Mitch laughed, but it was laughter free of mockery. ‘I’m not so famous that I’m harassed by paparazzi buzzing overhead in helicopters.’
‘Just being sure,’ she said. ‘I would hate to see a blurry photo of us on the internet, with a reference to myself as the “mystery brunette” seen making out with Mitch Bailey in his luxurious Bali villa.’
‘Not going to happen,’ he said.
‘You’re sure of that?’ she said, with more than a touch of worry.
Mitch trailed a finger along the curve of her jaw, sending a jolt of awareness through every pleasure receptor in her body. ‘What happens in your villa stays in your villa,’ he said. ‘I don’t want publicity either.’
‘I’d still be happier if we went inside,’ she said.
The walls were high, but she would prefer to be behind closed doors with Mitch, safe from any curious eyes.
‘Just one thing before we go,’ he said.
He picked up a frangipani blossom and tucked in behind her ear, making it a caress.
The gesture undid her. Who knew Mitch could be so romantic?
‘Thank you,’ she said with a slow smile. ‘I love the scent.’
‘And a second thing...’
He reached over and undid the knot that secured her beach towel so it fell to the ground.
* * *
Zoe in his arms. Zoe kissing him. Zoe wanting him to stay with her.
There was nothing he wanted more.
But, much as he ached to pick her up and carry her into her bedroom, Mitch knew he had to slow things down.
For all Zoe’s sassiness and smarts, Mitch sensed a vulnerability about her that had not lessened since he’d known her as a recently bereaved seventeen-year-old. The foundations of her life had been yanked out from underneath her. This earthquake had shaken them some more—and he didn’t just mean literally.
He wanted to take up her invitation. But he wanted her to be sure what she was letting herself in for. He could not damage her further.
As soon as they got inside the villa Zoe tilted her face to his. Her flawless skin was flushed, her brown eyes luminous with desire, and her lips were parted on a half-smile that was so seductive he caught his breath. Laughing that low, husky laugh, as though she knew her power over him, she pulled him to her for another urgent kiss.
When the kiss threatened to get out of control he broke away, smoothed her hair—drying now into a dark mass of waves—from around from her face, and secured the flower behind her ear. He liked the way it looked there—exotic, sensual. Then he cupped her face in his hands, looked deep into her eyes.
He had to clear his throat to speak. ‘Before we go any further we have to be sure. This is all there can be for us. Tonight.’
She laughed a husky, strangled laugh. ‘Tonight might be all we ever have. We could wake up to find ourselves floating out to sea.’
‘There’s that,’ he said. ‘But—’
She put a finger to his lips to silence him.
He moved it away, then slipped his fingers through hers and firmly held her hand by her side.
‘This has to be said.’
He was trying to be the sensible one here, when all he could think of was how much he wanted Zoe.
She made a pretend pout, which astounded him, and had him fighting the temptation to kiss her again.
‘I don’t want to waste any more time talking,’ she murmured.
He groaned. Did she know what she was doing to him? He gave in to temptation and planted a quick kiss on her lovely mouth. But that was it until they’d got this sorted. He wanted her—but he did not want her hurt.
‘You’re amazing, Zoe. Gorgeous. Fun. Smart as ever. A surprise. But there’s no room for a serious relationship in my life. Not for years. Not until I’m thirty. Maybe thirty-five. I was at the top of my game when I got injured. I have to prove myself all over again. I can’t afford...emotional entanglements.’
She shook her head and made a little murmur of impatience. ‘Can’t you see I’m not looking beyond tonight? The world as we know it could be wiped out—I want to take the chance for us to be together while we can. You were wonderful when you were a teenager and you’ve grown into a wonderful man. All the qualities you had then are still there, and more. I want to spend this night with you. No matter what tomorrow might bring.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, moved by her words.
Back then, he realised, she had seen potential in him that others hadn’t; only Zoe had recognised him as more than a good-looking jock.
‘I could say the same about you.’
There was a wistful edge to her smile. ‘Thank you. But, as I said earlier, we live on different planets. I’m not expecting more from you than this one night.’
He started to say something but she put her finger across his mouth again.
‘I want you. But I wouldn’t want a relationship with someone in the public eye—a man who belongs to his fans, not one hundred per cent to me. I’d be miserable with someone who travels the world while I’m left at home, torturing myself with thoughts about the women who might be throwing themselves at him. I’m a private person. I don’t want the world to know me because of the man I’m with. I...I could never be a WAG.’
Though her words made absolute sense, he found them more than a touch insulting. That was his life. And it was the best life a guy could have. It was all he wanted. For him it wasn’t about the kudos, the fame, the money. It was about the game.
‘That’s a lot about what you don’t want,’ he said. ‘Now let’s hear what you do want, Zoe.’
She pulled one of those faces he found so appealing. ‘We’ve established it’s ridiculously romantic of me, but one day I want a real, for ever kind of love.’
‘Like your parents had?’
She nodded. ‘Not just for me, but for my children. I had the happiest childhood you can imagine. It was erratic. We moved from one shared household to another. From one failed venture to another. And at the age of ten I knew how to lie to a debt collector. But I was secure in the love my parents had for each other and for me. I want to love and be loved on that scale. I...I think I value it so much because it was wrenched away from me.’
‘And that happened not long before I first knew you.’ He felt a surge of anger against his younger self, who had hurt her at a time when she hadn’t needed more hurt added to her burden.
‘When you first knew me I was like a...like a creature who had been wrenched from its cocoon way too soon and thrown into the harsh reality of life with a grandmother who resented me.’
Mitch realised his parents also had a good marriage. They argued. There was noise and fireworks. But they were happy, and they’d raised well-balanced, successful sons. It was a fine goal to aspire to. Just not yet. Marriage right now would seem like a trap.
‘I guess that’s what I want too, one day. But not now.’
He’d made a lot of sacrifices to get where he was. Since he’d left school he hadn’t had what most people would call a ‘normal’ life. Giving up any thought of a permanent relationship was another sacrifice he was more than happy to make. But if he could have Zoe for tonight—for one night—that would be something very special.
She looked up to him. ‘Mitch, you asked me what I really want...’
‘Yes. And you told me.’
‘I told you what I want for the future. Ask me what I want for now.’
‘I’m asking you,’ he said, his voice hoarse with need.
Her eyes were huge and her mouth quivered. ‘I want you, Mitch. Just you.’
He could not resist her any longer.
With a groan, he lifted her up to sit on the edge of the countertop. She wound her arms around his neck, her thighs gripping his waist as he held her to him. He kissed her mouth, deep and demanding, then pressed urgent, hungry kisses down the smooth column of her throat as she arched her body to his.
He hoped his kisses would transmit everything he couldn’t say about how
glad he was to be with her on this night, when they didn’t know what they might wake up to the next hour, the next day. He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her—until kissing was no longer enough.
* * *
Zoe was woken by the soft, insistent buzzing of her mobile phone to let her know there was a text message for her.
For a moment she didn’t know where she was. She blinked against the early-morning light filtering in through the louvered doors. Heard that noisy rooster greeting the dawn.
She was in Bali. Still alive. With Mitch.
Mitch.
He lay beside her on his back, the sheets rumpled around his hips, his arms flung above his head in total relaxation. Her breath caught at how beautiful he was. Beautiful wasn’t a word she’d normally use to describe a man, but it fitted Mitch. His smooth skin was gilded by the sunlight, his face rough with golden stubble she wanted to reach over and stroke. But she didn’t want to risk waking him.
Her heart gave a huge, painful lurch at the thought that she would most likely never see him again. But if she’d woken up alone this morning she would have always regretted it.
Cautiously, so as not to disturb him, she reached over to her phone and slid the buzzer off. It was a message from the airline. Her plane back to Sydney was on schedule. She needed to be at the airport in two hours. That just gave her time to have breakfast with Mitch. To say goodbye.
No.
She couldn’t bear that.
This kind of situation was a first for her. She could only imagine how awkward and embarrassing it would be to face him. Last night with Mitch had been perfect. She wanted to keep its perfection encapsulated in her mind for ever. Not sullied by awkward goodbyes, murmured promises they both knew would never be fulfilled.
Besides, she rationalised, the Ngurah Rai International Airport at Denpasar was sure to be bedlam because of the earthquake and its aftershock. She wanted to make sure she got on that plane and out of here; she didn’t think she could cope with another tremor.
She looked back at Mitch, breathing deeply and evenly in her bed. They’d both got what they’d needed from each other at a time of threat and uncertainty. Comfort. Reassurance. Sex.
Oh, yes. Sex such as she’d never imagined. Sex that had seen her soaring to unimaginable heights of pleasure with Mitch. Again and again. Then again, when they’d woken some time after midnight, turned into each other’s arms, laughed at the fact that they could still want each other after all the satisfaction they’d already given each other, and once more made love.
Afterwards they’d crept outside to the courtyard in the moonlight and polished off their abandoned desserts—even her melted ice cream—whispering and stifling their laughter when Mitch had threatened to crow out loud like a rooster.
They’d finally gone to sleep entwined in each other’s arms.
Now, she supported herself on her elbow as she admired him for the last time—his handsome face, his finely honed athlete’s body. In repose, his features looked much as when she’d first met him as a teenager, but layered now with the strength and character of a successful man.
For a fleeting, heart-wrenching moment she wished that things could be different.
She could so easily fall in love with Mitch.
She acknowledged the thought before she pummelled it, vanquished it, shoved it away into the furthest corner of her heart, never to be acknowledged again.
She slid out from the sheets as silently as she could. Mitch murmured in his sleep, threw out an arm across her abandoned pillow. She stilled. Held her breath. Waited a heartbeat, then another. But he didn’t wake up.
She crept to the bathroom, then haphazardly flung her stuff into the wheeled carry-on bag that was her only luggage. She regretted the lack of the batik bikini; she should have bought it when she saw it. She tugged a brush through her hair...decided to put on her make-up at the airport.
As quietly as she could she checked the closet, the bathroom, the hooks behind the bathroom door for anything she might have left behind. Before she slid on her shoes she tiptoed into the bedroom for a final silent farewell to the special man who had brought her body alive with so much pleasure last night.
She could not resist bringing her face to his and pressing a butterfly-light kiss on his beard-roughened cheek.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
Her heart caught at his sleepy murmur in response, at his faint smile. But he was still asleep.
She filled her memories with one final look at him. Then she turned and walked out through her hotel room, past the still waters of the pool, where three pink frangipani blossoms floated on the surface, and through the ornately carved wooden gate that led to the outside without looking back.
* * *
Mitch woke to bright sunlight that made him screw his eyes up against it. Zoe. Memories of the night he’d spent with her came flooding back.
‘Stay with me,’ he murmured, still half asleep.
He rolled over, seeking her, wanting to pull her close. He could smell her scent on his pillow, on him. But he was alone in Zoe’s king-size hotel bed, the sheets next to him crumpled and cold.
Fully awake now, he strained to hear if she was in the shower. But the door to the adjoining bathroom was open and no one was in there.
‘Zoe?’ he called.
He swung himself out of the bed.
‘Are you there?’ His voice echoed in the empty stillness of the room.
Then he noticed the closet door, ajar so he could see where a row of empty hangers swung. A drawer had been left slightly open.
Naked, he padded out into the living area. He looked through the sliding glass doors to the empty pool area. Plates and glasses lay haphazardly on the round table where they’d left them after their post-midnight snack.
Then he noticed the stack of Indonesian rupiah near the telephone. ‘For the maid—thank you,’ was written in a bold, slanted hand on a piece of hotel notepaper.
She was gone.
He sank onto the sofa, stabbed by a feeling he couldn’t put a name to. Loss. Regret. Loneliness.
The pain of it made him double over, his elbows on his knees, his head cradled in his hands. Zoe. What an amazing woman. Last night had been like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Her lithe, slender body. Her generous mouth. Her laughter. Her warmth. Her wit. The thoughtfulness and tenderness that was innate to her.
Zoe.
He wanted to roar out her name so she could hear him wherever she was—at the airport, on the plane. Hear him and come back to him.
But that couldn’t be.
He had a difficult road ahead of him. Starting over. Fighting for his place in every game. Proving to the naysayers that his knee injury had not relegated him to the status of a once great player.
He could not be distracted by a woman. And Zoe would be a major distraction. She was a for ever kind of woman—and for ever was a long way away from him. She deserved more than what he had to give.
The game. The Beautiful Game. That was the important thing.
A woman he could love—that had to come later.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Two months later
ZOE WAS STANDING by her desk, checking that all the documents she needed for that morning’s important meeting in the city were loaded on her tablet. She was concentrating hard, but at the back of her mind she was aware of her senior accountant, Louise, chatting with someone at the external door to the office.
Her business—The Right Note: Accountancy and Tax—occupied the ground floor of a converted warehouse, part of a complex in Balmain. Zoe’s living space was on the mezzanine level above.
She hoped the person at the door wasn’t a client, hoping for an unscheduled appointment. That was the trouble with a client base drawn from musicians, writers, artists and entertainers—their idea of time didn’t always match hers.
A glance at her watch told her she had time to catch the 9:15 a.m. ferry for the twenty-minute ride from Balmain in
to the city—but not a lot to spare.
She’d come to a crossroads with her business, and today’s meeting with a potential buyer might help her decide which path to take. She needed to be at her most alert for the appointment—not flustered from being late. Louise would have to deal with the client.
Then Louise was by her side, her face flushed with excitement. ‘Zoe, you’ve got no idea who’s at the door, wanting to see you. Mitch Bailey.’
Zoe was too taken aback to do anything but stare at Louise.
‘You know—the soccer player—the really hot one,’ Louise added, her intonation implying that any red-blooded woman who didn’t know who Mitch Bailey was needed her head read.
Zoe felt the blood drain from her face. Her heart started to hammer and a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm her. Her hand went suddenly nerveless and her tablet started to slip from her grasp.
Louise caught the tablet and placed it on Zoe’s desk. ‘That’s how I’d react if Mitch Bailey came to see me,’ she said in a low, excited tone. ‘He’s even better-looking in person. Those eyes really are the most amazing green. And his smile... Wow!’ Louise paused when she didn’t get any reaction. ‘Are you okay, Zoe?’
Zoe nodded. Cleared her throat. ‘Of course I’m okay,’ she choked out, in a reasonable facsimile of her normal speaking voice.
Mitch was here?
Louise nattered on. ‘Do you think he’s come to see us as a client? Someone might have recommended us to him. He wouldn’t say. Just wants to see you. He’s in the waiting area.’
Zoe cleared her throat. ‘I...I’ll see him.’ She dragged in some deep, steadying breaths.
Mitch.
What was he doing in Sydney? What was he doing here?
As far as she knew Mitch was in Madrid, but her information wasn’t up to date. On her return from Bali she’d found it impossible to stop thinking about him. Reliving over and over again the magical hours they’d shared at the villa. Every day she’d scoured the press for mentions of him, checked his official social media pages.
Ultimately she’d found it too distracting, too painful.
From Paradise...to Pregnant! Page 7
