"Anyway, don't change the subject. We're talking about Xanthe Lane, hotel manager extraordinaire. When I treated her in March, she definitely meant something to you. And you've kissed her, what? Once?"
"Three times," Jason admitted grudgingly.
"Three kisses, then. Why haven't you slept with this girl?"
He couldn't lie to her. She probably already knew, anyway. "Because the day I met her, she said if I ever propositioned her again, she'd take me to court for sexual harassment. And she threw a bucket of water over me. I was hungover as all hell from the night before and in no state for anything, but I do remember that."
Caitlin laughed. "I like her."
"So do I."
"So you've never asked her again?" Caitlin pressed.
No way was he telling her he'd proposed to Xan in hospital. "No. Because no means no, right? You taught me that."
"Yeah, but...no a year ago to a stranger lying in a pool of his own vomit is different to if you asked her now. You know, sober and clean and not really a stranger any more."
Jason frowned. "I don't want a one night stand with Xan. Not any more."
"No," Caitlin said thoughtfully. "I guess you don't. So offer her something you do want to share with her instead."
"And if she says no?"
Caitlin shrugged. "Don't ask her until you've given her a bloody good reason to say yes. But ask her. Tell her how you feel. Don't just let her walk away without trying something. Nathan and I...we walked away from us, without saying everything that needed to be said. It cost us six years. Six years I'd take back in a heartbeat if I could, no matter what we did in that time. Nothing can make up for lost time."
Jason's heart froze. "You'd have given up all of Chaya for him?"
Caitlin squeezed her eyes shut. "To save him from the pain of those years, yes. Oh, that reminds me. I didn't just have a thank you gift for Xan. I have one for you, too." She pulled a USB drive out of her pocket and held it out. "Jo said you're considering signing a new contract. A comeback tour, with a new band to front, if need be. I want you to know that I'm happy to sign over the rights to the band name, just like Jo will. You can call it Chaya if you want. And if you do...that drive has every unreleased song I've ever written on it. Some are pretty rough, but that should keep you going for the next decade or so."
Jason closed his fingers around the drive. Such a tiny thing could ensure his rock stardom for the foreseeable future. Caitlin, as Angel, was always the heart of the band. "Are you sure I can't persuade you to...?"
Caitlin shook her head. "No, my performing days are over. But if you decide to record any of those...I wouldn't say no to a royalty share."
Worth it at twice the price. "Of course. Thank you."
She patted his shoulder. "Good luck, Jason. Now I'm settled, I'd like to see you and Jo happy, too."
"I'm not marrying her!" Jason squawked in mock-horror. "She's my sister!"
With a wave goodbye, Caitlin left.
So, a trip to Sydney was in order. He could do that. A few phone calls and he'd have accommodation and flights sorted, no worries. Maybe Caitlin was right. What did he have to lose? Only Xan. And there was no fucking way he wanted that. If any woman was worth fighting for, it was Xanthe Lane.
FIFTY-ONE
As she climbed into the helicopter, Xan congratulated herself on managing to avoid Jason all week. It had meant spending more time at home and less in the lagoon, but she had been busy preparing for this interview. All her citizenship papers were in order, so she was allowed to stay in Australia no matter what job she held now – no being tied to the resort. Or the too-tempting man who owned the place.
Admittedly, she hadn't managed to avoid the honeymoon couple, who spent an unusual amount of time outside their bedroom together. They couldn't keep their hands off each other, but it wasn't in that get-a-room way other honeymooners did it. Maybe things were different when the girl was as hands-off as Caitlin. The honeymoon was over, though – the couple had flown home yesterday, laden with their luggage and a pile of wedding gifts.
Xan's only luggage was a carry-on case, containing a couple of interview suits and a dress. She figured she'd spend a day shopping in Sydney, taking advantage of the number of stores that the tiny town of Broome just didn't have. Maybe even splash out on a new pair of shoes. She'd need them, if she worked in Sydney. No more resort style clothing for work. It would be formal suits every day.
"What are we waiting for?" she asked Shou.
"Another passenger," he replied.
Xan's heart sank as the door cracked open. Jason stood framed in the doorway, an uncertain smile on his face, before he climbed into the seat beside her.
"Where are you headed?" she asked before he could question her.
"I have to discuss terms and sign some contracts with my agent. We need to work out the schedule for recording the next album, and touring afterwards." Jason reclined in his seat, folding his arms behind his head. "Fuck, it'll be good to be back behind the mike again."
"How long will you be gone?"
"As long as it takes, I guess," Jason replied. "Can't rush these things. And on tour, everyone wants a concert or two. Can't disappoint the fans."
Xan breathed a sigh of relief. If this interview went badly, then she might have a reprieve at the resort for a while, if Jason was away. She'd still look for another position, but she wouldn't be under as much pressure to get away from him.
Shou fired up the rotors then, making the cabin too noisy for talk. Jason put his headphones on, but Xan left hers on the seat, not wanting to hear any more. Instead, she contented herself with the view out the window. This might be one of her last opportunities to see the Kimberley laid out below her. Funny to think of all that red rock as home. Not to mention she'd miss the opportunity for daily snorkelling. After just a week out of the lagoon, she was already missing her afternoon swim with the local wildlife.
Maybe she was being too quick, taking the first job offer she'd seen. Sydney had never been her scene. She'd have been better off waiting for a position on another island resort, maybe on the Great Barrier Reef or somewhere in the South Pacific. Or even Mauritius. No, she didn't speak French, so Mauritius was out.
She risked a glance at Jason. He was just enjoying the ride, as usual. Was there anything about life that could upset the man for long? A week ago, he'd been as down and depressed as a man could be as he watched the girl he loved marry another man. Now, he looked like he was planning mischief. Knowing Jason, he probably was. Thankfully, she'd be too far away to deal with it until she got home.
All too soon, the helicopter circled in to land. Moments later, a familiar jet with a kangaroo adorning its red tail dropped onto the runway. Xan's plane to Sydney.
She bade the boys a curt goodbye and headed for the main terminal building, wheeling her case behind her. Xan waited patiently in line to pick up her boarding pass, trying not to look impatient as the family with far too many suitcases in front of her took forever dragging their luggage to the counter. One of the check in staff signalled to Xan that she was free, so Xan strode to the counter, holding out her passport.
"Flying to Sydney?" the woman asked.
"Yes," Xan replied.
"Luggage?"
"Just my carry-on."
The woman nodded, her red and white striped nails ticking on the keyboard. Xan wondered who did manicures like that. Surely painting all those little lines took forever, and what if you chipped one? If the woman did them herself, she must have the patience of a saint. Or perhaps nail art was her thing, her mindfulness exercise, for when her job got too boring or too stressful or –
The last voice in the world Xan wanted to hear said, "You've given her the wrong seat." Jason tapped Xan's boarding pass. "This says economy class. My staff fly business or first."
The woman looked flustered. "But she's only paid for – "
Jason produced a credit card. "Fix it, please."
Xan felt her face grow hot. "It's fine
. I'm not flying for business. This is a personal trip."
"Doesn't matter. You're the manager of a high class resort. It's a matter of reputation." Jason shoved the credit card at the woman. "I can't allow you to fly economy. If it bothers you, you should find a job managing a less exclusive hotel."
If anything, Xan's blush deepened. He couldn't possibly know about her job interview. He couldn't. "Fine," she muttered, taking the new boarding pass and heading for the security scanning station. He couldn't follow her through there.
She stuck her laptop in one of the plastic trays and pushed her bag with it toward the conveyor belt. Behind her, a wallet and phone thumped into another tray, alongside a handful of tinkling keys. Why was Jason following her?
"What are you doing?" she hissed.
"Emptying my pockets to go through security, or they won't let me fly," Jason replied, stepping through the scanner. The bastard didn't even beep. He shoved his belongings into his pockets before they'd even scanned her bag.
"You're not flying anywhere. You don't have any luggage!" Xan said, ripping open her bag so she could dump her laptop inside.
Jason shrugged. "Don't need it. I have plenty of clothes at my place. Just need the keys." He dangled them from one finger.
For a moment, Xan had forgotten that Jason owned more properties than just the resort. To be fair, she hadn't really thought about it before, but it made sense. He probably had a place in every major city he visited often. A beachfront villa in Queensland, something overlooking Sydney Harbour, an inner-city bachelor pad in Melbourne, a penthouse in Peppermint Grove in Perth...but they couldn't compare to the resort, or he'd be living at one of them. Romance Island was the best.
Or it would be, if she didn't have to share it with him. She could barely look at him now, without thinking of his searing kisses on the jetty, how they'd danced, and how she'd dreamed...
That's why she had to leave. To take this job, wherever and whatever it entailed.
Xan headed straight for the bar.
"Where are you going?" Jason asked.
"I need a drink."
Jason jerked his head. "But the business lounge is that way. I'd take you as my guest, but I don't need to. Your ticket is invitation enough."
For the first time, Xan glanced at her boarding pass. Business class, not first. Not that she'd complain. "Where is it?"
Jason lifted his chin, eyeing what Xan thought was the airport control tower. "Up there." He wove through the crowd, headed for the stairs at the base of the tower.
It wasn't until they reached it that Xan noticed the sign pointing the way up to the business lounge. The rock star was right.
FIFTY-TWO
She managed to avoid him during the flight, as her seat was on the other side of the business class cabin to his, but he found her again at Sydney Airport while she was trying to get a taxi.
"I have a car, and I can give you a lift to your accommodation, if you like."
Xan shook her head. "I've seen you drive. You might have your licence back, but I'm not getting into a car with you. I remember what happened last time."
He actually laughed. "It's not bushfire season any more. And I mean, I have a car with a driver. My car's in my garage here."
"I'm sure you're not going anywhere near where I'm going," Xan said, hoping to discourage him.
"Where are you staying?"
She didn't remember. Somewhere cheap she'd booked at the last minute, not far from where her interview would be held. "Somewhere in the CBD," she said, knowing it was a nightmare to drive through.
"Perfect. My place is in Kent Street."
Bugger.
"You know, you could just save your money and stay with me. I doubt any city hotel can beat my place," Jason continued.
She could imagine. "Let me guess. A penthouse with views over Sydney Harbour?"
His brow wrinkled. "You've seen it?"
Xan laughed. "No, just a good guess. This isn't my first time in Sydney."
"What are you doing here?"
Such an innocent question, but Xan didn't want to answer it. "Some shopping, maybe meet up with a few people. I just wanted...a break. Something different, after all the worries of that wedding."
"My place would be perfect for that. Close to everything, really. I won't be home much, either – I'm here to meet with my agent and the record company."
"So you're really doing it? Going back to the rock star life?"
Jason frowned. "I guess so. Yeah. Uh, car's waiting. You coming or not?"
The taxi drivers didn't seem to want to know her, so Xan grumpily agreed.
She sat in the back seat in silence while Jason chatted with the driver all the way into town.
There hadn't been many accommodation options for her, what with so many conferences on this week and the short notice. If she'd known, she would have accepted the initial offer of a hotel room in the place she was being asked to manage, but she'd turned it down, thinking to take a few extra days to make it a proper break, just like she'd told Jason. It didn't help that the only direct flights between Broome and Sydney ran twice a week, so she'd be here almost a week, whether she liked it or not. That didn't come cheap.
For a moment, she wished she could take Jason up on his offer of a place to stay, but it just wouldn't be right.
"Xan?"
Xan looked up to find both the driver and Jason staring at her. "What?"
"I said, would you like to at least see my place, so if your accommodation isn't as nice as you expect, you'll know what your other options are?" Jason said patiently.
"Sure." The word was out of her mouth before she'd really thought it through, and then it was too late. Jason grabbed her case and she followed him out onto the footpath. The car sped off and out of sight before Xan could change her mind.
"So, you're coming up?" Jason asked eagerly.
"As long as you don't want me to see your etchings or whatever, yes," Xan said.
"Etchings?" It took Jason a moment, then he burst out laughing. He was still laughing as he led the way through the lobby and into the lifts. He swiped his passcard, keyed in a PIN and pressed the button for the twenty-second floor. "Nah, I don't do those. Give me some credit, Xan. I don't deal in euphemisms. I'm offering you a place to stay. As a friend, because I figure that's what we are." There was a challenge in that last bit. One Xan felt compelled to answer.
"I'm here for a job interview," Xan blurted out. "You're my boss. I can't stay with you while I'm trying to find another job." There. She waited for her words to hurt him.
He shrugged. "I'm not your boss. I just own the island where you work. In case you've forgotten, you're the one in charge of the island, not me. And you do what you have to do. The room's still yours, if you want it. At least wait until you've seen it."
The doors dinged open, so Xan followed Jason to his door. Not quite the penthouse, as there were several other apartments on his floor, but they weren't set that close together.
Jason unlocked the door and let Xan enter first. It didn't look much different to Villa Penguin, really. Roughly the same size, though a lot higher up.
"Here. This is the best view," Jason said, beckoning her through the dining room.
Xan couldn't keep the smile off her face as she beheld the promised harbour views, from the balcony, no less. Wherever she'd booked wouldn't have a view like this.
"The bedrooms are through this way. Mine's the first one, but there's two other guestrooms, plus a bathroom I don't use, so you'd have it to yourself. You can take your pick."
Xan peeked into Jason's bedroom, which looked about as lived-in as a hotel room, but then, so did both of the guestrooms. "You aren't here very often, are you?"
"I like my island better. I stayed here whenever we did stuff in Sydney. Concerts. Recording in a studio. Some of the media interviews. New Year." He ventured a smile. "I used to spend every New Year's Eve in Sydney for the fireworks and concerts and stuff. You want to know my best New Year's e
ver?"
Probably headlining a concert in the Opera House, followed by fireworks and a night filled with fangirls. "Probably not."
"You were there. Cyclone Rose, blue cheese gnocchi, and Xanthe in a boat by my side. I'll never tell anyone else that, because I promised you I wouldn't, but it was a New Year to remember, right?"
"Yes. Yes, it was," Xan said, her eyes darting from one guest room to the other. She wanted the one with the balcony. Even if it was next door to Jason, it was a million times better than the shabby-looking hotel room she'd booked. But she was trying to distance herself from him, not further their friendship. Damn it, if she shared a house with him, she'd kiss him again for sure.
Jason closed his eyes. "Look, I told you then that deciding to go back to music, especially with a solo career, is a big thing for me. Fucking scary, really. It'd be really great to be able to share that with someone. Someone I can talk to about it, so I don't do anything stupid."
Xan swallowed. Anyone else, she'd have agreed to help. Damn it, she wanted to help him so much. Instead, she forced herself to say, "But what if I come back from my interview, thrilled because I got the job, and I want to celebrate?"
His eyes met hers. "Then we get some fucking champagne and celebrate, if that's what you want." He meant it. He really meant it. "We'll already have plenty of bugger-the-whole-world bourbon in the house for bad news."
Xan couldn't help it. She laughed. "When did you hear me call it that?"
"One of the nights we spent talking on the Penguin jetty. Probably with a bottle of bourbon," Jason admitted. "Please stay. It's fucking lonely here by myself. I'll even make you pancakes."
Those warm honey eyes had won her over, and she knew it. "You don't know how to make pancakes."
"Fuck, you're right. Maybe I'll buy a cookbook or something so I can learn."
Xan just shook her head. "All right. I'll stay."
He hugged her. "You're a fucking legend, Xanthe. Thank you."
This time, she didn't push him away. She'd have to do that for good soon enough.
The Rock Star's Wedding Page 18