Public Affair, Secretly Expecting

by Heidi Rice

  She coloured as the tension left his face and he grinned. Had she made a complete idiot of herself? ‘Sorry. Was that as stupid as it sounded?’

  ‘Not at all,’ he said, his grin getting even bigger. ‘You’ve just given me the best compliment an actor can ever have.’

  ‘I did?’

  ‘That you believed in the character.’

  The pride and sense of achievement in his voice was so genuine, it touched her deeply. ‘Your work means so much to you, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I’ve never found a better way to pay the bills, that’s for sure,’ Mac said flippantly. She was looking at him again in that way she had that made him feel transparent. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

  ‘No, I mean, it’s not the celebrity or the money that matters to you. It’s all about the acting. It’s who you are.’

  How did she know this stuff? Her intuition was uncanny. And unsettling. ‘Yeah, I guess you’re right. Acting saved me.’

  ‘How?’

  He shrugged. He could tell her this. It wasn’t that big a deal—he’d talked about it before in interviews as it was good publicity fodder. ‘I made a lot of bad choices as a teenager, ended up in a juvenile detention centre when I was fifteen.’

  He took a sip of champagne, and wished it were a beer. How had he got into this again? Baring his soul for no good reason.

  ‘They had a social worker there, suggested I try out for a theatre workshop they were doing. I did and that was it. It was like a drug. I didn’t have to be me any more. I could be anyone I wanted to be. And I loved it.’

  A small frown formed on her forehead. ‘Why didn’t you want to be you?’

  Now he really needed that beer. No one had ever been perceptive enough to ask him that before. ‘Because I was a little bastard. Not being me was a good thing. Believe me.’

  Her frown deepened.

  ‘You’re such a brilliant actor, Mac,’ she said, the sincerity in her voice making his heart ricochet against his ribs.

  Why did this suddenly feel like a very big deal?

  ‘And it’s wonderful you found something you’re so good at. But you shouldn’t confuse being in a bad place with being a bad person. It’s not the same thing.’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  She smiled, the complete faith in the gesture doing funny things to his insides.

  ‘You did.’ She stretched onto tiptoes and kissed his cheek, her eyes warm with approval. ‘Acting didn’t save you, Mac. Don’t you realise, you saved yourself?’

  Mac toyed with his second glass of champagne and kept his eyes peeled for Juno’s return from the powder room. Tonight had been a much bigger success than he could have hoped. He hated these affairs, but having Juno with him had made the time fly by.

  And okay, he didn’t know why he’d got so worked up about what she thought of his performance. Plus he wasn’t the sentimental type. But he’d got a real kick out of what she’d said about the film and, well, everything.

  She was good for him. He liked having her around. Why keep on denying it?

  He gulped down a swallow of the sparkling wine, felt the bubbles tickle.

  I don’t want her to leave. Not yet.

  The minute he’d admitted it, the parched feeling in his throat began to ease.

  Was that what had made him feel so uneasy in the last couple of days? Could it be as simple as that? That he just wasn’t ready to let her go?

  But now he thought about it, it made perfect sense. And the solution was even simpler. Why did they need to put an artificial time limit on their affair?

  If they took a couple of months, gave themselves enough time to tire of each other naturally and burn off all this sexual energy—the pressure would be off and the affair could run its natural course.

  He finished off his glass of champagne as he studied the door to the powder room across the dining area, the relief intoxicating. He didn’t have to worry about how much he wanted her any more. About how much he was enjoying her company.

  As soon as she got back he was getting them the hell out of here. They could take the copter back to Laguna and then he intended to indulge the little fantasy he’d been nursing ever since he’d first seen her in that dress.

  Tomorrow morning, he’d tell her he wanted her to stick around a while longer. Given the way she responded to him, he didn’t expect it to be a hard sell.

  ‘Hello, Mac, darling.’

  He tensed, the sultry Southern drawl souring his mood a little.

  He turned. ‘Hello, Gina. You’re looking…’ Immaculate, was his first thought as his gaze drifted over the pristine make-up and the blue silk, expertly hung on her tall, angular and emaciated frame. ‘Nice,’ he finished.

  Funny how Juno’s small, petite frame and artless style stirred his blood in a way Gina and his other girlfriends never had.

  ‘Nice?’ she said, arching one perfectly plucked eyebrow. ‘Now there’s a word to make a woman’s heart flutter.’

  He could see the hurt in her eyes and even three years on felt the pulse of guilt.

  ‘I’m not great with words,’ he said, annoyed with himself. The woman had all but scalped him in the press. What did he have to feel guilty about? ‘Not unless they’re scripted for me.’ If she fancied an argument she’d have to look elsewhere.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said wistfully. ‘You were always very good with words as I recall. But then I always made the mistake of misinterpreting them, didn’t I?’

  The pulse of guilt increased and impatience flared. ‘If there’s a reason we’re having this conversation, maybe you should get to the point?’

  ‘Actually there is a reason.’ She looked down at the champagne stem clutched in her hand. ‘I never apologised to you. For the problems I caused. And I’m sorry. More sorry than I can say.’

  Her apology sounded sincere and left him momentarily lost for words.

  ‘It’s forgotten, Gina. I stopped holding it against you years ago.’

  Her head came up. ‘You have no idea how ironic that is.’

  ‘Yeah? Why?’

  ‘You were the wronged party and you didn’t hold a grudge. And yet I held one against you for years.’

  ‘Why did you?’ he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him. He never had understood why she’d found it so hard to move on.

  ‘It’s fairly simple, Mac. And I believe I did tell you at the time. I was desperately in love with you. And I was angry that you refused to even try to love me back.’

  He shoved a hand in his pocket, her wistful tone threatening to ruin his mood. He wasn’t taking the blame for this. Not any more.

  Juno spotted the stunningly beautiful woman with Mac through the terrace doors as soon as she came out of the restroom. Gina St Clair. The supermodel Juanita had mentioned. One of his many conquests.

  Who cares if she’s gorgeous? It’s you he’s with tonight.

  She repeated the mantra in her head as she made her way through the restaurant’s private dining room, trying not to notice how breathtaking the pair of them looked together. Mac debonair and imposing in the dark tailored tuxedo next to Gina, a vision of style and elegance in sky-blue silk. How tall was the woman anyway? At least six feet in her heels if she could look Mac in the eye. And those boobs, what kind of hooker underwear did she have on to make them look so full and perky? It wasn’t fair.

  She was so busy obsessing over Gina’s many assets she didn’t take any notice of their body language until she’d stepped out onto the terrace. She stopped dead as Mac thrust a hand into his trouser pocket and angled his body towards Gina, the animated stance suggesting an intimate conversation.

  She hadn’t planned to eavesdrop. But she couldn’t deny the whisper of jealousy.

  Was there still something between them?

  As Mac’s voice carried to her over the tinkle of glasses and conversation she stepped behind a large oleander that sheltered her from view, and listened to every word.

  ‘You weren’t
in love with me, Gina. You just liked the idea. We looked good together and the sex was pretty good too. But that’s all it was.’ He sounded irritated and bored.

  ‘I did love you. And you ended up breaking my heart.’ The supermodel’s voice quivered as if she was fighting off tears, but Mac didn’t seem to care.

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Gina, there’s no such thing as love,’ he replied, the flat tone reminding Juno of when he’d spoken to Connor and Daisy at the wedding—of when he’d warned her not to get involved with him. ‘Haven’t you figured that out yet? And even if there were, it’s not something I’m interested in giving—or receiving. And I believe I told you that at the time. So if your heart got broken, it was your own fault.’

  He said the words without inflection, the complete lack of emotion stunning Juno.

  She didn’t have to be jealous of Gina; he had no feelings for her. But had he ever had feelings for anyone?

  Where was the man who had comforted her so tenderly? Who had confided in her? Who had talked with such candour about his work? And made love to her with such passion? Where was the man who she thought had needed her?

  Had that man been real? Or was he just another of the roles Mac was so good at playing?

  Juno didn’t hear Gina’s goodbye, the woman’s voice drowned out by the thudding in her ears of her own pulse. Panic closed around her throat as she realised two devastating truths in the space of one single heartbeat.

  She’d made the same stupid mistake as Gina. She’d fallen hopelessly in love with Mac Brody.

  And it would be her own stupid fault if he broke her heart too. Because she still had no idea who he really was. Or whether he was even capable of loving her back.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘WHY don’t you tell me what’s going on?’ Mac shouted into the en suite bathroom. ‘Because I’m getting tired of the silent treatment.’

  He flung his tuxedo jacket onto the bed, flipped out his cufflinks and waited for a reply. His optimism of less than an hour ago well and truly squashed flat.

  Women!

  First off, there had been Gina, waylaying him at the party, making him talk about stuff he had no desire talking about and tarnishing the happy glow from his earlier conversation with Juno.

  Then Juno herself had got back from the restroom looking pale as a ghost and refusing to meet his eyes—and his mood had hit the skids completely.

  He’d done his best to ignore the problem during the limo ride to the Beverly Hills heliport. Hoping that if he said nothing she’d snap out of it. He’d had enough ‘deep and meaningful’ conversations to last him a lifetime today and he wasn’t raring to have another.

  But she hadn’t snapped out of it.

  So he’d clamped down on his apprehension and tried twice to bring it up on the helicopter ride home. Only to have her give him the brush-off—and then shoot off to hide in the bathroom as soon as they got through the front door.

  He dragged the shirt over his head, balled it up and chucked it at the laundry basket, ignoring the tightness in his chest. The white rattan pitched precariously.

  ‘You might as well tell me because I’m not staying out here all night.’

  More silence greeted him. Had she gone deaf or something?

  Damn it, he’d had plans for this evening. And they hadn’t involved showering alone.

  Still no reply. He kicked off his loafers. He was fast leaving concerned and perplexed behind and working his way up to annoyed.

  Dropping his trousers and dumping them in the basket, he walked into the bathroom in his boxers. And caught her frozen by the shower cubicle, naked, her eyes wide and her clothes neatly stacked on the vanity unit.

  The tightness began to ease as he devoured her slim, compact frame, the curve of her bottom and the small but perfect breasts with the large rosy nipples. The blood drained from his head and pumped straight into his groin.

  ‘Do you mind?’ She whipped a towel off the rail like a schoolgirl, and covered up all the delicious pink flesh. ‘I’m having a shower.’

  Right, that was just plain wrong.

  ‘Well, now, it looks like you’ve got company,’ he said, forcing a lazy grin as he padded across the tiles. Whatever had got into her, they could deal with it later.

  He’d seen the way her nipples had drawn into hard points as soon as she’d spotted him.

  It was way past time they got back to basics.

  Juno tensed, the melting sensation making her knees shake as she stared at the sculpted planes of Mac’s naked chest. Then her gaze hit the impressive bulge in his boxer shorts and the melting sensation went molten.

  How could he still have this all-consuming effect on her? All he had to do was look at her, with that knowledge, that purpose in his eyes and she got moist?

  She couldn’t make love to him now, not when her emotions were all over the place. It would be suicidal.

  All the way home, she’d tried to focus on what to do, how to deal with the terrifying discovery that she’d fallen in love with him. How to simplify things again and get her practical step-by-step plan back on track. But the subtle scent of his aftershave, the feel of his thigh pressed against hers in the helicopter, had drained her of all her common sense. And she was beginning to see that that had always been the case. Every single one of the decisions she’d made had been influenced by his overpowering effect on her.

  She’d kidded herself into believing she was being sensible, rational, when in reality she’d been exactly the opposite. She’d let her inner nymphomaniac loose as Daisy had suggested, and now it had taken complete control of her faculties. She had to try to be practical now. But how could she when her hormones refused to co-operate?

  Her fingers fisted on the towel, her back bumping against the glass brick wall of the shower cubicle as he rested his hand above her head. He was standing so close she could see the tiny flecks of grey in his irises.

  ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to shower on my own,’ she said, the words strained and breathless.

  His palm settled on the side of her neck, making her jump. ‘But I do mind,’ he said as his thumb glided under her chin, touching the sensitive skin like a firebrand.

  She gulped down a staggered breath, felt the long, liquid tug low in her belly. ‘Please, Mac, this isn’t a good time.’ She couldn’t think with his body so close, his scent surrounding her.

  He lowered his head, his eyes still fixed on her face. ‘So tell me to stop, then.’

  The words stuck in her throat as he tugged the towel loose from her numbed fingers and dropped it at her feet.

  His mouth covered hers as his hot body pushed her back against the cubicle wall. His chest hair abraded distended nipples and the thick evidence of his desire branded her through the thin covering of cotton as he hauled her against him with one arm.

  She bucked as cold water flickered against her side. He’d turned on the shower.

  He lifted his head, his lips quirking, determination and arousal darkening his eyes to a rich cobalt. ‘Who says guys can’t multitask?’

  And with that he grasped her waist and lifted her easily into his arms.

  ‘Hold on,’ he murmured as his hands gripped her bottom, spreading her thighs wide to accommodate him.

  She clung to his neck, her senses rioting as he stepped into the deluge with her wrapped around him. Cool water sluiced down her body, and fire throbbed at her core.

  She struggled, trying to free her limbs and her mind from the drugging passion, the brutal arousal. But then her back thudded against the cubicle wall, trapping her against him and the thick, relentless pressure between her legs.

  ‘Don’t ever tell me you don’t want me.’ The light, easy tone had vanished to be replaced by a low insistent demand.

  Her hands clutched his shoulders, the broad, muscled sinews bunching beneath her fingers as she tried to find the will to push him back, to hold on to her sanity.

  But then he bent his head and pressed his lips to her neck. H
er head fell back, like a flower whose stalk had been snapped at the stem, and her breath struggled out in staggered pants as she surrendered to the inevitable. His teeth and tongue assaulted her senses, sucking and nipping at the pulse point as desire gushed from her core.

  ‘I want you now—are you ready for me?’ he demanded.

  She nodded, dazed and desperate.

  He pulled back for barely a moment, swore under his breath and then the thick head of his erection pushed at the swollen folds. She sobbed, the intrusion remorseless, the whirlpool spiralling out of control as he adjusted her hips and thrust heavily into her.

  Fully impaled, she moaned, arousal dimming with the sudden rush of fear.

  She couldn’t do this. She would lose herself for ever. But she couldn’t focus, her senses spinning as all her attention riveted on the intense pleasure.

  She hid her face in his throat as his fingers dug onto her hips, adjusting her into position as he began to move. She gasped at the merciless penetration, then he butted that place deep inside, forcing her to climax in a savage rush. Caught in a ferocious undertow, the pleasure faded only to surge back to life, pummelling her as his slow strokes got harder, and faster and more ruthless.

  She arched back as he exploded into her on an angry shout and she surrendered to the final furious wave of orgasm.

  ‘Damn it.’

  Mac’s muttered curse pierced Juno’s shattered mind.

  Her senses sharpened as he lifted her off him. She stood on limp legs, confused and shaky, as he stormed out of the cubicle.

  What had just happened?

  The water splashed her shins as she watched him through the foggy glass. He still had on the drenched boxer shorts, clinging to his buttocks. He braced his arms on the vanity unit, and sank his head down, his shoulders rigid, his stance stiff with tension.

  Vulnerability clawed at her. She rubbed her chest with the heel of her hand, her lungs feeling as if they were being ripped out.