Falling for Mr Wrong

by Joanne Dannon

  He pushed his hands into the pockets of his chinos. “He’s also a rising star in politics, there are whispers of him being a future Prime Minister.”

  “He’s a lying snake and if you vote him in, you deserve him.”

  “This is not America, we don’t vote in Presidents—”

  She dismissed his criticism with a flick of her wrist. “I don’t care that our countries have the same electoral democratic processes.”

  “Are you saying that as you’ve been spawned by Sebastian, you’re prepared to ruin his career?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Who are you?”

  “I’ll listen to your side of the story but all you’ve told me is how bad he is. It sounds like a lovers’ quarrel.” He said with a casual shrug that made her want to howl in anguish.

  Her finger pressed against his impressive chest. “Listen you double-barrelled-named pompous ass, I’m a good person.” She poked him again to prove her point. “I’d never have an affair with a married man. I was their nanny.” She drew in a deep breath. “Sebastian Porter was the one who couldn’t lie in bed straight. He’d attend the opening of a fridge door. If anyone can’t keep his pants on, it’s him.” She all but yelled. Darn him and his accusations. She had a gutful and bristled with resentment.

  His lips stretched to a wide grin. “Tilly, from Australia. I don’t know you that well, but I think I believe you.”

  Those three words were like a punch to her chest, her vision swam, her legs grew unsteady, and her breathing grew shallow. It did not take much effort before she collapsed back in her chair.

  Nate squatted beside her, concerned at the paleness of her skin. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” Tilly waved him away as she closed her eyes and leaned back into the comfort of the chair.

  “Can I get you a glass of water?”

  “No thanks.” She opened her eyes, grabbed her bag and withdrew a water bottle. A few sips restored the colour in her cheeks.

  His chest ached at the harshness of his questions. He had not meant to go in so strong but the reporter in him just could not be quashed and before he knew it, he was in his hard-push mode. The same mode he used when he could not get politicians to give him a straight answer. He owed her an apology, even if he wanted the story with a need that pulsated through his blood.

  His fingers gently massaged her hand and he ignored the pressure in his thighs from squatting for so long. “Feeling better?”

  “Yes. Thanks.”

  He assisted her to a standing position. “What happened?”

  “I’m so used to people believing Sebastian, over me, that you knocked me for six. Did you mean it or was it just words?” She glared at him.

  “You’re too honest and after everything you said, my gut tells me there’s more to you than what the press have said. Plus, I’ve met Sebastian and I agree with your description. Him unable to lie in bed. Brilliant. Him going to the opening of a fridge. Brilliant.”

  “You’ve met him?” Her eyebrow rose in interest.

  His jaw tightened at the slip. “Years ago. I had the misfortune of attending the same school as him. Despite smoking cigarettes and cheating at tests, he had a charm that had him talking his way out of everything.”

  “Sounds like him to a T,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

  “So if you didn’t have an affair, why didn’t you speak out?”

  Her hands fisted into balls. “I did, but no one listened. Besides, Sebastian and his smooth talking lawyer hid behind words claiming that I seduced him, I was at fault and he pushed me away. As if?” She rolled her eyes.

  He took note of Tilly’s facial expressions looking for obvious signs of lying.

  Not only was she looking directly at him, but her emotions matched what she was saying. When her voice faltered slightly, he caught her swallowing hard, as if ridding clogging emotions stuck in her throat.

  “I had no-one. The media circus attacked me like a pack of hungry hyenas devouring a dying prey.” Her lower lip trembling slightly.

  She was facing him, he noted, didn’t place barriers, like her large beach tote between them which could indicate she was lying.. Either she was an excellent actress or indeed, she was telling the truth.

  His molars clenched tighter in anticipation of the breaking news story he was going to write. Then his gut twisted as something washed across her face. She was hiding something. He had pegged her as innocent but there was definitely more to Tilly Walker, especially when she subconsciously turned to the side, away from him, giving him an expression a professional poker player would be impressed by.

  There was more. But what?

  His lips were locked in a dead straight line. “So what did you do?”

  She gulped a deep breath. “I was desperate. I trusted a reporter, Elizabeth Preston, and gave her the insights in the hope they’d leave me alone.”

  He knew Elizabeth and had read the article. Tilly had been scammed. The woman was a commentator who likes to shock. “Elizabeth Preston is a performer who thrives on being outrageous. Of late, she’s been making a living out of trashing younger women”.

  “How was I to know that?” She flung back with an intensity that would have hit the Richter scale. “I’m from Australia. I thought a woman and a mother in her thirties would understand.”

  Her voice lowered but anger tightened her jaw line. Her fists clenched tight. “I trusted her. I trusted Sebastian.” Throwing her hands up in pent up frustration, “But they showed they were only loyal to themselves. I was their means to an end.” Pain etched across her face, there was real hurt there.

  His jaw tightened as the realisation hit him of how easily Tilly had been taken advantage of. And he was doing the same thing to her as Elizabeth and Sebastian. An objectionable voice reminded him. No. Elizabeth Preston’s gutter tactics were reprehensible. He would never do that.

  He had waited long enough to expose Sebastian Porter and his holier-than-thou attitude. His time was up. Tilly was the key and she held the answers he needed.

  “There may be differences between Australia and England but we all believe in ‘innocent till proven guilty’. You were convicted by the media and not given a fair trial. No wonder you fled London.” How much better would she have handled the media with hindsight and media training? The Tilly standing in front of him was a far cry of the young woman he imagined she had been only a few weeks ago. This episode had been a cruel lesson to her. He doubted she would ever be so trusting again.

  “Did you at least speak to the editor, threaten legal action?”

  Her eyes widened before she started to laugh but not from joy. “Me threaten legal action?” Her lip curled in distaste. “The receptionist all but hung up on me. I can still recall her sniggers as she reminded me I was an Australian on a working holiday visa.”

  He nodded respectfully. “So what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to enjoy travelling for the time being.” Her evasive answer had his reporter radar going on high-alert. She was hiding something.

  “That’s good. I’ve convinced Bea she’s made a mistake.”

  “Thank you.” She stopped. “Summer? Why did you call me Summer?”

  He smiled. “You’re Australian. It’s hot. You’re wearing yellow. It fit.” He said with a shrug.

  “Got it,” she winked in return.

  Their shared laughter broke the heaviness between them.

  “It’s nice to know there is at least one person in the northern hemisphere who believes me.”

  You wouldn’t thank me if you knew I was after your story. “Look, if you have any more trouble with the media, give me a call.” He handed her an embossed business card with only his mobile number on it. “Or if you want to meet up again.” His left brow lifted. “We could have lunch tomorrow.”

  Their gazes met and he took a moment to admire her prettiness. She had that Aussie girl look that he was a sucker for. Toned, sun-kissed limbs and uncomplicated hair that had his hormones
fantasising about her early morning appearance. Even the light coloured freckles on her nose enhanced her beauty rather than detracting from it. So different from the immaculately groomed, career-women he usually dated. Dated? He was not dating her, he was after her story he sternly reminded his testosterone charged body.

  Being attracted to her was not part of the plan. He had to get away before he did something stupid, like kiss her. Kiss her? He wanted to do more than kiss her. He wanted to hear her cry out his name and make her forget everything. Swallowing away all inappropriate thoughts he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  He handed back the discarded newspaper. “I’ll let you get back to your super sleuth routine, just make sure the paper’s the right way up.”

  She smiled warmly and he found himself grinning back, goofy-like. God he was pathetic. A simple smile had turned him into a teenager with his first crush.

  He raked his fingers through his hair.

  He needed to leave.

  Now.

  There was little doubt in her mind Nate was in a hurry to get away from her.

  Tilly shook his hand. Her fingers tingled as their skin made contact. Her heart warmed. Why did he have this uncanny ability to make her feel safe, protected?

  “Good bye Tilly,” he all but whispered. His voice hoarse as though he had drunk a glass of water directly from the Dead Sea.

  The noise and voices from the lobby faded to a silent whisper. Her traitorous body remembered how good he looked clad in those sexy boxer-brief bathers. A step closer. Their breathing matched. Another step closer. Their bodies faced, almost touching.

  Despite the busy goings-on around them, Tilly could only see his face, yet his masculine scent was omnipresent, making her body zing in a way she had never felt before.

  He cleared his throat. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “It’s not.” But her words were in direct conflict with the longing pulsating through her body. Kiss me, please. Was it so wrong to want a kiss? After the hellish weeks she had had, being kissed would be the perfect reward and she certainly deserved it.

  Having been raised to be polite and compassionate, the brazen self-assuredness pumping through her veins was a novel experience. She had never been forward, never the one instigating matters. But not now. Now was the time for a change. Tugging him towards her and ignoring the rational voice they were in a public place, she pressed her lips against his. He did not resist and she did it again. Soft, warm and inviting.

  The citrusy scent of his aftershave invaded her nostrils. The brief touch of his mouth on hers sent electrodes of energy zipping up her arms and down her spine.

  His hands gently cupped her face, then he deepened the kiss. The thumpity-thump of her heart pulsated hard, filling her ears drowning out the noise from the holiday makers.

  Her eyes closed. A sigh escaped her lips.

  Bliss.

  If this was a kiss, what would happen in bed? Tilly shuddered in delight as an image of them naked, entwined under crisp white sheets burst into her head.

  His mouth moved gently across hers as his arms anchored her to him.

  With a hint of dry wine, he tasted of strength, honesty, dependability and all so male. Dear Heaven, she wanted more. Wanted him to let go and be unrestrained. Kiss me harder. Kiss me till I can’t stand.

  Her arms snaked around his waist and the feel of his hard, muscled body reminded her of his vigour and athletic build. His lips coaxed hers open before his teeth grazed her bottom lip. His warm mouth then pressed against hers, his arm anchoring her to him. She had been kissed before, but never like this. Nate took kissing to a new level. A dangerously new level.

  Wow. She was no longer the unfortunate, dutiful woman whose ex slept with her friend, but a confident woman who kissed a man she had just met, in public. Plus, she liked it. Having done something different, something new, she felt empowered as though she had found relics from the past.

  Closing her eyes, she relaxed. For just a moment she did not care about the media or Sebastian or anything. This was more than a kiss. It was them coming together. Their bodies fit like two pieces in a jig-saw.

  “Slicha.” Excuse me.

  What?! Tilly’s eyes widened and turned to face the interruption. Couldn’t they see she was busy?

  “Ehhh.” The concierge tapped her on the shoulder and pointed outside. “You’re about to miss your shuttle.”

  Nate pulled away and her tummy fell to her sandaled feet.

  Oh no. Her ride. “Th-thank you.” She flung a bewildered look to the concierge.

  The empowered superwoman feelings slid away as her gaze caught a couple of kids pointing at them and giggling.

  “I shouldn’t have…”

  Tilly raised her hand to stop him saying anything else. “Please don’t.” Please don’t apologise for the most amazing kiss I’ve ever had. She did not want to hear it was a mistake. She was not sorry. Kissing Nate was a dream, a wonderful, exciting, toe curling experience that had her wanting more. Much more.

  Focus was needed now. Focus would keep her safe. Focus had been her best friend, till now.

  Time to go.

  Her heart drooped.

  Scooping up her beach bag she said, “I-I’d better go. Thanks Nate, for everything.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “I have your number.” The expensive, embossed card was now securely stored in her purse but she was not sure if she would call.

  He gathered her close, “Tilly, you can trust me.”

  Unsure what to say, Tilly nodded, her throat clogged with a mixture of want, reluctance and misgiving.

  He leaned over and brushed his lips across her cheek. With his masculine scent deliciously filling her nostrils, her heart pleaded for her to call him tomorrow.

  “Bye.” Turning, she ran for the hotel entrance just making the mini-bus before it departed.

  What bad timing to meet someone so perfect. Not only good looking and able to kiss but interested in her.

  Tilly felt a flicker of hope. With her lips still tingling, she wondered if meeting Nate was a turning point after all she had been through. Perhaps things were going to get better.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Don’t you ever stop working? It’s nine in the morning and you’re supposed to be on holidays,” Bea remarked, leaning casually against the doorframe.

  “I’m busy,” Nate snarled at his sister before turning his attention to Ilan ben Shabbat, the resort’s IT specialist.

  Ilan was the lifeline he desperately needed. Hackers had gotten onto his precious blog and posted links to porn sites. Once he fixed it, he would go after those nutters. Whoever they were. This was his blog, his life, his work. What a shambles. They had managed to worm past his top rate firewall and security. His gut remained nauseatingly tight as they battled to fix the damage.

  Grateful did not come close to the appreciation he had for Ilan’s help. His musings on all things political needed to be published one hour and thirty seven minutes ago and all there was, was a variety of porn sites.

  Thank God for the two hour time difference between here and London, although he was sure he could hear his editor’s teeth grinding in frustration all the way from Fleet Street. And then there was Tilly. Another issue.

  He blew out a frustrated breath, “Bea, I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Are you seeing Summer again?”

  Who? His fingers stopped typing. Oh yeah, Tilly. Bea’s sing-song tone had him looking up. What now?

  “Maybe. I’m working with Ilan. Go and have a treatment or something.” He flicked his hand in a dismissive manner and turned his back to her.

  “Have you read today’s paper?” Something in her voice made him look up but she simply gave him a sickly, sweet smile.

  He ignored it, just as he had been ignoring the continuous beeps on his mobile phone. His daily routine was on hold till he fixed his blog. It would all have to w
ait. “For godsake, just go!” He pointed to the door.

  Bea muttered some choice words about her brother’s parentage before slamming the door behind her.

  Ilan chuckled and Nate scowled. He rubbed his hand across his unshaven jaw and stifled a yawn. After barely a few hours of sleep, he had risen early and hit the gym with a punishing run on the treadmill and an intense session of weights.

  A splinter of unease had pierced his lungs when Tilly had explained how she had trusted a journalist. Hiding his occupation from her was necessary for just a short time. Once he jig-sawed the parts, he would tell her everything.

  But it was not the guilt that had kept him up last night. No.

  For hours he had recalled the way she pressed her pliant body against his, her sweet kisses and the soft moans she uttered as his fingers trailed up and down the softness of her skin.

  Had they not been in a public place, he would have made love to her on the floor, against the pillar, on the table or all of the above. His usually well-maintained control had been close to breaking point. Being attracted to the one person he shouldn’t had resulted in a guilt complex tower-high. She was supposed to be a means to an end.

  Getting the inside scoop on Sebastian burned inside of him. The man was not fit to be Prime Minister and lead the country. He intended to expose him as the fraud he was and Tilly was the key.

  Hell. He could not remember the last time he had been so turned on by a kiss. A cold shower last night had done little to quell his raging libido. He was acting like a randy teenager, excited over his first kiss. He was a man for godsake. He’d had women, quite a few in fact. But never had one made him want to hoist her over his shoulders and carry her back to his room like some Neanderthal.

  God, how long had it been since he last had sex? Too bloody long. It had to be the only explanation to this madness. Or else the Dead Sea salt had solidified his brain. His phone rang again and he answered it on auto-pilot, despite not recognising the Israeli number on the caller ID.

  “Nate?”

  His blood chilled at the frightened tone of Tilly’s voice. He clutched the handset tighter. “Tilly, are you okay?”