The Price of Fame (9 page)

‘Fine. He was harmless, Nic.’ She shrugged, then smiled. ‘Seems I can’t avoid the press here after all.’

‘What did he ask you?’ he demanded. ‘What did you tell him?’

‘That I was enjoying Fiji very much.’

She ran a finger over the smooth shell she was holding then looked up at him from beneath the hat’s brim. Even from behind her sunglasses her eyes shone, telling him he had a lot to do with how much she was enjoying her vacation.

‘Thank you, but you don’t have to fight my battles for me. I’m okay.’

From out of nowhere, a sense of possessiveness rose up inside him like a rogue wave—and everyone knew rogue waves were dangerous. ‘Let’s go, babe.’ Shaking off the unnerving sensation, he grabbed her hand and started jogging back up the beach.

‘Hang on.’ She stumbled a little as he tugged her with him towards the car park. ‘What’s the sudden rush? The guy’s gone; you scared him off good and proper.’

‘You promised to model for me. I want to make sure you don’t change your mind.’

‘I never said …’

He turned and grinned at her. ‘And in return, I promise you’ll enjoy it as much as I will.’

‘Oh.’ She smiled back. ‘Okay, when you put it like that what are we waiting for?’

They ran all the way back to the car.

‘What shall I start with?’ she said when they closed the door to her room behind them.

‘Surprise me,’ Nic said, tossing his sunglasses on the bed.

‘But I don’t know what you like.’

He touched his lips to hers, but didn’t linger; he wanted to watch her show off her work first and draw out the anticipation. ‘I guarantee I’ll like anything you want to show me.’ He helped himself to a bottle of water from the mini-fridge, poured half into a glass for Charlotte and set it on the shelf. ‘Any colour that’s not beige.’

‘I don’t have beige lingerie.’

‘Thank God for that.’ He took a long swig from the bottle.

‘But I do have skin tone.’

‘No skin tone. The only skin tone I want to see you in is the real thing. You’re a girl who should breathe colour.’

‘Okay, I’ll start with what I’m wearing now.’

He didn’t look at her as he walked to the louvred panel that closed off her balcony, slid it open. ‘When you’re ready, come out here.’ Moist tropical air wafted in, scented with salt and foliage. The bure was perched on the hill, the balcony private and overlooking the sea. He stripped down to skin and set his clothes within reach on the edge of the pool.

The palms cast dappled shade on the water as he lowered himself into the pool and leaned back against the edge, spreading his arms along the tiles. He needed the water’s bite to cool his blood and lend him restraint if he wasn’t going to drag her in with him straight off and have his way with her.

To his relief, he didn’t have long to wait.

She appeared in the doorway like a fantasy come to life and he quickly realised it wasn’t relief, it was a form of torture. And he’d been the one to suggest it.

He held his breath, then let it out with a growl at the back of his throat as he took in the sight of her breasts spilling over a slash of hot pink and brilliant aqua. A tiny glimpse of dark nipple in the slit where pink met blue. The panties were kept together at the back with a cheeky blue shoelace.

‘You were wearing
that
while we were in a classroom full of children?’

‘Um …’ She grinned, lips pressed together. ‘Just lucky it wasn’t gym class while we were there, wasn’t it?’

He swallowed. ‘I’m glad I didn’t know. So that’s your usual day wear?’

‘Yes.’ She ran the tips of her fingers inside the waistband
of her panties. ‘These are new. I’ve been working on a different line since I became single again. It’s fun.’

‘I’m sure it is …’ He surged forward. ‘Come here.’

With a mock stern look, she held up a finger. ‘Not yet. This was your idea, remember.’

‘Okay.’ He just might last a few more moments, he thought as she disappeared again, leaving her tempting fragrance behind her. Then again, he might not.

Less than a minute later she was back in a black and white number. A skinny white lace thong. The string of black pearls at the back disappeared between firm, round buttocks.

His mouth watered and his eyes followed her as she circled the pool, keeping just out of reach. ‘You’re a naughty girl.’

She laughed lightly, her hands clasped behind her back, which had the arousing effect of pushing her breasts forward. Her nipples stood erect against the black lace like bullets. ‘And the best part is that no one knows.’

‘
I
know.’

‘In which case, I may just have to kill you.’ She crouched down, swished a hand through the water. ‘But before I do, I think you’ll like my wet look. Shiny black—’

‘Come here.’

‘Or my lotus butterfly …’

Frustration gave him agility and he surged forward, grasped a slender ankle. ‘Later,’ he told her, his hand moving higher, over her calf where her skin was hot and smooth and firm.

‘But I’m just getting started,’ the voice above him complained. ‘And I’ve never done this before. Indulge me.’

He looked up, past lace and curves and bare flesh. Her eyes reflected the water’s ripples, making them dance and
sparkle with light and fun. She knew exactly what she was doing to him.

‘Oh, I’ll indulge you,’ he promised, every cell in his body on fire. ‘In the water. Now.’

‘Oh, well, if you insist. But first, we need …’ reaching for his trousers on the tiles beside him, she felt in the pockets and pulled out a foil packet ‘… one of these.’

With the condom packet between her teeth, she slid slowly down into the water beside him, inch by excruciating inch, the bra’s lacy texture rasping against his chest. Her legs twined around his like electric eels, sending sparks shocking straight to his groin.

Fire and ice. Cool water swirling over hot skin. He slid his hand between her shoulder blades and down, over each vertebra, the pearls between her buttocks. Then he turned her around so that he could feel the erotic sensation of the tiny baubles against his erection. Groaning with the pleasure, he bit into her shoulder as he slid the lacy garment down her thighs with his hands, then his toes.

She tasted of the beach and the sun and freedom. ‘You’re gorgeous.’ He unclasped her bra, then pulled her back against him and filled his hands with her womanly shape, feeling the tight, water-chilled buds against his fingers. ‘Refreshing and gorgeous.’

Leaning back against him, she let her legs float to the surface in front of her. ‘You’re not half bad yourself.’

It was a languid moment at odds with the way his body craved and his mind reeled—because it wasn’t just the physical intimacy he whispered about against her ear. He wanted more, and he wanted to tell her. How she blew him away on so many levels. How he’d never met anyone like her. So it was as well she broke the calm with a quick fluid movement.

When she turned to face him, he saw the same emotions
in her eyes before she blinked them away with a sparkling smile.

‘That’s enough,’ she said with a laugh. She dangled the foil packet above her head. ‘You have to work for the rest.’ Jerking out of his grasp, she ducked beneath the surface and shot away like a fair-skinned dolphin to the far end of the pool, elegant and sleek. Then she dived deeper and only her legs broke the surface, perfectly shaped calves, feet arched, toes pointed like a ballet dancer’s.

Seconds later, she reappeared, swiped her hair from her face and waved the packet in front of her. ‘Hey, you’re supposed to come and catch me.’

‘Where did you learn to swim like that?’

‘Synchronised swimming classes at school for a couple of years.’

‘Is harp playing on your list of accomplishments too?’

‘Piano.’

He nodded. Naturally she’d have gone to a private and exclusive school, he thought, watching her careless smile. Taking such extra-curricular activities for granted. A school with its own private and exclusive pool. Halls of learning, where that learning was valued. The best education money could buy for the Barossa wine princess.

He thought of the school he’d attended in one of Melbourne’s seedier districts. Neglected buildings. A cramped, pot-holed playground where kids were bored and turned their attention to other activities. Like making life a living hell for those younger and smaller than themselves.

She stared at him, her smile fading. ‘Something wrong?’

He shook off the old taunts with a grin. ‘What’s wrong is you’re too far away.’ Then he dived under the water towards her.

S
HIVERS
chased over Charlotte’s skin as Nic closed in, his tanned, muscled torso streamlined and swift. He seemed so predatory that instinctively she backed up, bumping against the pool’s smooth tiles.

He surfaced right in front of her, water sluicing off his face and hair. ‘Gotcha,’ he murmured, snatching the forgotten condom from her nerveless fingers, then placing his arms on the pool’s rim on either side of her.

Trapped. And right where she wanted to be.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded. His eyes had lost the sombre expression she’d noticed seconds ago but what she saw there now was no less acute. Desire and intent. His gaze didn’t leave hers as he ripped open the foil packet and sheathed himself.

Gone was the light-hearted banter, the teasing, the sexy foreplay. Something deeper emerged, like fresh water from a hidden spring. Mystifying and mysterious. As they watched each other an unspoken intimacy surrounded them like the heavy scent of the tropical blooms off the balcony.

She could hear the sounds of children splashing in the resort’s family pool some distance away, the palm fronds flapping in the afternoon breeze. Nic’s breathing. Her own. She was falling for him the way she’d never fallen for
anyone before. Because he was unlike anyone she’d ever known.

And he wasn’t the kind of guy she should be falling for. She needed stability, someone who’d be there for life. But she was powerless to resist him as he slid his hands over her breasts.

‘Nic …’

‘Shh.’

The heat of his tongue combined with the cool water, a mingling of stunning sensations as she leaned back on the edge of the pool, gave up trying to reason it all out and surrendered.

After the poolside chase and inevitable capture, she’d expected a fast and furious encounter, but this was lazy, almost luxurious. The long, slow pull of his mouth on her nipple. The glide of her legs between his. The sluggish swirl of water as he pushed slowly and deeply inside her.

Moaning with the pleasure, she slid her hands over his damp, water-cooled back, then across his shoulders, loving the hardness of him, her movements in slow motion while her mind drifted like organza ribbons in an idle draught.

He withdrew a little and raised his head to look at her. Then plunged deep and slow and true, filling her.
Ful
filling her.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, she watched him. The afternoon sun danced through the leaves and stroked his face with bronze. Luxuriant black lashes framed his eyes; hues of amber gleamed in the ebony irises. Once again she was the prey and she couldn’t look away. Powerful, penetrating, persuasive, he drew her inside him until she no longer existed outside his aura. And the deep, dark places in her soul brimmed and overflowed with the emotion she was coming to realise only he could wring from her.

The days passed too swiftly. Nic took Charlotte on a yachting expedition to a nearby island where they enjoyed seafood and champagne on board, then went snorkelling in the aquamarine shallows and lazed on the golden beach. There were a couple of occasions when she felt the paparazzi’s presence but they didn’t approach and she didn’t let it bother her. She loved the open-air farmers’ markets alive with aromatic spices, greens of every description, pineapples, taro and yams.

They attended the resort’s traditional
lovo
and kava ceremony. A whole pig, wrapped in palm leaves and surrounded with taro and breadfruit, was cooked in an earth oven filled with hot volcanic rocks. They enjoyed every sunset together. Whether it was sipping cocktails from one of the resort’s restaurants, or making love on the private strip of beach near his house or enjoying a barbecue on board a schooner, Nic made every occasion unique.

She discovered new things about him. He liked having his ear lobes rubbed but vehemently refused to submit to the silk scarf blindfold she’d teased him with. There was a scar over his left hip from a surfing accident.

He sent fresh frangipanis to her room every day, took her on a midnight picnic, organised a candle-lit massage for the two of them on the beach and made love to her as if she were the only woman in the world, tenderly and fiercely and everything in between.

He couldn’t have done much work unless he was a freak of nature and didn’t require sleep. But he didn’t sleep with her. Each night he returned to his house on the hill. She believed it was his way of maintaining that one-step-back rule he had.

He’d been straight with her from the start—
part-time tour guide with benefits
—giving her no reason to build
a fantasy future around them. But it didn’t stop her from lying awake at night by herself and imagining.

She wasn’t a good muse after all. Nic leaned back in his chair, scowling at his computer screens. Stupid o’clock in the morning and nothing he tried was working. Every time he thought he knew where the game was heading, he hit a dead end. Charlotte—
Reena
, he corrected himself—his game’s new heroine, blocked Onyx One’s movements at every turn. Tugging at Onyx with her bewitching eyes and throwing him off balance. Charlotte’s eyes.

Ridiculous
. He forced the notion away, re-evaluated his last idea, then deleted it. He’d hit a snag, that was all. Just because his hero refused to cooperate and the plot wasn’t panning out the way it should, didn’t mean Charlotte had anything to do with it.

Or did it?

He swung his chair around and stared through the open doors where starlight painted the palms with silver. Maybe he should make the dark-haired Reena a blonde. Or a fiery redhead. Even a silver-haired temptress. But then, why allow his obsession with a woman to dictate the most important thing in his life—his work?

He’d end this thing with Charlotte now, and reclaim his creativity, which had mysteriously dried up. Shoving a hand through his hair, he glared at his screens. His modus operandi with women had been the same for years. Enjoy the fun and romance of it all but never let them too close. Never allow himself to forget Angelica and the lesson he’d learned. Work was his life, he didn’t need anything or anyone.

But for the first time in for ever, his cyber world wasn’t doing it for him. He wanted to spend what was left of Charlotte’s time here with her. Preferably in bed.

He assured himself that, like all good endings, their
final goodbye should be a satisfying resolution. Then he’d be able to put it behind him and get on with what mattered in his life.

And what the hell was it about his predictable life that mattered so damn much? On an oath, he shut down his computer and paced to the window to stare at the black-roofed bures. White ribbons streaked the dark sea beyond, its gentle omnipresent sound soothing.

It wasn’t only Charlotte’s sensuality that had him burning and reaching for her over and over again. Beneath the hot-blooded goddess she had a vulnerability that tugged at his heart and made him want to protect her while at the same time coax her out of that shell he’d glimpsed when she thought he wasn’t looking.

With Charlotte there was empathy—for himself and for others, both in her words and her actions. She had a wicked sense of humour he suspected she rarely allowed others to see. Deep down she was a private person, and, more, she recognised and
respected
that facet of his own personality.

Charlotte had made him realise that not all women were like Angelica, out to get whatever they could. He’d found a woman he not only enjoyed physically and socially, but one he could trust enough to allow a glimpse into his world, and tonight was his last chance to invite her into his home.

The next morning, instead of the usual bouquet of frangipani Charlotte had come to expect, a single white orchid arrived in a vase along with a gilt-edged envelope.

Her whole body turned to stone. Flynn had sent her a single white rose the morning after he’d ended their engagement. There’d been a little envelope and, inside, a card that said, ‘Thanks for the memories.’

Palms sweating so hard she thought she’d drop the vase, she carried it outside to the table on the balcony and
sat down. She stared at it for a long moment, a giant fist clenched around her heart. No matter what the message said, this was a timely reminder that her holiday fling with Nic was almost over.

She was still staring at it when Nic’s special knock sounded on the door. Bracing herself, she went to open it.

He looked as fresh as the morning’s orchid. As sexy as midnight on black silk sheets. ‘Hi.’ She gave him a smile and struggled to keep her voice free and easy while that fist tightened around her heart. ‘Come on in. I’m nearly ready.’

He waited until she’d shut the door before kissing her thoroughly. She clung to him a moment before reminding herself she’d be gone in twenty-four hours, and deliberately stepped away first.

She swung away from the gorgeous sight of his well-honed body and walked to the balcony. ‘The orchid’s beautiful, thank you.’

‘I saw it by the back door and thought of you.’

‘You grow orchids?’ She turned back to study him, head to one side. ‘You just don’t look the domestic gardening type.’

‘Malakai does most of the work, actually.’ He jiggled his brows. ‘Want to come up and see my collection?’

A grin tugged at her mouth. ‘Don’t you mean Malakai’s collection?’

‘Whatever gets you there,’ he said with an answering grin.

Surprise lifted her brows. ‘To your house?’

Still grinning, he walked towards her. ‘So you haven’t read the note yet.’

‘I haven’t got around to it.’ She hugged her arms, then recognised her insecure action and reached for the unopened envelope on the table. ‘Actually, I was thinking of giving the market a miss this morning. I need some time …
To pack.’ She stared at the table, preferring the orchid’s beauty to the look she’d see in his eyes. The look that made her as helpless as a butterfly under glass.

‘Fine.’ He was suddenly there beside her, smelling of his familiar spicy cologne. He touched the side of her face. ‘It’s fine if that’s true. But I know you better than you think. Something’s changed.’

‘Nothing’s changed.’

‘We’ve always been up front with each other, Charlotte. At least, I have.’

She bit down on her lip before deciding maybe it was time to give a little. After all, what did it matter now? ‘It’s weird, the timing—Flynn left me a white rose and a note when we … when
he
chose his career in politics over me.’

He studied her through narrowed eyes. ‘Why did he have to choose? Why couldn’t he have both?’

‘Because I was an embarrassment to him. A liability for any potential politician.’

His brows lowered and his voice was hard as nails when he said, ‘Then he’s an idiot and you’re better off without him.’

‘Forget him. I have. The whole thing’s a reminder to me that I’m leaving tomorrow.’
And you said it yourself, there is no ‘us’
.

‘So … have you got plans for when you get home?’

‘I have tickets for the opera at the Festival Theatre to look forward to. It’s “Carmen”, my favourite.’ Even if she’d more than likely bump into the press, who’d ask her all about the break-up.

But over the past couple of weeks her confidence had lifted. She’d not even felt out of her depth when the guy on the beach had approached her. Just a brief friendly exchange. Nothing to be alarmed about. She realised maybe
she could—no, she
would
—face the public without the old insecurities.

‘Tickets?’ he was saying, dragging her back to the present. ‘As in more than one?’

‘Flynn was supposed to go with me. I bought them months ago. Do you like opera?’

‘Never been.’

She nodded. ‘It’s not for everyone.’

His jaw tightened and she knew she’d offended him. That he thought she thought he wasn’t cultured enough. Whatever the heck that meant.

She smiled to dispel an awkward moment and told him, ‘It wasn’t Dad’s cup of tea either. Wild horses wouldn’t have dragged him there.’ She slid the envelope back and forth between her fingers. ‘You’ll be glad to get back to work, I bet. You’ve been neglecting it to entertain me.’

‘It’s been worth every moment.’

His eyes seemed to melt into hers and for an instant something dangerously like hope rose up inside her. Futile hope.

Then he swiped the envelope from her hand and screwed it up. ‘Bad idea, this,’ he said, tossing it into the waste-paper basket. ‘So I’ll just say it instead. I want you to join me for a popular Fijian meal tonight. And I’m going to cook.’ He grabbed her hand and began tugging her to the door. ‘Which is why we’re going to the market.’

She tried to grab her bag on the fly. ‘Hang on …’

He stopped and his eyes searched hers. ‘Unless you really do want to be alone?’

No
. She saw something in his brown-eyed gaze that had her heart stuttering. She picked up her bag and a hat. ‘I’ll pack this afternoon.’

Nic’s waterfront home was airy and spacious, with white marbled floors and panoramic views of the coastline.
They’d barely set foot in the modern kitchen—vibrant red with stainless-steel appliances—when Nic’s housekeeper appeared in the doorway with a wide flat basket of fresh-picked vegetables under one arm.

‘Ah, there you are.’ Nic smiled at the middle-aged woman. ‘Tenika, I’d like you to meet Charlotte. Tenika’s agreed to let me loose in the kitchen this evening.’

Charlotte nodded. ‘
Bula
. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tenika.’

‘Bula vinaka.’
Tenika’s deep voice seemed to resonate through her ample body, her eyes livened with interest as they flicked between the two of them.

Nic’s mobile rang at that moment and he excused himself and moved away to answer it.

‘So how long have you worked for Nic?’ Charlotte asked.

‘Seven years. When he come here, he give me and my husband work. Very kind man.’ She set her basket on the black granite counter top, nimble fingers picking off the few wilted leaves. ‘You like Fiji?’

‘Very much.’

‘You come back again. Nic alone too much after that bad one gone.’ She tossed the discarded leaves into the sink, the action as eloquent as any words.