind the heat, and he wasn’t averse to taking a risk. Taking risks had got him where he was today, but he waited a moment longer to let her settle. ‘Ask me something.’

‘Okay, I have a question,’ she said slowly. ‘Kasanita mentioned you’ve not been back in a while, yet you said you live here—how does that work?’

‘I have an apartment in Adelaide. I divide my time between the two.’

Her eyes flickered. ‘You’re from Adelaide too?’

‘Originally from Victoria. I moved to South Australia more than ten years ago. So there’s a possibility of seeing you wandering Adelaide’s Rundle Mall some day?’