Romance: The Playboy (The Hot Aussie Heroes series Book 3)

by Madeline Ash

  The house he’d sold immediately. Too big, too quiet. Far too lonely. An empty home of any size could be lonely, but his footsteps had sounded particularly singular, echoing off the high ceilings. So he’d downsized, seeking modesty – though Josh maintained that the two-storey, swimming pool-embedded ‘shack’ still fell on the un side of necessary. Still south of town, still with a private track leading to the beach. Parker supposed Josh had a point.

  The night pressed against the windows as he stripped off his shirt and tossed it onto the table. With a few taps on his phone, he set music playing in the lounge. Music to mask the silence. Then he boiled the kettle, swept that morning’s sand trail off the kitchen tiles, and did everything he could to forget how dangerous the distance between him and Alexia had felt at the bar.

  As tea brewed, he put food in the cat’s bowl. It confused him, having a cat. After moving house, he’d collected one from the local shelter. Thought he could use the company and she could use a home, even though he hadn’t known whether he even liked cats. He still didn’t know, but he certainly didn’t fancy this one. He called her Snark, a name she clearly acknowledged as her summons, for she never ignored him more intensely than when he used it.

  Probably mistreated as a kitten, she was antisocial and moody. It seemed apt that he should look after a creature that thought only of herself. He’d been a creature like that once, and now he was getting a taste.

  “Snark,” he said loudly, banging the spoon against the edge of her bowl. “Dinner.”

  Wherever she was, he’d bet she curled up a little tighter.

  Tea in hand, Parker opened the folding doors between the lounge and deck. Similar doors made up the fourth wall in his upstairs bedroom. He paced, singing to the music under his breath, until the mug was empty and the album over. Then he sighed, cursed, and opened his thoughts to the inevitable.

  Alexia. Waiting for Josh, he’d spotted her. Bundling up her hair only served to grant full view of her figure. He couldn’t blame that dress for how tightly it clung to her body, nor the man she’d been chatting with for shifting closer. She’d flirted back, laughing, hand splayed on her breasts.

  So she was single in LA.

  He shouldn’t have reached that conclusion. He shouldn’t have cared that much. Just as he shouldn’t have cared that Alexia’s friend had tugged her towards the bathroom before the guy could make a move, or that Alexia had settled in a booth afterwards instead of returning to the man’s side.

  Yet he did care.

  If he ended up by her side again, he didn’t want another stilted conversation. Two in one day had been painful enough. One more and she’d bolt at the sight of him, and, right or wrong, he didn’t want that. Definitely wrong, because he’d once given her far too good a reason to bolt from him. He had no right to desire her company. Even less right to crave her body.

  But his actions had rarely been right.

  He remembered how frustrated he’d been with her as a teen. Bold and unawed, she flicked him aside with her quick remarks. No one else had challenged him like that. Interested him. Intrigued him, because for all her indifference he’d made her blush just by looking at her.

  He’d liked that. Not as an ego stroke, but something deeper. Her reaction to him mattered.

  In hindsight, Parker could pinpoint his frustration. He’d wanted to matter to her in return. So he’d tried to make himself matter in the only way he knew how, and she’d rejected him.

  Now she was back and he still made her blush. He still liked it.

  And he still wanted to matter to her.

  Which meant he needed something, anything, to talk about next time they met. In the lounge he booted up his laptop. Then he searched Alexia Burton’s actor profile.

  She’d started her career with extra parts and a few supporting roles in B-grade films that went straight to DVD. Not enough experience to explain being cast as Emma in Born Tomorrow, but perhaps the producer hadn’t expected success. She’d been in a few teen films in the meantime, romance stories that didn’t interest him. Regardless, she’d done well for herself and all from nothing.

  His appreciation of her strengthened. He couldn’t fathom the tenacity and talent required to succeed without connections. Her success put his to shame. He could remark on that to her… except she didn’t like talking about herself.

  Born Tomorrow, then. She’d know it inside-out. Parker could handle an hour of lame television for the sake of maintaining a conversation. He found the trailer for season one and hit play, expecting a sitcom set in high school or some kind of family drama.

  Not even close.

  It was either a dystopian future or an alternative dimension. He saw flashes of the dark cityscape of Los Angeles, cyberpunk clothing, and spaceships. Grime, robots, and weapons. A group of youths involved in a political uprising and the promise of cynical one-liners, plot twists and explosions. Parker stopped paying attention when Alexia darted across the screen in black leather and synthetic dreadlocks.

  Three minutes later, he was streaming the first season with a packet of chips and the full intention of a marathon.

  Chapter Three

  ‡

  Spots lit the back of Alexia’s eyelids. Salty air filled her lungs on each breath, a smell that still calmed her after twenty-three years. Heat seeped through her skin like a reassuring touch, and the white noise of the waves washed into the voices of the people around her.

  Day three of the trip and she’d started it yet again with a surf and breakfast with Dee. Her friend swore she was going to watch Alexia surf any day now, but she was holding out for a morning that started later and came with coffee.

  “You look busy.”

  Alexia cracked her eyes open. Dee was standing above her, rocking the vintage one-piece swimsuit she’d unearthed in an op-shop the day before. Alexia closed her eyes again. “I’m on the hunt.”

  “Right.” A short, quick gust of air signalled Dee laying her towel beside her. “Forgive my ignorance, but shouldn’t hunting involve more action?”

  “I’m taking subtle action by looking relaxed and approachable.”

  “Pity you actually look asleep.”

  Alexia pushed up onto her elbows, looking down her body towards the water. The curling whites of the waves glittered as starkly as her pale skin, and after digging blindly through her bag, she shoved on her sunglasses. Then she looked over at her friend. “Better?”

  “Yes. Slightly elevating your head and shoulders will result in all the men at your feet.”

  Smiling and sighing simultaneously, she sat up and picked up her bottle of sunscreen to reapply. The summer sun shone ruthlessly in this corner of the world. “I can’t approach strangers on the beach. People come here to relax. Not to get picked up.”

  “Then aim for the ones that look spontaneous.”

  Stuffing the bottle back in her bag, Alexia glanced along the shore. Busy, almost intolerably so at this time of year. Couples, families with kids, and groups of teens. She discerned a smattering of individuals, some just dark figures in the distance that could well be decent, respectful men from anywhere but LA.

  Apprehension pushed into her chest, unwelcome and unapologetic. At least Dee had Alexia’s end goal in mind – a goal she couldn’t afford to keep avoiding. “Okay,” she said quietly. “You’re right.”

  They’d visited a different venue last night. A fresh start that had seen Alexia chatting with many a handsome stranger – and being swept away by Dee as many times.

  “If it helps, I’m not going to watch you,” Dee said, settling belly-down on her towel. “So give the rescue signal to your heart’s content, but this knight’s getting a tan.”

  Alexia pulled her hat on and figured a walk along the beach couldn’t hurt. She set off, making eye contact with several young men, but feeling too desperate to deepen the contact by approaching. Desperation skewed judgement and lowered standards. Her stomach churned as she imagined fumbling for her clothes while tearful with reg
ret.

  No. She would only go to bed with a man if it felt right. What that could mean for her career, she didn’t dare consider.

  Her walk took her to the lighthouse that manned Cape Byron, the easternmost point of her home country. By the time she returned, Dee was on her back, hat over her face.

  Her words came muffled through the brim. “Any luck?”

  “I found a pretty shell.”

  “Alexia.”

  She deserved that stern tone. The practical, career-oriented part of her mind had been using it on her for days. Now it was bickering with the hard-nosed guardian of her heart.

  Sighing, she lay on her stomach facing the water, chin in her hands, elbows sinking into the towel. “No luck.”

  “Alexia. You won’t be cast as Dani by dreaming about it.”

  “I know.” She didn’t tend towards passivity, especially in relation to acting. She’d learnt to skydive for her role in Born Tomorrow, despite her anxiety about heights. She’d eaten eggs until she could do it without visibly retching. If she had to do something, she did it.

  But this means to an end was personal. Sex shouldn’t be something she did in order to achieve something else.

  “I just don’t—” She halted, attention stolen by the blond angel approaching across the sand. Seemingly heading towards Lullabar, not far from where she lay. Alexia tugged her hat lower, consciously hoping he wouldn’t see her, but instinctively praying he would with every skip of her pulse.

  He’d been keeping her awake. Waiting behind her eyelids, he’d swagger into view as she lay in bed each night. True to the man himself, the Parker in her mind liked to tease, stripping his shirt and encouraging her to trace the plaited leather of his neckband. She’d be close, fingers straying to the golden skin of his neck, before he’d murmur something like, “You know you want me,” and she’d roll over, infuriated with herself, because yes, she did know that, but she also knew she didn’t want to want him and hated that wasn’t enough to keep him out of her head.

  Breaking off mid-sentence had caught Dee’s attention. She plucked the hat off her face and spotted Parker.

  In a flash she sat up, arm held high. “Parker!”

  His gaze jumped to her, then moved to Alexia. His smile scooped right through her stomach.

  “Seriously, Dee,” was all Alexia could manage before he was within earshot.

  He carried a tablet loose in his fingers. A modern working man, minus the shoes. Long bare feet dug into the sand, grains pushing up between his toes. Approval snaked through her, a reaction born of growing up beside the sea, loving texture beneath her feet and appreciating that he did, too. His business wear of choice was shorts and a faded green Lullabyron tee.

  “Enjoying the sun?” He stopped a few feet from Dee’s towel. It put him side-on, much to Alexia’s relief, as it meant he wasn’t looking directly towards her cleavage. Still, she sank a little lower onto her towel.

  “Yes.” Dee twisted and sat up. “So much so, I think I need a soda,” she said, and promptly abandoned Alexia for the bar.

  Parker stared after her. “She’s unpredictable.”

  “You have no idea,” Alexia agreed, and they met eyes.

  He held her stare and her next heartbeat failed. “Does she know about me?”

  “She knows about us, yes.”

  “Yet she left you alone with me.”

  Because she’s shameless and wants us to hook up. Alexia rephrased that thought into, “She’s the forgiving type.”

  He hooked a thumb through the waistband of his shorts. His gaze was sombre. “And you?”

  Smiling dryly, she said, “Twice shy, but magnanimous.”

  Disappointment flicked down the corners of his mouth. Then his ego seemed to pull them back up as he nodded. “I am a worthy cause.”

  “Is that why Josh hangs out with you?”

  A seagull flapped over Parker’s head and he gave it a distracted glance. “I thought it was because I hired him as bar manager and let his band use the stage for rehearsals.”

  She smiled, not buying it. They were decent reasons for a professional relationship, sure, but Josh had treated him too comfortably for them not to be friends in their own right. She struggled to believe that Parker had really changed. Yes, she believed his apology. He was sorry and she didn’t think he still backed women against walls. But she couldn’t believe he’d grown enough to make him tolerable.

  His friendship with Josh was the only crack in that conviction.

  “Anyway,” she said, implying the conversation was finished.

  Parker didn’t move. “I watched season one of Born Tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” She blinked, startled. “All sixteen epis – did you – why?”

  “I was curious.”

  “The trailer could have taken care of that.”

  “My curiosity can be difficult to satisfy.” Those words were delivered to her bare back as his gaze slipped. She still lay on her stomach, and his vantage point made her keenly aware of her bikini, specifically the part that left a decent third of her bottom on display. She watched Parker become intently aware of that third too, before he ran a thumb along his jaw and fastened his gaze on hers. Alexia didn’t need sex in her past to read the look in his eye.

  She was another of his unsatisfied curiosities. Lust lurched to life between her thighs and her mouth dried when his gaze flicked to her bare back again.

  “Hang on,” she said, desperate to break the silence and this tension along with it. Parker hadn’t even known about Born Tomorrow the other night. “You’ve watched sixteen hours of television in two days?”

  “Two nights,” he corrected, smiling wryly. “It might surprise you to learn that I spend my days working.”

  “I’m reeling from the shock.”

  “And I’m suffering exhaustion and am still unsatisfied.”

  Alexia smiled, a little wickedly. It was one of those shows that clamped viewers to the edge of their seats and then abandoned them to angst afterwards. Not easy to watch, but impossible not to.

  “You’re good.” He spoke it as a fact. “Really good.”

  “Oh.” She looked away, pretending to free a few strands of hair caught in the hinge of her sunglasses. That show had been the core of her existence for the past few years. Her passion and drive. It was strangely gratifying that Parker had sought it out and flattering that he’d liked it. “Thanks.”

  He passed the tablet to his other hand. “How many seasons?”

  “Four.”

  “So few. Including the one you’ve recently finished filming?”

  Alexia looked back up, recognising the desperation of a fan. “It all ends with season four.”

  He bowed his head, clasping the tablet to his chest.

  She couldn’t help it. She laughed.

  His head lifted, green gaze sparkling. “How does it end?”

  She raked her fingers through the sand. “His wife’s wedding band rolls across the floor and he realises he’s been dead the whole time.”

  His lips quirked. “You’re not going to tell me.”

  “Nope.”

  “Hundred bucks.”

  Mocking insult, she asked, “How cheap a bribe do you take me for?”

  “Ten grand.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please.”

  He paused. “Surfing lessons.”

  “Hey!” Indignant, she suppressed another laugh. “I’m doing okay.”

  Grinning, he broke the distance safety barrier by stepping closer and raising the beach umbrella beside her. The shade was useless against the heat of the day, but deflected the sun’s bite. “Thank you,” she said, sighing.

  “No problem.” Then he made himself at home on Dee’s towel, sitting with an arm hooked around his knee, facing the water.

  She arched a brow at him. “Comfortable?”

  “Yeah.” Deliberately ignoring the hint. “How’s your research going?”

  She hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “Kind
of at a standstill.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Because she’d been naïve in hoping for something special. “I’m psyching myself up.”

  “Because you have to…?”

  Alexia pressed her lips together and gave him a flat look.

  “Okay,” he said, and was silent for a while. They watched the activity on the beach, Alexia too aware of him by her side. A female couple walked passed, pausing to greet Parker and praise him for actually taking a break. As they continued on their way, he swivelled and reclined onto his back. His head was in line with hers as he looked across.

  Then his eyes shifted to the side of her face. A crease formed between his brows. “Oh. Don’t move.”

  Alexia froze. “Spider or bug?”

  “Tiny spider.”

  Parker rolled towards her, propped up on an elbow. His large fingers reached over, sliding into the hair by her cheek. She held her breath, watching his eyes narrow and feeling the rough brush of his knuckle against her skin. “Come here,” he coaxed quietly, and she almost leaned into him. The base of his thumb rested on her jaw, warm and light, and her cheek ached to be cradled in his palm. She swallowed and for a heart-thumping moment, his gaze strayed to her mouth. His hand stilled. His own lips parted. Then he was focussed on the spider again, grasping a few strands of her hair and twisting.

  He withdrew, leaving her cheek tingling. A pepper fleck of a spider ran along his index finger. He lowered it to Dee’s towel and then reclined onto his back once more.

  That made one of them relaxed.

  Pulse still up, Alexia swept a glance over his body. All hard, hot man. Too easily could she tuck against his side, raise a leg over his hips. His arm might come around her, fingertips toying with the strings of her bikini. It shook her how badly she wanted to try, just to see what he’d do.

  He’d probably be expecting it.

  Eyes closed, Parker said casually, “So your research has got to be something illegal, embarrassing, or sex related.”

  Alexia’s gut dropped, hauling her moment of desire down with it. She stared at him.

  He glanced at her, then closed his eyes again. “Knew it.”