by Nicola Marsh
He hadn’t intended on laying a hand on her earlier but when she’d opened the door and he’d taken one look at her in that sexy gold dress he’d lost it. Completely.
Though it hadn’t been all bad. She’d responded to his kiss, had kissed him back with the same unbridled passion they’d had in Bendigo and it gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t so crazy in still wanting her, that despite her calculated indifference she still wanted him too.
‘Hector loves the Arias. Loves it when Landry’s recording artists win gongs, loves the vibe, loves—’
‘The girls?’
He raised an eyebrow as Pop left the dance floor with two young girls a quarter his age on each arm.
‘Looks like he’s not the only one.’
She pointed to Storm, who’d just been inducted into the rock-and-roll hall of fame, and was celebrating with a curvy blonde on each arm.
‘Why aren’t you out there partying?’
‘Because I’m right where I want to be.’
He risked taking her hand, not surprised when she slid it out from his on the pretext of having a sip of her Pinot Noir.
He shouldn’t have kissed her earlier, shouldn’t have pushed his luck but no way in hell was he sorry for it.
‘So you’re flying out after the concert tomorrow night?’
She was trying to make small-talk, to prevent the focus from potentially getting onto shaky ground—namely them—but if he didn’t give this one last shot now he’d never know.
‘Yeah, some big shindig in London the next evening I need to attend.’
‘Straight back into the fray for you, then?’
‘Yeah, I guess.’
She wasn’t judging him but he heard the resignation in her voice, wondered why the thought of him leaving was hitting her this hard, especially when she hadn’t wanted a bar of him over the past week.
They’d flirted, they’d connected, they’d had one afternoon of monumental sex and that was it. Why was she so maudlin at the thought of him leaving?
Unless …
No. No way. Surely she wasn’t emotionally invested?
Was that why she’d backed off? To stop from getting in deeper?
Man, he was such an idiot. Why hadn’t he seen it sooner? If anyone should know about emotional avoidance, he should. It had been a major reason he’d run all those years ago, couldn’t bear getting attached to the only family he had left for fear Pop would eventually reject him too.
Pop’s overtures to close the gap between them back then had been stilted at best and if his grandfather hadn’t been able to love him unreservedly as a kid, what chance would he have had later?
Much easier to cut and run and not risk further problems and, in a way, their cool relationship over the years vindicated the choice he’d made. Pop and he weren’t close and, while it saddened him at times, it was better this way.
Was that what Charli had done, push him away before things got complicated?
‘Can I ask you something?’ He slipped her hand into his, intertwining fingers and holding tight when she tried to escape again.
‘Depends.’
He hated the caution in her eyes, the fact he’d put it there.
‘If I wasn’t leaving tomorrow night, would things be different?’
She ducked her head behind her shiny blonde hair hanging in a sleek curtain around her face, but not before he’d seen her guilty flash-away glance.
‘Would you—?’
He cut off the rest of what he’d been about to ask as Hector leaned over their chairs and slapped him on the back.
‘Glad to see my employees getting in a little bonding time.’ He pointed at their joined hands and grinned. ‘You two make a great team.’
A tiny frown creased Charli’s brow as she subtly tried to yank her hand free. He held on tighter.
‘You run a tight ship, Pop. Stands to reason your employees are so friendly.’
Hector guffawed and slapped him on the back. ‘That’s my boy. Now, you kids enjoy yourselves. I’m off to party.’
They watched him cut a swathe through the crowd, back-slapping cronies and wooing women.
‘He’s something else,’ he muttered, shaking his head in admiration. ‘And he’s right, you know.’
‘About?’
He squeezed her hand. ‘We do make a great team.’
She stiffened, shook her head slightly. ‘We’re nothing alike.’
‘Aren’t we? ‘
He lifted her hand to his mouth, placed a soft kiss on the back of it, savouring the slight tremble that made him hold on tighter.
‘We both play our cards close to our chest. We both see the world for what it is, with no illusions.’
He touched her cheek, a fleeting brush of fingertips against her skin, trying to convey what he was feeling—whatever that confusing jumble of emotions was—with a simple touch.
‘We’re both wary of getting emotionally involved.’
There, he’d thrown it out there, what he believed to be the reason why she’d backed off the past week.
Her eyes widened, making him wish he could drown in all that beguiling green.
‘That’s it, isn’t it? The reason you’ve backed away?’
She didn’t have to speak. He saw the answer in her quick look-away glance, in the worrying of her bottom lip, before she carefully eradicated all emotion from her face, fixing her deliberately blank gaze at some spot over his left shoulder.
‘Charli?’
He touched her knee when he wanted to bundle her into his arms and hold her tight until her aloofness melted and he saw the real woman underneath, the woman with warmth and sparks and fire.
‘Look at me.’
She wrenched her gaze back to his, the shimmer of fear all the confirmation he needed he’d nailed it.
Tilting her chin up, she stared him down, defiant. ‘Doesn’t change a thing.’
Damn it, she was right. He was still leaving in two days; she was scared of letting him in.
But she cared about him. She’d virtually admitted it with her muttered, ‘Doesn’t change a thing.’
Though she was wrong. It changed everything.
Taking hold of both her hands, he wouldn’t let go when she tugged.
‘This wasn’t a fling for me.’
‘No, it was a one-afternoon stand.’
Her cool tone made a mockery of what they’d shared and he was damned if he’d tolerate that.
‘Bull. Disregarding the sex, which was phenomenal, we’ve connected this last fortnight. And you know I don’t connect with people. Ever.’
He’d been terrified of emotionally connecting with her yet he’d gone ahead and done it anyway and that spoke volumes about how far gone he was. He was under her spell, totally, utterly bewitched, and something that had once scared him to death—connecting with another person—wasn’t so intimidating any more.
Her tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip and he could’ve sworn her hands trembled, her almost-imperceptible nod urging him to go for broke.
‘You don’t owe me anything but I think you owe yourself the truth. I’ve opened up to you and that’s taken some guts on my part. If you don’t admit the truth to yourself now, you never will.’
When she lifted her eyes to his, the shimmer of tears slugged him hard.
‘Fine, I care, damn it. Happy?’
‘Are you?’
Releasing a hand, he tipped her chin up, leaving her no option but to meet his steady gaze.
Silence stretched between them and he’d almost given up hope when she finally shook her head and murmured, ‘No.’
Knowing he was racing against the clock, he closed the distance between them and brushed a soft kiss against her trembling lips.
‘So what are we going to do about it?’
CHAPTER TWELVE
TWENTY-FOUR hours later, Charli was even more drained if that were possible.
‘You two aren’t bad for a couple of control
freaks.’
She tried not to cringe as Storm draped an arm across her shoulder, the other on Luca’s, who looked as if he’d deck the drunken rock star given half a chance.
‘If you’re thanking us for making your comeback tour the best ever, you’re welcome,’ Charli said, her dry response going over Storm’s alcohol-hazed head but garnering a wry grin from Luca.
‘Time for you two to let loose.’ Storm raised his arms in a victory salute, releasing them from his clutches. ‘I’m the best. The concert rocked. Melbourne loved me.’
Slapping them on the backs for good measure, he slurred, ‘My work is done. Party on.’
As Storm stumbled away Luca said, ‘That’s one part of Melbourne I definitely won’t miss.’
She watched Storm lurch through the band, bumping heads with the lead guitarist, and winced.
‘I thought you had a new-found respect for our resident rock star after the country tour.’
‘It vanished when he ripped off those leather chaps he wore tonight and threw them into the crowd.’ Luca shuddered. ‘Man, who knows where those chaps have been?’
She laughed, for what felt like the first time in ages and it felt good, really good, after the way she’d been buttoned up this past week, repressing her natural responses to Luca for fear of releasing her fragile grip on her resistance to him.
She couldn’t believe he’d guessed the truth last night. No one had ever seen the real her yet in less than two weeks he’d managed to undermine her, unhinge her and understand her.
And what he’d said resonated. She wasn’t happy, had been downright miserable the past week, holding back for fear of falling deeper for him when in reality nothing she could do or say would stave off the inevitable.
Luca was the type of guy you fell for.
And just for one night, she was through being logical and careful. She wanted to make this night count.
‘You’re enjoying the after-party?’
He shrugged and she stifled a sigh as the simple action pulled his black silk shirt taut across his chest. ‘I’d rather be elsewhere for my last eight hours in Melbourne.’
She swallowed to ease the tightness in her throat. He could’ve meant anything by that comment. Maybe he had loads of packing to do. Maybe he had to tie up last-minute handover notes for the incoming finance manager. Maybe he just wanted to get away from the noise and excitement of Storm’s final comeback concert and chill out before he boarded a plane.
But as she snuck a glimpse at him and saw the same soul-deep longing flash across his face for an instant before it was gone, she knew exactly how he’d like to spend his last eight hours in this city.
Was he feeling the same desperation, the same confusion, the same yearning? Desperate to make their last eight hours together count, confused that this would only make saying goodbye harder, yearning for one, last, cataclysmic night together to savour later when they’d parted for good?
Torn between doing the sensible thing, the right thing and the all-out crazy thing, she clenched and unclenched her fingers several times, shaking them out, belatedly realising the incessant tingling had more to do with his proximity than any pins and needles.
She should say her goodbyes and walk away now.
But as she glanced up and caught a flicker of desolation in his unwavering gaze, she knew she couldn’t walk away. Not like this.
Drawing in a shaky breath, she went for broke.
‘Where would you like to spend your last hours in Melbourne?’
His eyes darkened as he surreptitiously threaded his fingers through hers and tugged her closer.
‘You know.’
Yeah, she knew and ever since she’d begged off him taking her home from the Arias last night citing babysitting Storm duties, all day when they’d been manic ensuring the concert tonight went off without a hitch, and over the past few hours when Storm had belted out hit after hit to an adoring Melbourne crowd, she’d tried to stay focused on her job and not on the knowledge that was driving her mad.
That despite the self-defeating ramifications, she had to say a proper goodbye to Luca Petrelli.
‘That was out of line, Charli, forget it—’
He released her hand and took a step back, steeling his expression into one of cool resignation but not before she’d seen the fleeting anguish they wouldn’t have a chance at a proper goodbye.
Still no closer to knowing if she was doing the right thing and with her heart thundering in her ears, she took a deep breath, looked him straight in the eye and said, ‘Come on. Let’s make your last few hours in Melbourne count.’
‘You know this is a really bad idea, right?’
In response Luca backed her up against her front door, clasped her wrists, brought them overhead and plundered her mouth in a devastating kiss that left her weak-kneed when he eventually came up for air.
‘Very bad idea,’ he murmured, nuzzling her neck, nipping the tender skin above her collarbone, licking a trail along her cleavage until she moaned.
‘We’ve spent a week trying to avoid this.’
She gasped as he slid an arm around her waist and angled her pelvis snugly into his, where she found excellent evidence to stop talking and make the most of their time together.
‘A wasted week,’ he said, pinning her wrists to the door with one hand and using the other to bring her flush against him, playing her like a double bass. A double bass in desperate need of some fine-tuning.
‘We really going to do this?’ she asked.
He stopped kissing her bare shoulder and released his grip on her wrists, waiting ‘til her arms fell to her sides before locking his around her.
‘Only if you want to.’
He was giving her an out; after all their dancing around each other and holding back, with desire pounding through their bodies and heat shimmering between them, he was still giving her the option to stop, giving her total control and in that moment she knew what it felt like to be truly empowered.
Heady stuff, for a girl tossed on the streets—powerless—and a woman who spent her life trying to regain power by staying on top of her job, staying in control all the time.
Sliding her hands around to his butt, she tugged him towards her. ‘Come inside and I’ll show you what I want.’
His jubilant curse echoed what they were about to do as they fumbled the lock and fell through the door in haste.
‘We’re making a habit of that,’ she said, suddenly nervous when he kicked the door shut and advanced on her.
‘Happens when two people can’t get enough of each other.’
He took a step towards her and a flood of need drenched her, quelling her nerves and making her want him more than ever.
She was through prevaricating. She wanted this, wanted him and no way in hell would she back down now.
‘You know that, right? I can’t get enough of you?’
Another step and she nodded, holding her breath as his potent gaze started at the top of her shoulders where spaghetti straps held up her little black dress and slowly worked its way down, lingering on her breasts until her nipples pebbled, skimming her waist, focusing on her pelvis until she squirmed, wet and waiting.
‘Luca, please …’ Her plea came out a whimper as he took another step closer, within touching distance now, the crackle of electricity between them as real and potent as the first time.
‘I intend to please you.’
With his hands hanging loosely by his sides, his clenched fists the only sign the effort not to touch her was killing him, he locked gazes with her, the depth of his need notching up her own to boiling point.
‘All night long.’
She gasped as he ducked his head, slanting a soft kiss across her lips, working his way towards her ear where he proceeded to tell her exactly what he planned on doing.
In exquisite, excruciating, erotic detail.
By the time he’d finished she was swaying towards him, on the verge of an orgasm, desperate to be pushed over
the edge.
‘Think you can handle that?’
In response she flung herself against him, knocking over a lamp and not giving a damn.
Their mouths clashed in an explosion of mutual need, his hands clasping her to him as she ground against him once, twice and fell apart, screaming his name.
It wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted it all.
‘Not a bad prelude. You ready for the encore?’
Blown away by the enormity of all this, she held up a finger. ‘Give me a minute.’
He snagged her hand as she backed towards her bedroom, hoping it wouldn’t take too long to create a private party for two. Now she’d finally thrown her reservations away, she wanted to make tonight memorable, a night neither of them would ever forget, a night to remember in the weeks to come when she slowly put her broken heart back together.
‘Make it thirty seconds and you’ve got a deal.’
He tugged her in for a sizzling kiss that left her hoping she could light the candles and oil burner in fifteen.
‘Clock’s ticking,’ he murmured, his hand sliding over her butt as she eased out of his grasp.
‘Patience, virtue, remember?’
He tapped his watch. ‘Twenty seconds and counting.’
She rushed into the bedroom and scurried around, lighting tea candles and spritzing the air with ylang-ylang, an essential oil she loved. Glancing around the room, she experienced a moment of panic. Was she really doing this? Inviting him into her bedroom, setting the scene for seduction, giving herself to him one last time?
The flames from the tea lights twinkled, winking at her, as if they were in on the plan right from the very start.
But she hadn’t planned this. She liked candles, liked essential oils, and always wound down at the end of a busy day by lighting tea lights, firing up the oil burner, plugging her iPod on and lying on the bed with her eyes closed, letting the stress of the day dissipate.
Sadly, her usual de-stressors weren’t working now. Dragging in deep breaths, she pressed a hand to her belly, willing the tumbling to subside.
In a second she’d open the door and let Luca into her heart for the very last time.
Her hand drifted upwards to her chest, rubbing away the ache that morphed and spread at the thought of saying goodbye. The thing was, regardless if she made love to him or not, this horrible ache would still be there. It would take time, a long time, before she recovered from loving and losing Luca. Surely having an incredible memory of their parting would help ease the pain?
