“The Safework people from Darwin are trying to track you down about the incident too.”
“My phone was off in the hospital.” He told her to give them the hotel number if they needed to contact him and then snapped his phone shut. The battery would be dead soon enough and he didn’t want to be out of contact.
Maybe Sophie was telling the truth? But then again, maybe not. So many people had tried to take advantage of his money over the years. He knew he’d grown cynical but it was the only defence he had against deceptively sweet smiles and ruthlessly calculating women. He was getting used to the vultures circling.
Since his divorce he’d been particularly unapproachable, especially by members of the opposite sex.
Until now.
He shook his head, determined to banish his unpleasant thoughts, but the movement left him feeling disoriented. It didn’t help that her perfume lingered in the air, making the whole place smell like her. There was no quicker way to change his mind’s path. She had a unique scent that was getting under his skin. A mix of flowers and something fruity.
It made him feel as though she was still in the room, as though he still touched her her. His fingers twitched, longing to feel the softness of her hands again. It had been two whole years since he’d last had sex. Maybe that’s why he was thinking like a pubescent teenager? If he really thought about it, he knew that wasn’t it. He was a grown man, not fifteen and randy.
As much as he tried to push it all away, he wanted to know the exact colour of her eyes. Did she have long legs that went on forever or did she have the physique of an athlete? He had a feeling she was a good deal shorter than him but that wasn’t hard or unusual. He was very tall. He was also a very visual person and enjoyed a stunning example of femininity. His ex-wife had been a beautiful Italian woman all black hair and smooth olive skin.
But looks could be deceiving, he thought wryly. She had screwed him over royally and then laughed all the way to the bank with over eighty million dollars of his hard-earned money. She would have got more but most of his cash was tied up through the business and he’d been smart enough to put most of his assets in his company’s name so it couldn’t be touched. It was the same reason he would repurchase his own bloody house but through his company, not in his own name.
With eighty million, settled out of court, Olivia should be set up, not only for the rest of her life but the lives of her children as well. Whoever they belonged to. He still remembered that day in the hospital when she’d sobbed and told him it had been a one-time thing that had meant nothing. Couldn’t he forgive her and raise the child as his own? She had even suggested that they tell the world she’d delivered a stillborn child and then adopted.
‘Of course we might have to keep the baby hidden for a little while,’ was her master plan. One she’d had months to hatch apparently. She would have known all along that there was chance the baby wasn’t his. Outraged was an understatement for how she’d made him feel with her words and her tears and her pleading.
All through her long and painful labour he was there holding her hand, wiping the sweat from her eyes, enduring the abuse she hurled at everyone every time she had had a contraction. When the baby had finally slipped into the world, all red, covered in muck and wailing, the first thing he noticed was that it was a boy. This feeling of rightness, of pride and happiness, had filled him to bursting. He’d felt his world finally settle into place there in that room, with his family.
When the hospital staff went quiet and only the baby’s cries could be heard, he wondered if he’d missed something. If everything was all right with his son and his wife. Then the doctor had looked at him with that look in his eyes. That you poor bastard look and he’d known.
The nurse brought the baby to him and he saw the eyes, the face. He looked to his wife and that’s when the sobbing started. That was the last time he’d seen her. He couldn’t trust himself not to kill her for making a fool out of him, for tricking him. Part of the divorce settlement stipulated she retire from the public eye for no less than two years. If she showed up in an interview or on a talk show in that time she would forfeit all of the money he’d handed over. He was waiting for her to slip up, to make a mistake that would see his earnings back in his own pocket.
She would slip up eventually. He was sure of it.
To say he didn’t trust easily was also an understatement. The only person he would put his life on the line for in this world was his sister. Michaela was two years younger than him and at twenty-nine she was already married with two young children, identical twins, Jordan and Jonathan. He thought about how long it had been since he’d seen her. With only an hour or so between their current locations, he would have time to visit. He smiled to himself for the first time in days.
Michaela’s husband was an Australian architect. They were now living in Noosa where Bruno worked from home, commuting to Brisbane and Sydney when he had to. They lived in a huge house right on the beachfront. He sighed thinking how serene it sounded. Sometimes he wished he lived a peaceful reclusive life.
He was brought out of his musings as the elevator dinged. Sophie was back.
“Did you have a nice walk?” he asked casually, the rustle of shopping bags meeting his ears.
“It was enlightening,” she replied.
“What did you buy?”
“Just a few bits and pieces.”
She was hiding something. He could hear it in the hesitant way she answered his question, how her voice caught on the words. He was blind but he was not stupid. And Sophie Wright was a terrible liar.
“Anything interesting?” He wished he could stare her down until she submitted and told him what he wanted to know. He had to settle with the fact she was already uncomfortable. He stood, hoping to add to her nervousness.
“Not really.” Another hesitation, another lie?
“Do you have something to tell me, Sophie?” His lips flattened back in the grim line it had been set in when she’d walked from the room. He couldn’t glare with his eyes, but he was pretty sure she would get the hint soon enough.
“I bought you something,” she revealed, the words soft, hesitant, unsure.
He wondered what the hell she could have bought him that would make her feel so uneasy.
Chapter Seven
“You didn’t bring any luggage...you don’t have any clothes...I mean...” Sophie stumbled over the words she wanted to say. She was glad he couldn’t see the blush burning her cheeks. Again. Why did he do that to her? It was uncomfortable being so hot in the face all the time when he was near.
Wandering through one of the many tourist shops lining the packed esplanade, she remembered he had no clothes with him. She didn’t know how long it would be until he had some sent over and she didn’t want him to spend the next few days wearing the same stuffy clothes. Anyway, it was way too hot for slacks and long-sleeved business shirts so she bought him a pair of navy board shorts and a bright Hawaiian shirt with hibiscus flowers on it.
She didn’t want to return with just that when he still didn’t have jocks or socks but she didn’t know his size and she didn’t know what he wore, jocks or boxers so she got him a pair of both. She’d stood in the store imagining the size of his butt for a ridiculous amount of time. The sales lady must have been waiting for her to stroke out and collapse.
Buying a few bits of clothing wouldn’t break the bank but it had seriously depleted her cash since she didn’t have access to her account. Not that she wanted to spend her meagre funds even if she could have.
“What did you get me?” he asked.
“Just a few bits and pieces,” she said again. She was twenty-four years old, though for some reason telling a man you barely know that you bought him underwear was like a five-year-old saying a naughty word for the first time and then giggling hysterically.
“Sophie,” he warned, his voice low, his patience clearly at an end.
“Oh fine, I bought you some clothes, shorts and stuff.”
“You did? How do you know my size?”
“I guessed.”
“That’s really nice of you, thanks.” He had such a friendly smile when he dropped the suspicion and frustration. In that moment she was selfishly glad he couldn’t see her. That smile did things to her insides, her stomach flipped over and her answering smile was bright enough to power a small city.
“Well, do you want to get out of your clothes?” There she went again, his smile still had her off tilt. She really had to remember to think about what she wanted to say before blurting the first thing to cross her mind.
But he laughed. It was a genuine laugh, not at her but her words. She had a hard time keeping the grin from her face.
She threw the shopping bag onto his lap and with another blush went to her bedroom to put on the new bikini she’d bought. She wanted to spend what was left of the day relaxing by the hotel’s roof top pool. She told herself she wasn’t running away from him, from his sexy-as-hell smile. She just needed to be outside in the fresh air and regroup her thoughts.
Grabbing up her towel she walked back into the lounge area to find him standing just outside his room wearing the shorts and t-shirt. She stopped dead in her tracks. He looked even more amazing in casual clothes. He could have walked straight off the cover of a magazine. Her mouth actually watered. She cleared her throat and bit down on her tongue. She would not lick her lips.
“I look stupid don’t I?” He pulled at the bottom of the shirt and then fiddled with the buttons undone at his throat.
“You look great,” she breathed, and then coughed to cover how husky her voice had emerged. Way to play it cool. Silence reigned for a few moments before she cleared her throat and announced awkwardly that she was going for a swim.
“Do you mind if I tag along?” he asked. “I’ve been cooped up for too long.”
“Sure.” Sophie took his arm but then wished she hadn’t. Skin on skin made her thoughts once again go to places they shouldn’t.
She pressed the button for the elevator again. Twice. In the few moments it took for the doors to slide open she looked him over in the reflection of the gleaming stainless steel. His feet were bare, his legs stark white against the green of the shorts but his arms were deeply tanned. He must spend a lot of time outdoors but in slacks rather than shorts.
As if reading her mind, or just sensing her gaze, he said, “I don’t wear shorts much.”
“You didn’t have to put them on,” she pointed out with a nervy chuckle at being caught out staring. Did blind people have a sixth sense for it?
“When in Rome,” he shrugged. “What are you wearing?”
“I am going for a swim,” she said, the blush back and as hot as ever. Even though he couldn’t see her she felt incredibly self-conscious in the two piece, a towel slung low on her hips. She had never blushed so much in her life. Once upon a time she’d been the type of strong woman who rarely got embarrassed at all let alone enough to blush. Once upon a time she hadn’t cared what people thought about her. But that was before. Now she was glad he couldn’t see her. Couldn’t read the emotions she didn’t have the energy to hide.
He was about to say something else when the elevator dinged, they got in and she pressed the button with the pool icon next to it.
The elevator stopped a few times on the way up to collect more people with the same idea. She wondered how many were already up there. Not that she minded if there were a few other guests around. That would stop him from asking any more questions about what she was wearing.
She hoped.
When finally the lift stopped, they stepped out into the brilliant sunshine. The first thing Sophie noticed was the enormous swimming pool, the next was that the fences around two sides of the top of the building were made of high glass or Perspex. They were completely clear. It made her feel like they were standing on top of the whole city. There were other people in and around the pool but not so many as to be crowded. She scanned the faces quickly for Max but found it hard to believe he would have found her there already.
Guiding Brandan over to a chair, she lined him up and pushed his shoulder like she’d done a few times now to let him know he could sit, but this time he kept standing. People were openly staring at them. They must look like they were having a ‘moment’. More likely they stared at the brilliant, bright bruising on his cheeks, seemingly worsening with every hour.
“What are you doing?” she murmured.
“I don’t want to sit down.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going for a swim too.”
“Oh?”
“I take it these shorts won’t become transparent when wet?”
“No.”
“Are they red or purple or some other rich colour?”
“No, I wouldn’t have you look like an idiot.”
“Well then, which way to the water? I’m hot.” He smiled that disarming smile again. The one that made her breath catch in her throat and her knees nearly give out.
She turned around and spread her towel on a timber sun chair. When she turned back he’d taken...his shirt...off. If she thought the sight of his smile was disconcerting, the sight of his bare chest was enough to make her heart stop altogether. And she could look her fill. He would never know.
Her eyes did a slow perusal of his very well-formed upper body, and some of his lower. He had only a sprinkling of light hair on his chest and above his short’s line. The space between was ridged with tight muscles. He had more than a six pack. This time she did lick her lips.
“Are you done?” he asked, his voice breaking into her carnal thoughts, his grin warming her insides.
Surely that was a general question? Or had she just been busted perving twice in the space of ten minutes? She nearly groaned.
Sophie wasted no time steering him to the pool to show him where the steps were, telling him it was the shallow end and that he should stay close to the sides.
“Yes mum,” he replied with another laugh.
“I wish she was my mum,” a voice snickered a little way down the pool.
“I’ll just stay with you down here for a bit,” she said, hastily climbing in after him, gasping as the cold enveloped her. She hated being the focus of anyone’s attention. She also began to regret wearing a bikini but she didn’t have time to search for the perfect suit, nor the budget. The water was refreshingly cold and helped to take her mind off the comments from the sleazeball.
“Don’t listen to him,” Brandan told her, twining his fingers with hers in the water. Once again she thought it uncanny that he could tell where she was, where here hand was.
“So, Mr McAllister,” she said in a serious voice, desperate to veer the conversation away from awkward and back to him. “Tell me about yourself.”
“There isn’t much to tell really.”
“Oh, I think you can do better than that.” She laughed when his lips set once again into that grim expression he favoured.
“I’ll do you a deal. I’ll tell you a little about me but only of you tell me more about you.” He put his other hand out presumably for her to shake but he hadn’t let go of the first one yet.
“Nothing too personal?” She eyed him warily.
“Deal.”
“Deal,” she said and shook his hand only to have both of hers captured in his. He stroked his thumbs over the backs of her hands, turning her palms up on the surface of the cool water presumably so he could feel the texture with his fingers. She shivered and extricated her limbs from his grasp. It grew harder and harder to stay calm, to think straight, when he touched her. When he was nice to her. When he wasn’t the demanding bachelor and was instead just a normal, hot, blind guy who needed her touch.
“First question?” he asked eagerly, interrupting where her thoughts were going again.
“Um, how old were you when you made your first million?”
“That’s easy. Don’t you read gossip magazines?”
“Is
that your question?” she asked, trying not to laugh.
“No. I came into some money when my godmother died. She left half for me and half for my sister. I invested some and bought a small construction company with what was left. And the rest, as they say, is history.”
“You must be very good with money.”
“I am.”
Sophie grinned at his frankness.
Brandan drew a breath, his chest lifting. “Are you wearing a one-piece or two?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“A damn good one,” he said, his hands drifting in the water, looking for her.
She sidestepped with a laugh. “Two.”
“Have you ever been married?” she asked. She recalled something about a bachelor of the year contest but found it impossible to believe he was unattached.
“Yes,” came his curt reply. Perhaps that had been too personal but then he said, “I don’t think I have ever met a woman who didn’t read magazines.”
“Again, is that a question?”
“No. What colour?”
“What?”
“What colour is your two-piece suit?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Is that your question?” He used her tactic against her in their awkward dance for knowledge.
“Red.”
He growled. It was a low rumble that came up from his stomach and out through his lips. A shiver tiptoed along her shoulder blades as he came closer. This time she didn’t back away. “Why do you want to know?”
“I don’t know anything about you,” he admitted. “What you look like, how you dress. Does your face light up when you smile?”
“Why didn’t you just ask?” her voice betrayed her and waivered, her stomach flip-flopped again.
“I am.”
“Well, what if I told you I was hideously ugly, chubby and bald?”
“I would say you sound like a middle-aged man,” he laughed. “Anyway I don’t know any hideously ugly, chubby bald women who wear red bikinis.”
Blind Passion Page 5
