“What do you mean?” A pulse had started up low in my body and it had everything to do with the idea of Max Banks and the delicious scent of his skin, and me wondering if it would taste as good as it smelt.
“I see emotions chasing across your face. I wonder if they’re real.”
“What emotions?”
He lowered his voice and leant closer. “Attraction,” he whispered next to my ear.
I started trembling then, so when he pulled back to look at me I had nothing. I was a warm, loose-limbed puddle of mush that wanted to smear itself all over his body. All I could do was stare at him, and he stared back.
“Mr. Banks.” His assistant was at his side.
“Traci,” he said briskly, and transferred his gaze to her as he buttoned his jacket, looking very businesslike all of a sudden. “Have you eaten?”
“Thank you, yes.”
Jealousy squirmed in my gut, but he was looking at her in a matter-of-fact way. His softened eyes and that sexy smirk hadn’t appeared for anyone else. Only me. I wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but it had to mean something.
Traci nodded, flicking that straight blond ponytail. “Just over two hours until we leave town.”
“Good,” he replied. “I want to look around.”
She nodded again and I suddenly wondered if she’d be coming with us. I probably needed a chaperone so I could get the idea of sex in a paddock with cows milling around us out of my head. But on the other hand, I recklessly wanted him to myself so I could have more of this flirting that was making me so excited I felt like my skin might burst.
There was terror in there as well—of stuffing up and having to explain that to Jill—but the aliveness of being around him was addictive. And because he was going in two hours, I kidded myself that I could handle it. A hundred and twenty measly minutes. What could go wrong?
“On foot?” Traci asked, as if he had to answer to her.
That got my back up, and I couldn’t stop myself inspecting her, from the top of her scraped-back ponytail, down over her black vest and jeans to her solid biker boots.
She wasn’t plain, but neither was she stunning, and I supposed a celebrity assistant was more valuable if they faded into the background and didn’t distract attention from the star. Certainly her flat, emotionless expression seemed to shut down anything about her that wasn’t functional.
More importantly, however, there was zero chemistry between them, and for reasons that I didn’t want to look at, that was a relief.
Max’s bland expression didn’t change, but when he said, “Ms. Wynde has agreed to show me around her little town,” I heard the don’t fuck with me tone in his voice.
“On foot,” Traci said again, an edge in hers. Her feminine biceps bulged as she pulled a phone out of her jeans.
He touched her on the wrist to stop whatever she’d planned to do, and I was struck with the idiotic urge to push his hand off her. Which was flat-out crazy. Jealousy was the last thing I needed to toss into this weird mix of defensiveness, attraction and curiosity that he’d aroused in me.
But in two short hours he’d be gone, then I could come out of the rabbit hole I’d fallen into and try to work out what the hell had happened in my horoscope this week.
“We don’t need an entourage,” he said quietly. “But you can follow a few paces behind.”
What the hell?
I was about to ask what we needed her for when she said, “The town is full. Some convention—”
“Permaculture.” He took his hand off her and glanced at me for confirmation.
I nodded, finally remembering to breathe. I was still trying to catch up with the territorial feelings that had swept over me when he’d touched her. Because I didn’t do jealousy, normally. Even when Alec had run off with his ex, I’d only felt outrage.
This, however…
I shook my head. “What’s going on?”
I wasn’t sure if I was talking to them or myself.
Traci ignored me completely to say to him, “Can’t you drive?”
Max seemed to go still, and I suddenly remembered that stiff expression from countless episodes of Pariah in the Pantry. It was the ‘I’m about to explode’ moment, and I suddenly realized I didn’t want that happening in my shop, especially when I had a full house.
So I hurried to say, “That’s really the only way to see Belandera. By car,” I added. “It’s not as small as you think. And there’s lots to see. Shops. Waterfalls. A rainforest walk. Community Gardens. Cow pastures. A brewery.”
My babbling ground to a halt, and by that time they were both looking at me.
“Good,” Traci said, and glanced at him.
“Good,” he repeated softly, but I could see the effort it was costing him in the tight line of his jaw and the stiffness of his shoulders. Pulling himself back from the brink had been hard.
I suddenly wondered why he had.
Self-control didn’t get you publicity. Outbursts did. Why would he control his natural impulses here? Now?
Traci said, “I’ll bring the car around.”
Max nodded.
When she was gone, we stood silently for over a minute. It was awkward, but I wanted to give him time to sort out whatever was happening inside, because I really appreciated the effort.
Finally, he said, “Do you need to speak to anyone before we leave?”
I’d completely forgotten that. I nodded and said, “I won’t be long.”
“Take your time.”
I stood next to him for another few seconds while we looked at each other and I had no clue why. I just didn’t want to leave him. Maybe I was worried he’d simply walk out.
This wasn’t about the feature anymore. I was honest enough with myself to recognize that I simply wanted to be around him. He made me feel…different. I really liked that.
But I also had responsibilities, so I forced my feet into action and, after telling my relief manager, Desiree, I was leaving, and particularly asking her to watch Marika and let her go home if she needed to, I went back to the booth, but Max wasn’t there.
I found him in the kitchen chatting to Sammie who was blushing like a schoolgirl, from the roots of his surfer dreadlocks to the soles of his canvas loafers. When Max saw me in the doorway, he turned on a megawatt smile that made the inside of my chest flutter like crazy.
“Here she is,” he said, then he shook Sammie’s hand and said, “Fine job, Sammie. Keep it up.”
I’d never seen Sammie look so young. He grinned like a ten-year-old with a ticket to Disneyland. “Thank you Mr. Banks. I will.”
Max nodded graciously, and as we walked through the teahouse, he not only stopped each waiter or waitress to compliment them on their customer service—citing details he must have noticed when I wasn’t watching—he also generously paused to shake the hand of diners who’d suddenly recognized the celebrity in their midst.
It was almost a quarter of an hour and several impromptu photo shoots later that we emerged into the glorious spring sunshine. Traci handed Max the keys to a shiny grey Range Rover she’d parked out the front.
He turned to me. “Would you like to drive? You are the tour guide.”
I took them, surprised that he’d hand over the control so easily. But before I could walk around the car to get into it, Traci materialized in front of me and said quietly, “Ms. Wynde. I trust you will return Mr. Banks safely in an hour and a half. I have a schedule to keep to.”
Her non-expression had been replaced by a frown and I couldn’t help frowning back. “I’m a good driver,” I said, wondering what her problem was. “And I’ll try to keep an eye on the time.”
Although punctuality wasn’t my forte.
She glanced over my shoulder, probably at Max, then she stepped back and pasted on a fake smile. “I’ll see you then.”
“O…kay.”
There really wasn’t anything else to say because the dynamic between the two of them was weird.
So I got
in, took off my high heels and tucked them under the seat which was already adjusted close enough to the pedals for me to drive. Clearly Max with his long legs was used to being the passenger. So was Traci the driver?
Curiosity drove me to say, “What’s that about?” I turned to him as I buckled my seatbelt. “She acts like she’s your mother.”
“Really?” He buckled his seatbelt, then sat back and gazed through the windscreen, clearly not offering an explanation.
Fine.
I wanted to be okay with all this, but Traci was on the sidewalk watching me, standing right in the spot where my father had abused me and I suddenly wondered if this pressure-cooker road trip was a good idea.
I did have Max considering the feature, however, and I didn’t want to stuff that up, so I started the car and pulled away from the curb, earning myself a car horn blast from someone behind me.
Fuck.
I should never drive upset. I didn’t have brilliant concentration to start with, and distractions just eroded that. But I did my best, pointing out the historical buildings on the main street: an old post office with beautiful wrought-iron lacework, a double-story timber emporium that had been owned by the same family for a hundred years, the ancient Art Deco arcade that had been turned into a trendy artisans’ alley.
Then I headed out of town toward the rainforest walk which would lead us to a picturesque waterfall. Some shots from that location would be stunning for the feature and I was hoping it wasn’t damp and muddy—he was so well dressed—when into the air-conditioned silence of the car he said, “I like you. There’s a vulnerability and openness about you that I find very attractive.”
I kept my attention on the road ahead but I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was looking at me. And I was blushing to the roots of my red hair. Again.
“…and in another Universe,” he said quietly, “I’d ask you out to dinner.”
CHAPTER FOUR
He likes me.
My heart stuttered to a stop and my brain simply couldn’t compute, so it was going into shutdown which was dangerous because the road fell away into ditches on either side and there was nowhere to pull over. Instead I turned into a narrow laneway and stopped the car, only then remembering to breathe.
We were under the canopy of a leafy rosewood, and when I opened the window to get some fresh air on my face, I smelt the bracken fern that grew at its base. It was earthy and familiar, and taking deep breaths was the best thing I could have done.
Maxwell Banks might be a celebrity, but in this moment I had the advantage. I was on home turf. I didn’t need to feel out of my depth or overwhelmed. I could simply get out of the car and walk away.
I knew where I was. I could cut across Wilson’s paddock and be home in an hour.
I can walk away from this.
I took another soothing breath and then forced myself to face him. He was watching me. Waiting. But there was nothing impatient about him. If anything, he looked…vulnerable, and that was a surprise.
I licked my lips, wondering what I’d say. The truth would be I’m attracted to you, and I want to have sex with you. But I hadn’t forgotten what Rosie had told me at the wedding, in the powder room. Don’t proposition men. Just look sexy and wait for them to come to you.
A pretty pink sundress wasn’t exactly ‘sexy’ but I did have my hair down, so maybe that counted for something.
I tried to shrug in a sexy way and said, “That Universe where we have dinner sounds good.”
“I wish I was there,” he answered immediately, and leant back against the door to stretch an arm out so he could rest his hand on the back of my seat. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him fingering my hair. “But instead, I find myself here, in a world where people watch your every move, and the success of your next project rests on how much of a bastard you can be.”
He stopped looking at my hair and met my gaze. “So instead of having all the time in the world to discover your hidden secrets…” His voice had dropped into an intimate rumble. “…I have an hour. And I’d like to use that to find out more about you.”
I’d like to drive to my house and get naked with you in bed.
No.
I couldn’t say that.
I also couldn’t sit in the intimate confines of his luxurious car and not pounce on him. He was a man, and he was attracted to me. Seriously, that was all I needed to get naked. Except, he didn’t want that. So I tilted my head toward the windscreen. “Do you want the rest of the tour?”
He shook his head.
“You want to stay here?”
He sat up straighter and dropped his hand. “I want you to talk to me.”
“About what?”
“Anything.” He smiled. “I just want to hear your voice.”
This was new. Usually men wanted you to stop talking so they could kiss you or fuck you. Even Alec, who I’d lived with for three years, had never instigated a discussion for no reason.
Instinctively, I shook my head. “I need a topic.”
He laughed and it took my breath, he was that handsome. The longer I was in his proximity, the more I was seeing him, and that frightened me. What if I started obsessing about him after he left? Would that make me sad?
“You don’t treat me like a star,” he said. “Or like rubbish.” He nodded in what looked like approval. “You’re straight-up with me. Like Traci. I admire that.”
“And do you like her too?” I couldn’t keep the snarkiness out of my tone.
He shook his head. “She’s married with two children. I’m just a job to her. And even if I wasn’t, she’s not my type.”
It was wrong, but I felt my shoulders relaxing. “What is your type?” I asked casually, as if this was all intellectual curiosity, and I wasn’t hanging on his every word.
His smile grew wry. “Well, you’ll see me with blond actresses at awards nights because that’s the particular ‘accessory’ that my manager thinks suits my image. Sexist bastard.” He shrugged. “But I haven’t had a type…until now.”
I stared into those dark eyes, suddenly aware of how warm it was in the car, and how intimate it felt to be miles from town, parked on a back lane where no one would find us, sitting within touching distance.
“Now,” he said softly, “I suspect my type is a reckless redhead with coltish legs, a mouth that she can’t keep from honesty, and dark honey eyes that I want to see gazing at me. Because that makes me feel warm in places that have been cold for far too long…”
His eyes were sad but all I could think was, that was romantic. I should have been flattered. Instead, I found myself searching his eyes to see if he was teasing me. In the end, I said, “These warm places…are we talking about your cock?”
His smile was slow and completely wicked. “No, I’m talking about my cold British heart, luv. But I must admit when you look at me like that—”
“Like what?”
“As if you can’t stop thinking about sex—”
“I can’t.”
Frankly, I was tired of trying to hide it.
“—you do make it difficult to stay on topic.”
“So we’re not having sex.”
I wanted to be sure.
His wicked smile hadn’t shifted. “No we’re not,” he confirmed.
“Because…” I shook my head. “…you want to be the one that got away?”
“I want you to respect me,” he replied, straight faced.
“I see.”
I didn’t at all, but a girl has to say something. Strangely, I wasn’t deflated. He liked me, and it seemed obvious that he desired me. Every so often his gaze dipped to my gesturing hands or down to my legs. He wasn’t so different to other guys in that regard. But the restraint thing was new.
“So…” I shrugged. “We’re just going to talk?”
“On this occasion,” he said softly, and his glance was suddenly meaningful.
That could only mean one thing. “You’re doing the feature.�
��
“Yes. I’m doing the feature.”
It was so hard to look nonchalant and hold in my Squee!
I wanted to phone Jill immediately, but I figured it would be smarter to wait until he’d left town, just in case I did something unforgivable and he changed his mind. I wouldn’t put it past me.
“…but you have to promise,” he went on, “that you’ll be more discreet about my business than you are about Noah Steele’s.”
I knew that would come back to bite me.
“I was showing off,” I admitted. “It was unforgivable.” I frowned because I was worried about the fact that Traci had also heard me bragging.
As if he was reading my mind he said, “My assistants sign confidentiality contracts. Noah will never find out what you said from us.”
I nodded, relieved that my mistake had been so easily smoothed over. But he looked momentarily superior about it—or at least it seemed that way to me—so in self-defense I said, “That’s my embarrassment out of the way. Tell me something you’re embarrassed about. Something no-one else knows.”
I could see he was surprised by my question, but to his credit he didn’t look affronted. He merely nodded in a fair enough kind of way and said, “Well I don’t ever speak about it, but I do have a small dick.”
I blinked, several times, and I think my mouth dropped open as I thought Well that won’t fly. Then I noticed the edges of his mouth turning up so I pointed a finger. “You’re lying.”
He nodded. “I am. My dick is quite sizable in fact.”
He was smirking and I barked a laugh, suddenly…enjoying myself. I couldn’t help saying, “You’re so different to what I expected.”
His smile softened and those warm brown eyes gentled. “Yet you are exactly what I expected from the moment I met you. No guile. No trickery. Just you.” He nodded to himself. “Perfect.”
“Far from,” I hurried to say. My girlfriends loved me but they’d be the first to admit I was a universe away from perfection.
“We’ll see,” he replied enigmatically, then, “A secret from you now.” I frowned and he added, “One that nobody knows.”
Okay. That would be hard. I shared everything with the girls, or at least with Jill. Except, there was one thing I’d never told anyone, especially not Jill. But to tell it to a stranger…
Husband Rollover (Husband Series Book 4) Page 6