Socialite's Gamble

by Michelle Conder

  He swore and released her.

  ‘This has really upset you.’

  He thought she’d been crying so desperately over the publicity, she realised, something that was infinitely more preferable to what had really made her so upset last night: his rejection and how much of a failure she felt.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Hold on.’ He gripped her chin again and brought her eyes back to his. ‘Your eyes are blue today, not green.’

  ‘Violet actually, though you probably can’t tell because they’re bloodshot. I’m wearing coloured contact lenses and channelling Elizabeth Taylor to cheer myself up.’

  Aidan hesitated as he took her in. ‘Do you actually need contact lenses?’

  ‘No. I just like them.’

  ‘What colour are your eyes naturally?’

  ‘A boring colour.’

  Before he could respond and tell her that he doubted that there could be anything boring about her at all there was a discreet knock at the door. Aidan dropped her glasses into her lap.

  While he moved to answer the door Cara jumped off the sofa and raced for the nearest room.

  His bedroom. It still smelled faintly of his spicy scent and she told herself to ignore it. To ignore every sexy thing about him.

  She glanced in the mirror to find that her eyes were slightly less puffy than before but that she had been right: they were still a little bloodshot. Combined with the flush on her cheeks she looked a real treat.

  ‘Cara. Where are you?’

  ‘In here.’ She reappeared in the doorway and tried to seem more together than when she’d first arrived. Aidan stood beside a linen-covered trolley laden with food and her stomach growled. ‘I didn’t want the room service person to see me.’

  He gave her a sardonic smile. ‘I think it’s a bit late for that, don’t you?’

  He held out a cup of coffee. ‘How do you have it?’

  ‘With arsenic.’

  His smile broadened and her hand shook as she took the cup from him and added milk and sugar. Did the man have to look so together in his suit and pressed shirt? He made her feel like a wilted flower by comparison.

  ‘Surely it’s not that bad,’ he said.

  ‘For you,’ she reminded him glumly. ‘I still have to work out what to tell Christos.’

  ‘Don’t tell him anything.’

  ‘Easy for you to say.’

  ‘Then tell him we’re a couple and last night was some sort of wild sex game.’

  ‘Unfortunately he would believe the latter of that bizarre statement but not the former.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You need to ask? The respectable Aidan Kelly and the Chatsfield disaster, a couple? I don’t think so. No.’ She shook her head automatically as he handed her headache tablets. ‘I’m a health nut. I prefer to heal naturally.’

  ‘Very admirable. Now take them.’

  She rolled her eyes but did as he bade. ‘Are you always this bossy?’

  He hesitated briefly and then shrugged. ‘Apparently, yes.’ Then he handed her a croissant.

  ‘I don’t eat anything with butter, either.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous. No wonder you cry so much.’

  She smiled at that and eyed the pastry. She hadn’t had a buttery croissant in years. Her stomach rose in anticipation and he thrust the plate closer. The yeasty scent went up her nose and she took it rather than argue.

  ‘Listen,’ he began. ‘I can’t help feeling slightly responsible for the bind you’re in and I’m serious about you telling Christos that we’re a couple.’

  ‘Don’t you care about what people will say about you?’

  ‘I can hold my own in the world, Cara.’

  His use of her name made swallowing the strip of croissant she’d peeled off difficult and it felt like paper in her dry mouth. She gulped down a coffee chaser and cleared her throat. ‘He’ll never buy it.’ And when Aidan showed up in the papers in a week’s time with a beautiful woman on his arm she’d feel even more like a fool. ‘So thanks, but I’m good.’

  ‘Good?’ He looked dubious. ‘What’s your alternative?’

  ‘I was thinking of spinning a globe, closing my eyes and pointing and then just disappearing for a while.’

  ‘On your own?’

  She shuddered. ‘You’re right, bad idea. I’ll hide out at my agent’s house in LA instead.’ Not that she really wanted to because Harriet would want to plan her next move and as far as Cara was concerned her next move was to make like an ostrich.

  ‘That’s it.’ He gulped down the espresso he had poured himself and set the cup down on the table. ‘You’re coming with me.’

  Cara stared at his frowning face. ‘Where?’

  ‘I have a conference for the next two days in Fiji. You can come, sit on the beach, go to the spa. Give yourself a couple of days to come up with a better plan than globe spinning.’

  She gave a faint smile. ‘What will that solve? You hate me.’

  ‘I don’t hate you.’ He paced across the windows and stared outside. ‘And it will make our relationship look real enough for Christos to cut you some slack.’

  Great, he felt sorry for her … but Cara had to admit that the thought of laying low on a tropical island held a wealth of appeal.

  ‘Will there be any paparazzi there?’

  ‘It’s an exclusive resort that values the privacy of its guests. And I’m not taking no for an answer.’

  Cara looked at the man opposite her. He was throwing her a lifeline and she knew she should feel better about it than she did. Could she spend the next two days in the company of a man who attracted her more than any man ever had before?

  ‘Do you ever?’ she asked.

  ‘No.’ He smiled and her stomach somersaulted.

  Which was when she knew that if he ever did decide that he wanted her she would be in massive trouble.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  LANDING IN FIJI, Cara was immediately struck by how different it was to Las Vegas.

  Where Vegas had been full of flashy lights surrounded by empty desert, Fiji was understated but completely lush. There was no other word to describe the deep green of the tropical foliage, the spicy-sweet humid air and the deep blue waters of the South Pacific.

  They arrived in late evening and by the time they had reached the speedboat that would take them to their island destination the hot ball of the sun had dropped below the horizon. Darkness followed quickly behind and by the time they were seated on the white leather bench seats and their bags stowed the stars were already twinkling in a black velvet sky, so close it was as if Cara could reach up and touch them.

  She felt the wind whip through her hair and the spray of water on her face as the speedboat roared across the warm ocean and skirted small, darkened islands, some lit from within by tiny dots of yellow lights while others lay eerily pitch-black. All were ringed with pale white sand and edged with gently swaying palm trees that seemed to stand as silent centurions shielding a tropical interior.

  Not for the first time Cara wondered if she’d made the right decision coming with Aidan. Although the opportunity to hide out from her problems had been initially appealing Cara couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that she should have just returned to LA or London and the fold of her friends. At least with them she would have been too busy to get caught up in thinking about what a disaster zone she was.

  Looking around her now she was uncomfortably aware that she was going to have to spend vast amounts of time alone or with a man who had kissed her breathless and already found her wanting.

  The speedboat slowed as they neared an island that looked like it had come straight out of Robinson Crusoe. A line of waist-high torches lined the sandy shore and disappeared into tropical undergrowth and small boats were pulled up onto the sand. The only sounds Cara could discern were the putting sounds of their engine and the swish of the water as it rolled onto the shore.

  Suddenly she had a horrible vision of being stuck on an island a
ll by herself with no one to talk to and just the memories of how much she had mucked up last night to keep her company.

  A large native man on the beach raised his hand and yelled a greeting as he waded into the water and grabbed the prow of their boat.

  ‘Is it always this quiet?’ Cara murmured as Aidan came up beside her.

  ‘At this time of the night, yes. You better take off your shoes and roll your pants. We have to wade in.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ She peered over the side at the swirling water. ‘They don’t have biting fish in Fiji, do they?’

  ‘Only piranhas, but they sleep at night.’

  Cara glanced up in time to see a quick grin fade from his lips. ‘Very funny.’

  She handed over her handbag and sandals to the waiting boatman and slipped into the warm, shallow water.

  Aidan rolled up his pants and leaped with easy grace into the shallows, as well, and Cara mused that there was no way the man could spend every day sitting in an office chair and running a multibillion-dollar business.

  ‘Are you sure the conference is here?’ she asked.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I can’t hear anything except the trees moving and the water breaking on the beach. And it’s so dark. Sort of eerie.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark?’

  Feeling completely exposed by his flippant tone Cara turned her head away and concentrated on not stepping in any unseen holes in the sandy shallows. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt Aidan’s hand on her elbow. The chemistry she’d been trying to ignore flaring hotly to life inside of her.

  ‘You are afraid of the dark.’

  ‘Not the dark per se …’ She swallowed. ‘I have a phobia about being alone.’

  His brows rose up his forehead. ‘A phobia?’

  ‘Well, it sometimes feels like a phobia. I just like having people around. When I was little I used to climb into my sister’s bed most nights to sleep.’

  ‘Not your parents’?’

  ‘No. They weren’t really around much.’

  He looked at her curiously and Cara turned away. She never spoke about her parents—or lack of them.

  ‘Bula. Welcome to the Coconut Beach Front Resort.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Cara turned to smile at another Fijian man who greeted them. This one was the size of a sumo wrestler but his open smile was instantly engaging.

  ‘Dinesh!’ Aidan greeted him like an old friend, giving the man one of those high manly handshakes she had seen her brothers do together when they hadn’t seen one another for a while.

  ‘Good to see you again, boss. It’s been too long.’

  Boss? Was that some sort of friendly island greeting, or was Aidan literally the man’s boss?

  ‘Dinesh, this is Cara Chatsfield. She is my guest while we’re here.’

  ‘A pleasure to meet you, Ms Chatsfield. I hope you enjoy your stay.’ He turned to point a little way up the beach. ‘If you would please come this way I’ll drive you to your bungalow.’

  He led them to a small buggy and within minutes they had pulled up outside a quaint wooden beach hut with a thatched roof. Cara was completely charmed as she made her way up the couple of steps to a wide veranda.

  Another native Fijian, a woman dressed in traditional island sarong-style skirt and white blouse, handed them a tall glass of fruit juice and Cara sighed blissfully at the flavour, feeling a renewed sense of energy as the sugar hit her system.

  Inside, quaintness gave way to decadent luxury with whitewashed walls, deep-seated sofas and dark wooden floors covered in traditional hemp rugs. Exotic flowers had been placed around the large living area and Cara stepped into the small tub of fresh water to rinse the clinging sand from her feet before venturing inside.

  ‘Oh, this is really lovely.’

  She turned and then stepped back to let Dinesh pass with their luggage.

  Unexpectedly large hands spanned her waist and she let out a nervous sound as she realised she’d stepped straight back into Aidan. For a heartbeat her bottom nestled against his hard thighs and Cara forgot to breathe as heat rushed through her body.

  She took a quick step forward and his hands dropped to his sides. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her voice slightly hoarse.

  ‘My fault,’ he intoned, not looking at her as he moved farther into the room. It seemed to Cara that the previous night hung between them as if no time had passed at all and she didn’t know whether to move forward or backwards. Both physically and metaphorically, she thought without real amusement.

  Deciding to explore while Aidan spoke with Dinesh, Cara discovered an ornate gold-and-marble bathroom straight out of a Turkish bathhouse, two single bedrooms and a larger bedroom with a huge four-poster bed fit for a queen.

  A low hum of pleasure lingered on her lips and, grinning widely, she made an elaborate circle with her arms when she heard Dinesh behind her with the bags.

  ‘Dinesh, this is—’

  Cara’s eyes widened and she dropped her arms awkwardly to her sides. Instead of Dinesh it was Aidan and he was scowling at her.

  ‘Your bags.’

  ‘Oh, thanks.’ Not wanting him to think that she had automatically expected to take the master bedroom and doing her best not to imagine what it would be like to actually share the room with him, Cara cleared her throat. ‘You can have this room. I didn’t expect—’

  ‘That’s fine.’ He cut her off. ‘I don’t sleep much anyway.’

  Needing to get away from the big bed and him, Cara made the mistake of moving at the exact moment he did, but this time rather than just brush against him she found herself momentarily plastered up against the front of him.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’

  Heat didn’t just simmer this time, it shot through her, and the breath that hitched in her lungs sounded like a gunshot in the quiet room. Aidan’s blue gaze burned into hers and Cara felt her pulse leap as she held her breath in anticipation of his devastating kiss.

  Only instead of kissing her, Aidan pressed his lips together in a grim line and clamped his hands on her shoulders to push her back.

  ‘Get some sleep.’

  He strode out before she could make another objection and, feeling totally despondent at yet another rejection, she made her way to the bathroom. She gazed longingly at the sunken bathtub but opted instead for a quick, refreshing shower before climbing into bed.

  An hour later, as exhausted as she was, it seemed her body was confused by yet another sudden change in the time zone and she was unable to sleep. Unable to stop thinking about how many people she had inadvertently let down last night.

  Rolling onto her back she stared at the pale curtains tied back at each post and listened to the unfamiliar island sounds outside her windows. She wondered if Aidan was asleep and then made a face in the darkness.

  Well, of course he was. He’d had as little sleep as she had and would no doubt be as efficient in sleep as he seemed to be in everything else. She almost suspected he could command himself to sleep and he would obey. There were not many men who had that kind of powerful aura, not even her father.

  She thought about how in the early years at school the girls had gossiped behind her back about why her mother had left and who her father’s latest lover was. At the time Cara had mistakenly believed that she was in competition with those women for her father’s affections but in the end she had learned the truth. There hadn’t been any competition at all because she hadn’t stood a chance.

  Hating that those thoughts kept creeping into her head all of a sudden when she usually had no trouble keeping them at bay, she pushed the bedcovers back and stood up. The reason she usually had no trouble keeping them at bay was because she was always busy. Busy having a meal with friends, shopping, dancing … Her life was a blur of activity and this silent, remote island was making her feel even more alone.

  As was the big empty bed.

  Since trying to will herself to sleep wasn’t working, Cara dec
ided that a glass of warm milk might help.

  Tentatively she opened the bedroom door and as quietly as possible tiptoed down the short hall and into the main room.

  She had imagined that Aidan would be fast asleep but he wasn’t.

  He was up. Slouched on the sofa wearing an old T-shirt and grey sweatpants. His short hair looked like he had run his hands through it one too many times and his computer was open on his lap.

  He looked sexy and rumpled and her stomach did a silly little flip just looking at him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said on a rush. ‘I didn’t know you were up.’

  Aidan felt his whole body tense as Cara hovered in the doorway. It was difficult to make her out in the low-lit room but unfortunately not so difficult that he couldn’t see that she was wearing some sort of pale nightgown with shoestring straps. A pale, short, nightgown that, combined with her short, straight hair, reminded him once again of a cute, erotic pixie.

  ‘What do you want?’

  He saw the way she recoiled at the harshness of his tone and felt like a jerk. Unfortunately she’d appeared just as he was questioning his reasons for leaving her bedroom earlier without doing anything about the hunger that had surged between them.

  Something at the time had held him back, something in her expression that had given him pause, but looking at her sexy body now he couldn’t bring to mind exactly what that was.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.’

  ‘You’re not,’ he said smoothly, wondering when he’d become such a good liar. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep and thought I might fix myself a warm cup of milk. It used to work when I was a child.’

  ‘Fine.’

  Still she hovered at the edge of the room. ‘Look, I probably don’t need it so I’m sorry for—’

  ‘Would you stop saying sorry,’ he growled.

  ‘Sorry.’

  Realising what she had just said she smiled. ‘Oops, so—I mean, not sorry.’

  Aidan felt a reluctant grin tug at the corner of his mouth and her smile widened.

  ‘Get your cup of milk.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  She moved towards the small open-plan kitchen and he told himself to return to the spreadsheet on his computer screen before he forgot what it was he was working on.