by Robyn Grady
The limo eased up the casino’s resort-style drive. The massive tiered building had been visible from the road for some time. With the huge orange sun sinking rapidly behind the hinterland horizon, banks of lights began to flicker on—iridescent gold and blue—creating the image of a colossal elaborate staircase, which led to the complex’s middle floors. The grounds were pristine and subtropical with masses of palm trees and colourful seasonal flowers in bloom. Libby felt as if she’d truly arrived in paradise.
As the limo rolled into the forecourt, a uniformed doorman strode up and opened the passenger’s door. Alex assisted her out and together they entered an establishment where multiple millions were gambled, won and lost, each day. Moving into the lobby, Alex kept his sunglasses on, surely not because he thought they might disguise who he was. He couldn’t walk into a room and go unnoticed anymore than Russell Crowe. From the way her green eyes widened, the brunette behind the reception desk knew precisely who this handsome guest was.
After checking in, they rode a lift to the top, while peering down over the lower floors through the clear windows of the cabin. When he opened the door of their penthouse and ushered her inside, overwhelmed, Libby sighed long and loud. She felt thoroughly spoilt by the plush crimson carpet, extravagant matching window dressings and sumptuous leather furnishings. But she also felt strangely at home, or at least more at home than in Alex’s grand Rose Bay residence. His house was beyond beautiful, but so large and a little sterile for her tastes. This suite, on the other hand, was big but also had colour and something of a cosy feel even amid all the crystal and gold fittings. She just knew they’d have a wonderful time here.
Alex wandered up behind her. His arms slid around her waist as his warm lips nuzzled her ear.
‘You like?’
Smiling, she nodded. ‘It’s gorgeous.’
‘I could extend our reservation.’
Her heart leapt, but there was no way. ‘I have to be back in the office Monday.’
His hands skimmed down the front of her trousers. ‘No chance of putting back your appointments?’
She didn’t bother to reply. He knew her well enough to understand she would never put her personal agenda ahead of clients’ prearranged appointments.
He chuckled against the sensitive sweep of her neck. ‘I’ll take that as a no. So until Sunday night, then—’ he eased her around ‘—let’s focus on us.’
He tilted her chin up, his mouth covered hers and the effects of his kiss spiralled through her centre, leaving her weak and instantly wanting. She’d been right agreeing to come here with Alex today. Every thing felt so perfect. His body pressed against hers. His words. Most of all, his kiss.
His lips left hers slowly but his mouth stayed close. ‘You sure you want to go see this show? We could always stay in.’
Libby’s pulse rate leapt. She was tempted but, ‘I’m sure the tickets weren’t easy to get a hold of.’
‘Neither were you.’ He took her handbag and blindly set it on the lounge while his eyes smouldered into hers. ‘I’ll order up champagne and we can sip it in bed.’
In the middle of another penetrating kiss, Alex’s phone buzzed and he mumbled, ‘Ignore it.’
Dreamy, she murmured back, ‘Could be important.’
‘Don’t care.’
When the buzz sounded again, however, he groaned and reached for his phone. About to turn it off, he looked at the message ID and drew in a quick breath.
‘It’s Annabelle.’
He retrieved the message. When his brows crept in, Libby asked, ‘Is something wrong?’
‘She’s texting to see if I’ll be attending Nathaniel’s wedding next weekend. I’ve already said I’ll be racing.’
Libby’s insides pitched. He meant racing at his all-important Round Four in China. Holding her stomach, she moved off toward the palm-and-surf-fringed view. She couldn’t avoid it any longer.
‘We’re actually not certain about that yet.’
Feeling his eyes boring a hole in her back, Libby waited on tenterhooks. Although from the get-go she’d known that he’d planned to have her sign off on his injury before the stipulated six weeks, she’d never agreed to anything. Neither had she dismissed his goal outright. Nothing was impossible. Similarly nothing was set in cement.
In the preceding weeks, she’d wrangled her way around the issue. Now, for more reasons than one, she needed to be clear.
Assuming her professional mask, she rotated around. ‘Your shoulder is doing extremely well. But given that your doctor was firm about the time frame for recovery, I can’t make any decisions for or against just yet.’
His eyes narrowed. She could sense his mind ticking over as his chin came slowly up and he sauntered toward her. ‘You could give me a full evaluation early.’
‘Your cuff and lesser muscles have been un der a great deal of strain, and after the setback yesterday—’
‘There’s no reason we can’t go through the exercise, is there?’
Well …
Cornered, she exhaled. ‘No. There’s no reason.’
‘Then I’d like the evaluation.’ The tension in his jaw eased but his gaze still held that glint.
‘I need you to know that I won’t falsify my records.’ She wouldn’t do that for anyone for any reason. He must know that.
His gaze probed hers and a slight grin hooked one corner of his mouth. ‘Of course you wouldn’t.’
As her heartbeat thudded, she tried to read his eyes.
When they’d first met she’d believed she’d had his number. Nothing was taboo when it came to Alex Wolfe securing what he needed to benefit his racing career, including seducing his physiotherapist. Remarkably, in the past twenty-four hours, she’d come to respect Alex. Last night, this morning, flying here this afternoon, she’d even come to trust him … trust that he wouldn’t intentionally use or hurt her. Whatever his plans before they’d met, he would never try to manipulate her now.
‘When do you need to let your doctor know?’ she asked.
‘I can call him Monday with a standby and give the heads-up as late as Wednesday.’
She kept her gaze on his, then eyed his injured shoulder, which looked as magnificent as the other beneath his casual cream button-down sans tie. He’d been superbly fit to begin with. His muscles and tendons had responded well to her program. In her opinion he wasn’t there yet …
But if they had until Wednesday and she tested his shoulder then, holding absolutely nothing back …
She tilted her head. She had to ask.
‘And if I decide your shoulder’s not fit to race?’
He shrugged. ‘Then we’ll go to my brother’s wedding in London.’
She coughed out a laugh, then realised he was serious. ‘You said your other brother’s hotel is off the coast of South America.’
‘Yes, but Sebastian owns hotels worldwide. He has another hotel in London, that’s where the wedding is being held. You have a passport?’
The room began to spin. Alex was asking her to a wedding? And not just any wedding. A Wolfe family occasion, with his brothers and the twin sister he so clearly adored. And missed, though he didn’t want to admit it.
‘I’d much rather take you to China with me,’ he added, closing the distance left separating them. ‘But let’s make the Grande Wolfe Hotel our backup plan. For now …’ He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. ‘Let’s not wait for champagne.’
They dined in an award-winning restaurant overlooking the casino’s dazzling atrium. The redwood and granite decor was exquisite, a perfect setting for the haute cuisine. They enjoyed basil salmon terrine and roast duckling before moving into the theatre to view a show that equalled in talent and score any lavish Vegas production.
Afterward, when they crossed out into the main area, close to where the gaming took place, Libby had thought she, at least, should be tired; the previous night had been a long one and she was an early-to-bed type of girl. And yet this evening had been so enli
vening, the atmosphere so electric, she couldn’t think about retiring to the quiet of their suite just yet. It was as if her every cell was on celebratory mode. Particularly when she thought about his suggestion that she accompany him to the Wolfe wedding. She would get to meet all the larger-than-life characters she’d heard so much about.
It all seemed surreal.
Of course, she couldn’t pretend that she was the kind of woman others might expect to see accompanying Alex to such an event. She didn’t have a manicure every week, or worry too much about fashion and A-lists. Eventually, she supposed, word would leak that she and Alex were involved. And when it did, what anyone else thought wouldn’t matter.
But she was thinking too far ahead.
Slipping through the crowd, looking like the silver screen’s latest version of James Bond in his dinner suit, Alex wrapped her arm around his and slid over a wicked grin.
‘I think you ought to wear that gown to therapy Monday morning, doc.’
Libby swallowed a laugh. She did feel a little like a princess in this evening dress, which she’d bought for the physio guest speaker dinner next month. Beneath the sweetheart neckline, the strapless bodice, which was decorated with beads, fit snug to the hips. The gold leaf coloured satin skirt fell straight to the floor and featured an elegant chapel train. Beyond beautiful to wear on a special evening, however …
She arched a brow. ‘It wouldn’t be so practical in your gym.’
‘Who cares about practical?’ He came close, nipped her ear and a bevy of tingles flew through her. ‘Will we put a few in the slot machines?’ he asked, changing the subject as he tipped away. ‘Or are you more a blackjack fan?’
‘I know we’re in a casino, but I don’t gamble. I don’t mind watching the excitement though.’
He studied a croupier sweeping a tower of chips to the house and admitted, ‘Not my vice either.’ His eyes flashed. ‘I know what I promised we’d do. Dance.’
Libby stilled. She was so not comfortable with that idea, but she didn’t want to seem like a coward. Or … inadequate.
Casting a quick glance around at patrons enjoying the beating lights and ringing bells, she hitched up her shoulders and let them drop. ‘I don’t think they have a dance floor.’
‘Of course they do.’ His eyes lighting up, he snapped his fingers. ‘I have an idea.’
Before she could object, they were headed toward the reception desk. After leaving her by an elaborate water feature, he stopped by the concierge and spoke briefly to a middle-aged man who nodded enthusiastically and handed something over. Joining her again, Alex snatched a kiss from her cheek.
‘All set.’
He wouldn’t explain further, only led her to the casino foyer and out into the forecourt, where a sleek black sports car awaited. When a uniformed porter opened the passenger’s side door, Libby hesitated only a moment before giving into the spirit of adventure and sliding into the sumptuous dark leather cabin. After buckling up, Alex ignited the engine and, incredibly low to the ground, the car zipped out the hotel grounds.
Anticipation balling in her stomach, Libby looked across and took in Alex’s classic profile, dramatically silhouetted against the moon and streetlights. ‘So, where are you whisking me away to now?’
His mouth hooked into a grin. ‘That’s top secret, I’m afraid.’
They headed away from the bright lights until, looking around, Libby realised there were few lights at all. Minutes later, he drove into a darkened and otherwise empty car park positioned one side of a quiet stretch of sand dunes. While Libby racked her brains, trying to work out what came next, her door opened and Alex offered a hand.
A cool salty breeze filed through her hair as she pushed to her feet and scanned the peaceful scene.
The hum of traffic and lights from the city seemed an eternity away while the stars were a hundred times brighter and nearer than she’d ever seen. Beyond the dunes, the rhythmic wash of waves called. Seemed that Alex heard their call too. His hand folded around hers and he gave an encouraging tug.
‘Let’s walk.’
Her heart flew to her throat. ‘On the beach?’
‘Sure.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘Slip off your shoes.’
‘Alex, you know I haven’t—’ Her throat convulsed and she swallowed. ‘I haven’t …’
Cupping her face, he smiled into her eyes. ‘You haven’t been on a beach since your accident. Tonight, I think that should change.’
Tonight? Right now? ‘You’re serious?’
‘More than you know.’
When he slipped off his shoes, Libby’s breath hitched in her chest. Barefoot, he headed toward the dunes, then threw a glance back. ‘You coming?’
Libby took a few deep breaths but her head still tingled with the heavy scratchings of panic. He didn’t know what he was asking.
‘The sand’s cool and soft,’ he said before lifting his nose to the air. ‘I can feel the salt spray on my face.’
Closing her eyes, Libby lifted her face too. As moist briny air filled her lungs, pictures of her playing in the sand as a girl rushed up—carefree, innocent—and an unexpected urge gripped. When she opened her eyes, her pulse was thumping with the beginnings of excitement.
Do it. Just do it!
Before she could change her mind, she swept off her shoes and hurried to meet him on top of the grassy dune. Laughing, he snatched a kiss, grabbed her hand and together they navigated the downward sandy slope.
Libby found herself laughing too. Yes, the sand was cool and powder soft. It felt so good, she had to fight the impulse to fall to her knees and scoop the grains up in her arms like she used to. Should she have tried to do this sooner, or was now simply the right time? With the right person. She couldn’t say that she was completely anxiety free. But with Alex walking alongside of her, his hand fitted so firmly around hers, she could handle the unease and focus on the great memories rather than the sad.
Libby’s gaze slipped to Alex’s thoughtful profile as he watched the waves folding in several metres away. Was he thinking of how his mother had once taken him to the beach? Was he wishing he’d been old enough to remember? Good memories mixed with sad …
Alex seemed to come back from wherever his mind had been and glanced down at her feet. ‘How’s it feel?’
‘Weird,’ she replied, then admitted with a happy grin. ‘Nice. Very nice.’
The sparkle in his eyes said he was pleased. ‘Someone once told me our only restrictions are the ones we place on ourselves.’
‘Carter White?’ He nodded and it made sense. But, to be fair, as Alex well knew: ‘Sometimes it can be a challenge to conquer them.’
Beneath a glittering stream of stars, his gaze intensified. Was he thinking of the limitations he put on himself in later life? Personal boundaries, cut-off lines he didn’t want to revisit even with all his success and world acclaim?
His pace slowed and he gestured to something up ahead. ‘Looks as if we’re expected.’
Libby’s spirits dropped. She’d thought they were alone, just them and the stars and the sea. But, yes, ahead up the beach sat a small enclosed marquee, barely illuminated by a handful of misty lights. Then the gentle strains of a symphony seemed to fade up out of nowhere. Violins, saxophones … an invisible orchestra was playing.
But as they ventured closer, it became apparent that the marquee, and immediate area, was vacant. Libby darted a look around and pricked her ears to catch any sounds of company. But Alex didn’t look the least surprised or curious.
Finally coming up to speed, she set her hands on her hips. ‘You organised this, didn’t you?’
He only laughed. ‘Guilty, Your Honour.’ He moved to an ice bucket, proceeded to inspect the champagne bottle’s label, then exclaimed, ‘Exceptional year. But we’ll open it later. For now …’ After replacing the bottle, he returned to stand before her. His warm hand twined around hers, he pressed a light kiss to her knuckles, then brought their clasped hands to his lapel. ‘We’
re going to dance.’
‘Here?’
‘Yes, Libby. Here. Now.’ His gaze roamed her face. ‘You’re going to dance with me.’
Panic fisted in her windpipe. ‘But the sand … it’s so uneven.’
His other hand scoped around to support her back. ‘I’ve got you.’
Libby was ready to insist. She didn’t feel like dancing. Wasn’t getting her on the beach after so long breaking down a big enough fence for one night? But as his gaze continued to hold hers and his confidence in her radiated out, she pressed her lips together, inhaled one big steadying breath and, sucking it up, let the music filter over her.
As the chorus of a well-known love song grew slightly louder, Alex took one step, then another, and gradually something strong and instinctive took over and Libby began to move too, stilted at first, feeling uncertain … awkward. But he continued to move along with her, then move a little faster. Next he was winding her under his arm. When he brought her back, he swayed with her again before the music segued into something more dramatic.
He rested his forehead against her. ‘What do you think? Ready to go to town?’
Before she could say, ‘No! Definitely not!’ he did some incredible move and wound her under his arm again before dipping her Valentino style and leading her in a dramatic tango charge. Stunned—amazed—at any moment Libby fully expected to fall flat on her face. But although her moves were hardly smooth, she kept up. Kept up and more! When he changed direction and slid back the other way, she gave herself over to the impulsiveness of it, to the freedom. To the trust. And for the first time in years, it was true.
She lifted her face to the moon and laughed out loud.
She was dancing!
They danced until the night air grew too cold on her arms. Alex removed his jacket and, moving behind her, drew the warm black fabric over her shoulders. As he stood once more in front of her, she peered up into his gaze, dark grey and intense in the shadows, and suddenly the awareness of what throbbed between them, of what they’d shared in just over a day, became too much.