by Nicola Marsh
She should know better by now. From the moment he’d found her squatting in his shed Hector had never been anything but gallant and caring and trusting. A saviour in every sense of the word: giving her a place to live, a part-time education including gaining her high-school certificate and, later, a job in his company.
She’d made something of herself thanks to Hector. She owed it all to him so why was she edgy now?
‘You answering that?’
Luca glanced up from the newspaper—the business section, not sports—and there went another preconception.
She poked her tongue out at him, grabbed the phone and edged out onto the tiny balcony of their new accommodation.
She hadn’t believed it when their booking in Bendigo had also experienced some catastrophic natural disaster—namely a ruptured sewer line—and she’d been forced to apartment share with Luca. Again.
She didn’t believe in fate or anything remotely like it but if she didn’t know any better Cupid, or whatever contrary god had bows and arrows, was having a belly laugh at her expense.
Taking a deep breath to quell the niggle of anxiety in her gut, she pressed the answer button on her phone.
‘Hi, Hector, how are you?’
‘Fine. How’s the tour coming along?’
His booming voice sounded the same as usual and she exhaled in relief.
‘Great. The concert in Ballarat was a sellout and Storm’s behaving …’ she omitted the part where she had to drag Storm out of the wine bar before he assaulted a groupie and her guy’ … and I’ve checked out the local attractions in Bendigo for Tiger, plus we’re all set for the concert here tomorrow tonight.’
‘By your use of we, I take it things are going well with Luca?’
The hint of concern beneath Hector’s usual joviality surprised her. What did he expect, for her to boot his grandson off the tour?
‘He’s tolerable.’
Luca rattled his newspaper and Hector guffawed.
‘You’re a true professional, Charli. There’ll be a bonus in this for you if you manage not to kill him by the end of the tour.’
‘How much not to kill him by Sunday?’
Her sickly sweet smile raised Luca’s eyebrows as he folded the newspaper shut and beckoned for the phone.
Hector chuckled. ‘We’ll work something out when you get back. Any chance I can speak to him?’
‘He’s all yours.’
She handed the phone over to Luca and fiddled with her notebook, trying not to eavesdrop on their conversation. Not that she could divulge much from Luca’s uh-huhs.
Curious, she dropped onto the sofa and watched him, fascinated by his interaction with Hector.
Their conversation seemed stilted, awkward, and for a guy so at ease teasing her none of his usual warmth and wit came through when talking to his grandfather.
In fact, he sounded like the employees who tiptoed around Hector, treating him like the mogul of the Aussie music scene he was, distantly polite, slightly wooden for fear of saying the wrong thing.
Luca’s stiff, artificial conversation with Hector went a long way to explaining why she’d never met him before. They weren’t close, which begged the question: why come to Hector’s aid now?
He hung up and handed the phone back to her.
‘He threatened to take away my allowance if I didn’t take good care of you.’
‘You get an allowance?’
‘Nah, but that’s what it felt like. Like I was a kid and he was telling me to do it or else.’
‘I can take care of myself.’
An image of her clinging to him last night flashed into her mind, how safe he’d made her feel, making a mockery of her declaration.
He was thinking the same thing, she could see it in the flare of understanding in his eyes but, wisely, he didn’t bring it up.
‘Hector’s pleased with your work? ‘
Caution crept into his eyes, shadowing them.
‘Yeah, no worries on that front.’
‘How come I’ve never met you before?’ she blurted, instantly regretting her outburst when he frowned and folded his arms.
Classic back-off posture but it was too late, her curiosity had prompted her to run off at the mouth.
‘Melbourne never held much appeal even when I lived here.’
‘Oh,’ she muttered, suitably chastised but still not convinced.
Ten years was a hell of a long time for someone to stay away from their home city. Not that she couldn’t empathise. Considering her past, she could’ve quite happily fled Melbourne and not looked back if it weren’t for Hector rescuing her.
His frown cleared as he stepped towards her and ran a fingertip down her bare arm.
‘Why? You regretting the fact we haven’t met before now?’
Ducking down, he murmured in her ear, ‘I know I am.’
Her forced laugh sounded brittle as she shoved him away, needing distance to prevent herself from falling into his arms the way she had last night.
‘Save it. I’ve got work to do.’
He didn’t budge. ‘How much longer?’
‘Another two hours at least.’
‘Fine. Then we’re going on a date.’
Her heart leaped for joy while her inner independent chick bristled at his commanding order.
‘Maybe if you asked nicely you might have more than a snowball’s chance in hell of me agreeing to a date with you.’
‘Oh, you’ll agree.’
To prove it, his lips brushed the tender skin behind her ear, a barely there butterfly kiss that sent a shudder of longing through her.
‘You play dirty,’ she muttered, all signs of resistance fleeing in the face of his heavy-duty flirting.
This time, he kissed her just shy of her mouth, his lips lingering as he murmured, ‘You have no idea how dirty I can play but I’m hoping you’ll soon find out.’
On a heartfelt sigh, she whirled away and headed off to finish up work for the day.
Her body throbbed with expectation, his low chuckles strumming her nerves.
Hold him at bay?
Not a hope in hell.
Luca had mucked up. He needed to establish some distance from Charli. Not in the physical sense. Oh, no, physically, he’d like to get up close and personal, the sooner the better. Emotionally? She had him ready to bolt and not look back.
Last night had been bad enough, making him feel sorry for her, making him feel helpless against her inner demons, making him feel period. Then today, after chatting with Hector, she’d stared at him with those all-seeing green eyes, probing for answers he had no intention of giving, and he’d blurted the first thing that popped into his head.
He’d asked her on a date.
He’d been so disarmed by her ability to get under his skin he hadn’t been thinking straight and the instant the offer had tripped from his lips he’d wanted to take it back.
But he’d seen the spark of interest in her expressive eyes, the glitter of excitement, and he’d been stuck. Taking her on a date was not a way to maintain emotional distance so he’d focused on what he did best: flirt, woo, keep things casual.
So far, it had worked like a charm. With Storm and his entourage taking the afternoon off after an intense rehearsal this morning, they’d toured the local art galleries, strolled through the historic district, walked around Lake Weeroona and were now ensconced in the Hotel Shamrock.
‘This is a grand old pub,’ she said, her eyes sparkling with pleasure as she glanced around at the rich wood panelling, the gleaming brass fittings, the polished oak furniture.
Sure, the place was nice but he’d much rather stare at the beautiful woman sitting opposite, a faint flush making her cheeks glow, her eyes sparkling like emeralds.
Her tight-fitting pink jumper accentuated her curves and his hands itched to roam all over her, to complete what they’d started last night. For while his misplaced gallantry had kicked in and prevented him from taking it all the way as he crav
ed, he hadn’t forgotten how she’d felt. Soft, warm and incredibly lush.
He shifted in his chair and refocused when she raised an eyebrow in his direction.
‘Some date. You aren’t even listening to me.’
‘I’m listening.
His hand snaked across the table and snagged hers. ‘Yeah, the pub is impressive but I’d rather watch you.’
Her glossed lips softened into a smile that lit her face.
‘Do those lines usually work for you?’
‘You tell me.’
She laughed and he lifted her hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on her palm and wrapping her fingers around it. A little shiver rippled through her and her lips parted on a surprised O.
He loved that about her, how responsive she was. That kiss last night … He couldn’t stop thinking about it, how she’d come alive in his arms, the sexy sounds she’d made.
They’d have a repeat, he had no doubt but next time they’d be taking it all the way.
She eased her hand out of his, a coy smile curving her lips.
‘By that look in your eye, you’re expecting this to be a full-service date.’
‘I’m not expecting anything.’
And he wasn’t. He wanted this date to be fun, to distract him from how much he was growing to like being with her. As for sex … Yeah, he wanted her but there was no ulterior motive.
She continued studying him with a shrewd stare. ‘I’m good at reading people and from where I’m sitting you look like a guy with one thing on his mind.’
Damn, she was good.
‘Two things, actually. And here comes one of them right now,’ he said.
A waiter brought their steak dinners at that moment, took one look at their ga-ga expressions and scuttled away.
Smiling, she picked up her cutlery. ‘What’s the other thing?’
Enjoying her sassy side, he lowered his voice to just above a whisper.
‘Dessert.’
She blushed and stabbed her fork in his direction. ‘You’re good.’
He opened his mouth to respond but she butted in, ‘But I’m better. And while this date has been fabulous and I think you’re charming and we share a spark, I can’t help but feel you’re doing this to distract me.’
Impressed by her intuition, he pushed his plate away, sat back and folded his arms.
‘From?’
‘Getting to the bottom of why you’re really here.’
She stabbed a honeyed carrot, popped it in her mouth and chewed, giving him time to process what she’d said.
How did she do that, see right through him? Though he should be thankful; at least she hadn’t cottoned onto the real motivation behind this date, creating emotional distance, ensuring she didn’t get too close.
‘You really think I’ve got some ulterior motive?’
She pinned him with a stare that would make a lesser man quiver in his boots.
‘Have you?’
He didn’t like the fact she doubted his motives for helping Pop, didn’t like it at all, for somewhere during the past few days he’d grown to value her opinion. It mattered to him what she thought and it shouldn’t, damn it.
Fostering his footloose, fancy-free image took work and it suited him just fine. Being back in Melbourne should’ve been a mere blip on his life plan. Yet somehow the blip had turned into a massive blooper, courtesy of the gorgeous woman staring at him with suspicion in her moss eyes.
‘What do you want me to say? That I’m here to make a play for Pop’s fortune? Because if that’s what you think …’
He bit back the rest, the old resentment splintering the immunity he’d built against the injustice of people who thought exactly that.
It was one of the reasons he’d run all those years ago, had hated the sly looks and pointed innuendos. He’d thought he was immune to it now, had built up a hard shell the past ten years, yet having Charli imply the same disgusting motivation for him being back in Pop’s life stung. More than it should. And that was what scared the crap out of him. That it was too late to establish emotional distance from her, that he already cared too much what she thought of him.
‘Luca, look at me.’
He dragged his reluctant gaze from his plate, defiantly met hers.
‘Sorry, I was way out of line pushing you like that. Guess I’ve worked for Hector a long time, I’m overprotective and I don’t want him getting hurt.’
‘Something you think I’d do.’
He spat the words out, hated when she flinched.
‘No.’
She reached across the table, placed her small, elegant hand on his.
‘Questioning your relationship with Hector is none of my business. You’re here as a stand-in finance guy on this tour, the rest is your business.’
She squeezed his hand and slid hers back across the table. ‘Now that I’ve completely botched this date, why don’t we eat these fabulous meals and try and salvage something from the evening?’
‘Sounds good to me.’
But as they ate their steak and made polite small-talk, he knew the rest of his plans for the evening had just gone up in a cloud of mistrust, secrets and regret.
On a scale of one to ten absolute shocker dates, Charli had no idea how to rate her date with Luca.
After the constant go, go, go of the tour, it was lovely to have an afternoon off to do the touristy stuff. And dinner at the beautiful old Hotel Shamrock had been going so well until she’d botched it.
What on earth had possessed her to push him for answers about his presence here? Why couldn’t she just accept he was doing Hector a favour and be done with it?
Once she’d brought up his past and his relationship with Hector he’d clammed up. Where there’d been flirting and laughter before, after her interrogation there’d been excessive politeness and stilted small-talk.
She’d been embarrassed by her nightmare last night, by how freaked out she’d been, and in some warped mistaken idea had thought chatting about Hector and how much she cared for him might allay his fears she wasn’t a complete nutter.
Lame, but what could she do? Explain that his compassion and comforting when she’d needed it most had seriously disconcerted her? That she’d felt safe in his arms in a way she hadn’t in a long time?
Hector was the only person she remotely trusted these days and to think Luca had crept under her guard so easily was seriously disturbing.
She needed some space, had been hugely relieved when they’d made it back to the apartments only to find Storm and the band hanging out in the bar next door. On the pretext of checking up on their protégé she’d hoped to end the evening, making it back to their apartment after Luca was in bed.
Yet again he’d surprised her, suggesting they have a nightcap, and she couldn’t very well refuse considering she’d already said she was heading into the bar to suss out how Storm was doing.
‘Here you go.’
He handed her a lemon soda and slid into the circular booth next to her, too close for comfort, too close to ignore the buzz between them.
‘Thanks.’
She raised her glass, clinking against his beer. ‘To a brilliant tour Storm Varth fans will never forget.’
‘To a tour I’ll survive without strangling Storm Varth.’
She chuckled at his tortured expression as he jerked his head in the singer’s direction.
‘Though he seems to be behaving himself tonight.’
If he only knew. She hadn’t told him about the wine-bar incident, not deeming it relevant to his job but in reality wanting to keep the two apart.
Sure, Storm was an over-the-hill miva—her term for male divas—but he was part of her job. Luca, on the other hand, had low tolerance for their resident miva and, considering he was out of here at the end of the tour, she wouldn’t put it past him to threaten to settle scores after the tour.
‘He’s still got it for his age.’
Luca snorted. ‘Got what? Bad hair and too-tight p
ants?’
She smiled at his accurate description. ‘Showbiz pizazz.’
They watched Storm being tugged onto a makeshift stage by the bar’s owner, his fake reluctance instantly disappearing the second a microphone was thrust into his hand.
‘Look at him. He’s a natural.’
She ignored Luca’s muttered, ‘A natural jerk.’
‘Must be hard to maintain a public persona for thirty-odd years. I’d hate it.’
A tiny frown creased Luca’s brow as he studied her. ‘I thought you loved all this hype?’
‘I love the challenges of the job, the uniqueness guaranteed on a daily basis.’
She waved towards the stage where the band members had joined Storm. ‘But no way could I be like those guys, feeling like I have to constantly perform. It’d drive me mad.’
His frown disappeared as he sat back against the cushions and she had the distinct feeling she’d said the right thing without meaning to.
‘You’re one smart woman.’
He raised his beer in her direction before taking a long slug, leaving her to ponder this complex man.
‘Performing gets tiring after a while.’
He spoke so softly she wondered if she’d heard right but before she could question him further Storm and the band let rip with a golden oldie that raised the roof, leaving her to ponder Luca’s revelation while the few patrons dotting the local bar were in raptures over Storm’s impromptu jam session.
Luca appeared relaxed enough, his foot tapping in time to the music, his arm draped on the booth behind her, but there was an underlying tension about him, as if he regretted making that last comment.
He lived his entire life in the public eye. Was that what he meant, that his life felt like one constant performance? If so, she pitied him. Fame came at a price. She’d seen it many times over the years, rock stars burnt out or strung out, their lives under constant scrutiny, tabloid fodder no matter what they did.
She’d never thought of Luca having to live with the same pressures. When they’d first met she’d painted him as an idle playboy swanking from one end of the globe to another dabbling in charity work but he was so much more than that, had so many facets that she felt guilty for assuming so much.