Blind Passion

by Bronwyn Stuart

  “Maybe I’m proud of my extra curves,” she replied indignantly.

  He stepped forward in the water, so much closer this time, and reached out for her. She meant to resist, to step away from him, she really did, but his hands, when they grasped her hips and pulled her forward, felt so good, so firm and in control.

  His palms skated down over the edges of her bikini to the outside of her thighs and back up, over her hips, his fingertips brushing over her backside, until his thumbs rested tantalisingly close to the undersides of her breasts.

  “Definitely not chubby,” he confirmed, his voice pitched low, seductive.

  She swallowed once, twice, wished she could see his eyes, wished she knew what he was thinking beyond the blatantly obvious.

  Suddenly there was splash of cold water. “Get a room,” the same voice from earlier called.

  Sophie flinched and tried to push away but Brandan wouldn’t have it. “One more question,” he begged, holding her a fraction firmer, a fraction closer.

  “What?” she whispered.

  Silence filled the space of five heartbeats, she counted them, tried to distract her rocketing pulse, and then he spoke. “You’ll need to help me to get out of the pool.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t know what he was going to say but she was sure that wasn’t it. After all it wasn’t even a question. She couldn’t help but think there was something else but then he’d changed his mind at the last second. Probably not a bad thing. Or maybe he was just used to her cutting and running already. For almost two years she’d run from everything, hidden from everything. The only thing that had kept her half sane was her job. She had to remember she was safe here with Brandan. No one knew where she was or how to find her.

  After drying off, they reclined on the beds in the hot Queensland sun and relaxed in silence. Sophie kept throwing glances in his direction. She thought maybe if she looked at him long enough she could reason why he had held her so intimately, why he hadn’t wanted to let her go and why he made her so twitchy and warm. She’d married the first guy she’d met out of highschool and had only been with him in all that time. Other guys didn’t make her hot anywhere let alone in the places this almost-stranger did.

  Less than twenty-four hours had passed since they’d met and already he made her heart jump and her thoughts scatter. She didn’t want a relationship. She didn’t even want no-strings-attached-sex with a gorgeous rich man. All she wanted was to be left alone in peace to sort out her miserable life. To pick up the pieces and put them back together, to figure out where she fitted in the world and what to do next with her life.

  When did he ever suggest sex? her subconscious screamed. She knew why he wanted to know what she looked like and it wasn’t to create a mental picture. He just wanted to make sure she wasn’t making him look bad when they were seen together. Stupid over-inflated male ego. He probably thought people would recognise him. It was a wonder he didn’t have his own paparazzi following him around.

  She wanted to believe that that was it, that he didn’t find her attractive, that there was no sensual pull for him when he touched her. Maybe it was because she was there and he was there and he was obviously feeling vulnerable and craved contact.

  She tried to convince herself, but Sophie wasn’t dumb. She had been once and had nearly paid with her life.

  She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  Ever.

  Chapter Eight

  He was being stared at. It wasn’t an uneasy prickle on the back of Brandan’s neck that alerted him. It was the scorching path Sophie’s gaze left in its wake that said it was nothing to worry about. Brandan had felt the same back in the hotel and then again when he had taken his shirt off for a swim. She was definitely looking at him. The silence was charged with tension and he’d bet it all came from her.

  His face split into a cat-got-into-the-cream grin.

  He was affecting her. Her response in the pool was as evident as the sunshine on the lower half of his face. Brandan wondered if it would be unethical or morally reprehensible to seduce her? She was being paid to look after him so therefore she was an employee and he had a thing about not getting involved with his staff.

  Then again... She had asked him for help. She had asked him if she could stay. He still didn’t know if he believed the whole story about the stalker. When he found out the truth, then he could decide if he could throw caution to the wind and have some fun. It had been too long and she was giving him all kinds of green light signals.

  In the meantime he would have to be happy just to enjoy her company, maybe tease her a little.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  She choked. Or at least that’s what it sounded like.

  She had been staring at the bruises around the bandages on his head when a grin had lit up his features. His question was probably innocent but since her mind was already half in the gutter she misinterpreted his meaning and flushed brighter than the red of her bikini.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she squeaked in between coughs.

  “So, is it dinner time?”

  Sophie glanced at her watch, willing her racing heart to slow down. “I suppose. Do you want to stay in or go out?”

  “I don’t fancy making a spectacle of myself by having you cut my steak for me in public so I’m all for staying in.”

  They got into the elevator to go back to their room and get ready for dinner but Sophie couldn’t organise her thoughts at all. How was she going to get through a week holding her barriers in place the whole time? She was already exhausted and she just didn’t have the energy to both fight her feelings and to keep from falling apart. She couldn’t exactly avoid him though. She’d agreed to be his eyes.

  Why the hell had she agreed to be his eyes?

  When the doors swished open they were met by sound of his cell phone ringing. Sophie rushed into the room and picked it up off the coffee table automatically answering it so he wouldn’t miss the call.

  “Mr McAllister’s phone,” she said brightly.

  “And here I thought I was the only secretary in Brandan’s life,” a voice laughed on the other end of the line.

  “Sorry, guess I was closer.” Should she not have answered it? She could have pushed the button and then handed the phone back to him. “I’ll get Bran- Mr McAllister for you.”

  She handed him the phone, their fingers brushing. She snatched her hand away and mumbled something about needing a shower.

  “Hello?” Brandan said into the phone, listening to Sophie’s retreating footsteps and the slam of her door. He shuffled his feet with one hand in front of him until he found the edge of the sofa.

  “Are you having an affair with another PA?” Gloria asked him good-naturedly.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “I got that info for you, if you still want it?” she dangled.

  “Of course I do. Get on with it.”

  “Well, a Max Wright escaped from a prisoner transport this morning in Adelaide. He had been serving eighteen months for stalking and attacking his wife.”

  “Is there anything else?” he grated out.

  She was telling the truth. If he ever got his hands on that no-good husband of hers he would kill him. He wasn’t the type of man to sit around while women were assaulted by their spouses, or by anyone for that matter.

  “Only that the detective in charge says they will have him back in custody very soon.”

  “Any mention of the wife?”

  “Not really. No name or anything, just that he was exercising an appeal process which was why he was on his way to court.”

  “Hmm.” He didn’t like it. He didn’t want Sophie to be in danger.

  “Boss?” Gloria asked hesitantly.

  “What is it?”

  “What has this got to do with you?”

  “Nothing, it’s just a story I heard.”

  She wasn’t convinced nor was she done asking questions. “Who’s the wo
man who answered the phone?”

  “My carer for the week. I need to organise some money to pay her. Can you make sure there is a few thousand in the Mastercard I can withdraw as cash?”

  “Sure, but wouldn’t it be better as a bank transfer?”

  “Gloria,” he warned. She was great at her job because she didn’t ask questions. Now was not a good time for her to become inquisitive.

  “Okay, okay, we’ll do it your way. Anything else?”

  “No thank you.” He disconnected the call.

  Well, well. The minx had been telling the truth. But not the whole truth. She’d left out the part about being attacked although he recalled her mentioning domestic abuse. The thought of being her knight in shining armour did things to his masculinity but then his brain butted in. He couldn’t protect her. He’d already told her that.

  What he could do was take her mind off her troubles. He was very good with diversion tactics. Reality came crashing down on him for a moment. What if her husband had attacked her sexually and Sophie would only resent him if he made steps to get into her bed? His fists clenched. What if he made a move and she ran again? Right into danger?

  If not for all of the events leading up to this very moment, having the accident, meeting her on the plane, her husband escaping from jail, he never would have met her. She wouldn’t be twenty feet away in the shower at this very moment. Naked.

  He definitely shouldn’t make a move while she was so vulnerable. The shallowness of her breath and the way her pulse jumped beneath his hands in the pool told him she wouldn’t not welcome his advances. He wasn’t a completely heartless ass. Maybe he would take the situation as it came. Maybe she would be more than willing to indulge for a few days. It could be mutually satisfying for both of them.

  He groaned, he’d had her in his arms nearly naked except for a scrap of a bikini and it had been heaven. It had grounded him so fully that he’d almost forgotten about the pain in his head and the darkness behind his eyes.

  This was going to be a long few days if he couldn’t touch her, flirt with her, have her. He damned her husband to hell again and went in search of his own cool shower. He had a feeling he was going to be spending a lot of time in there over the days to come.

  ~

  Sophie was feeling more than a little bit guilty by the time their dinner arrived. Queensland was in the grips of one of the worst droughts the state had ever experienced and she had had a shower, a bath and a swim all in one day. She was normally an environmentally friendly person but being around Brandan seemed to turn her into an addlebrained half-wit. While she’d read the menu to him earlier, his nearness on the sofa had her stumbling over the words and even get a few mixed up like she’d only just learned to read or that English was her second language. She’d wanted to get up, to move away from him, but that would have been the equivalent of admitting how disturbing she found him.

  “Do you want a drink?” she asked, now that there was some space between them.

  “Sure.”

  She poured him a white wine from the bottle he’d had sent up earlier. Before the swim. Before the thrill of his hands on her body nearly made her completely silly. Her lips tingled at the thought of how close they had come to kissing. She wondered what he would taste like, how he would kiss.

  She shook her head at herself. Why would she need to know that? She was quite determined to make sure she never found out. How could one man’s touch ignite her senses the way his had? Early on in her relationship with Max, the butterflies in her stomach had taken her breath away over and over. It was the reason she’d married a man who her parents and family warned her against until they’d given up on her completely.

  He’d excited and thrilled her with his bad boy ways. But that particular shine had dulled more and more as she discovered her husband wasn’t as mentally stable as she’d believed.

  “Do you want to eat on the balcony?” Brandan asked, thankfully bringing her back to the here and now.

  It was a beautiful night, the air hot, humid and sweet. Scents from the ocean and a nearby bougainvillea mingled to create a romantic atmosphere no matter how hard Sophie tried to keep it business as usual.

  “Is it clear?” Brandan asked her when they were seated, his feet tilted up on the railing.

  “Is what clear?”

  “The sunset, is it clear?”

  “No, there are a few clouds.”

  He sighed. “Can’t you give me more than that?”

  “I don’t know what you want from me?” she sighed in return. All the mixed-up emotions inside of her wanted a way out. Now.

  She should have stayed in her room until the meal arrived. She should stay away from him. Far, far away. She was so used to being on her own that it was hard to be comfortable in his presence especially with the almost perceptible crackling of energy between them. She doubted it was one-sided.

  “I can’t see Sophie. Have you got any idea how difficult it is being in the dark?”

  It must really hurt for him to admit how powerless he is, dependant completely on her, a person he doesn’t even know. It would be worse than being with a stranger, she thought, closing her eyes. Just for a few minutes she could imagine being in the dark, alone and scared. But then she could open her eyes. She could see the magnificent sunset, the clouds turning a deep red, their reflection mirrored on the surface of the calm sea.

  She could see him.

  “Blonde,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “I have blond hair, blue eyes, I’m five feet eight inches and sometimes I snort when I laugh too hard.”

  “You’re not chubby or bald?” he asked, with a hand over his chest, feigning surprise as he leaned forward in his chair.

  She chuckled. “No.”

  “Well that is a relief,” he laughed. “Freckles?”

  “None.”

  “Dimples?”

  “Maybe.” She could practically hear his mind ticking away.

  “Oh, come on, throw the man a bone...” he begged in his rich American accent.

  “Ok, all right I have dimples. What self-respecting blonde ex-cheerleader wouldn’t have dimples?”

  “Cheerleader?” Sure, that got his full attention. “In Australia?”

  “Well, the equivalent. Our teams still need to be cheered on. I don’t think it matters what country you come from.”

  “A sports fanatic then?”

  “Never that,” she laughed. He asked a lot of questions but at least they were neutral. He had the basics now, what she looked like. The stereotype she gave would have to paint a picture. She just wasn’t sure if that was the picture she wanted him to have. Why did she have to say cheerleader? She could have reminded him she was a flight attendant or just simply that, yes, she did indeed have dimples that appeared when she smiled. It was one of the things Max had loved about her.

  She immediately sobered, all good cheer draining away. He had no place here, in this time, in their relaxed companionship, in their conversation. Sophie knew inevitably she would have to tell Brandan the full story, he would ask and she wouldn’t lie about it.

  “You’ve gone quiet. What are you thinking about?” he asked her softly.

  She didn’t want their conversation to turn too serious so she put all thoughts of her deranged ex out of her head and tried to focus on the days ahead.

  “That you ask too many questions.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I know what it’s like to be frightened.”

  Just then the elevator dinged and their food arrived. A waiter quietly wheeled the table into the lounge and left as unobtrusively, not even waiting for a tip or to see if they needed anything else. The spacious suite was soon filled with the aromas of bacon and pepper and garlic as Sophie arranged their pasta dishes on the outside table. She poured more wine and then sat down to start eating. The food looked delicious. She’d ordered the same as Brandan because she didn’t want him to feel
bad that she could eat steak when he didn’t want to.

  He was being obstinate, not letting her cut it up for him, but he had made his wishes quite plain. He was already so dependent on her, he probably wouldn’t concede much else.

  “Tell me more about you,” she said between mouthfuls.

  “There isn’t much to tell,” he shrugged. “I was wounded on a building site in a careless accident.”

  “Not about your face, although don’t get me wrong it looks pretty bad.”

  “Does it make me look scary or forbidding?”

  She laughed. “Not really. Just purple and green and bandaged. More Egyptian mummy than monster.”

  He joined in her laughter. “Thanks, I think.”

  “Do you have any other siblings besides your sister? Do you have a dog? Where do you live?”

  “No, no and everywhere.”

  “Come on...” She’d told him things, now it was his turn.

  “All right. My sister Michaela lives not far from here actually, with her husband and kids.”

  Sophie felt a pang at his words. Husband and kids. Husband and kids. The harmless words bounced around painfully inside her brain.

  “She married an Australian?” she asked, trying to keep the small talk going while she caught her breath and calmed her thoughts.

  “Yes. An architect.”

  “Wow. You said she had money left to her as well?”

  “What has that got to do with anything?” he asked, suddenly on the defensive.

  “Only that it would be nice to have that kind of financial security. Successful husband, money in the bank.”

  “Were things really that bad in your marriage?”

  “No,” she said, looking down at her plate. “Not in the beginning.”

  “What changed?”

  “I really don’t think we should talk about this, not yet.”

  “Okay, let’s talk about something else then.” He immediately switched back to talk of his sister and her kids.

  Little did he know she’d stopped listening. Silent tears slid down her cheeks. Tears at the life she would never get to live. Tears for the lost love she would never get back. And most of all, tears for the life she should have been living right now, not making small talk with a handsome businessman in a hotel. The life where she didn’t have to look over her shoulder, where she didn’t have to scrimp and save her money and where she could just be happy, be herself.