Whereas he hadn’t even recognized her.
Her mind focused on one memory, that of him leaning close enough to kiss and staring at her mouth. Her palms brushed over her breasts, teasing the nipples into tight buds. He was unshaven; his stubble would prickle against her softness. She stroked down her torso, remembering his scent—the potent mix of sandalwood and man that lit her senses alight. When her fingers dipped between her legs, she was wet, soaked with wanting him.
The tip of her index finger circled her clit. Would he touch her there with his fingers or with his mouth? Her back arched as she pressed hard on the little nub, imagining his head between her thighs, his mouth covering her heat, his tongue dipping inside.
Angling her knees, she reached for the vibrator. There was no need for lubrication, so she set the device buzzing, and fitted it, the throbbing bullet against her clit as the body pulsed inside her. His hands would be strong, clutching her hips. His hard chest would abrade her sensitive breasts. He’d murmur in her ear, more of those husky, Scottish accented words, describing in exquisite detail every last thing he wanted to do to her, the way he wanted to fuck her, how much he wanted her.
She imagined his eyes boring into hers. The vibrator was a poor imitation; he’d be bigger, wider, but still her inner muscles contracted as she squeezed her thighs together, and pressed the vibrating bullet to her clit. Gripped by a fantasy, the waves built until they could be contained no more, and thoughts of Sholto drove her over the edge.
Chapter Four
Three quarters of an hour later Max was freshly showered and dressed in sweats when the doorbell rang. She opened the door to find Cam and the pizza deliveryman standing on the doorstep.
Cam had her purse open. “He wouldn’t let me pay.”
“You might have been trying to hijack this pizza,” the pizza deliveryman teased. “I know it sounds unlikely—but it has happened and I knew Miss Goode would kill me if she didn’t get her pepperoni fix.” He grinned.
“Quite right too.” Max grabbed a couple of notes from the table and exchanged them for the flat pizza box. “Thank you.”
They both watched him walk away.
“Damn, he’s good-looking,” Cam said. “If I was on his route I’d be ordering pizza every day.” She held up a bottle. “I meant to be here earlier, but got delayed. Looks like I arrived at the right time though. When I dropped Lindsay off at my mum’s she dragged me in to look at her new curtains.” Cam smiled. “Which was just an excuse to confide about how difficult my mother is finding my father’s retirement. He’s home all day and making improvements to the house. It’s driving her crazy. He decided to put up shelves in the spare bedroom, so our conversation was overlaid with the sound of hammering. I couldn’t just drop Linds and run. You know how it is.”
Max shrugged. Her father had been at home for as long as she could remember.
“What’s the deal with your parents?” Cam tilted her head to one side, and fixed Max with a stare. “You never talk about them. They live in Kent, don’t they?”
“We don’t really get on.”
“You fight?”
If only it were that simple.
“No. The very opposite. Every time I go home and see them, we act like polite strangers. I pretend to be the sort of daughter they want, and they pretend to believe I am.” Bitter rejection twisted in her heart. “It’s nobody’s fault, it’s just the way it is.”
“You’re looking tired. Still not sleeping?” Cam’s gaze was critical.
Max shrugged.
“You should take some time off. You work too hard. We can handle things for a couple of weeks—why not go on holiday?”
“Let’s open that wine.” She strode into the apartment heading straight for the kitchen, and searched in the drawer for the corkscrew.
Max took two plates from the cupboard and brought them to the coffee table in the sitting room. She flipped open the top of the box and the room filled with the scent of pizza.
Cam opened the wine and poured two glasses. “You’re trying to change the subject, aren’t you?”
Max nodded. “I’m fine. Don’t make a fuss.” Reassuring Cam had become a familiar chore over the past few months. She didn’t want to let on just how badly affected she’d been by the whole Joel affair. How she didn’t think she would ever trust a man again.
Cam took the hint. “What do your parents think about your company?”
Some of the fantasies they made real were pretty out there. They certainly wouldn’t receive her mother’s stamp of approval. “They don’t know about it—and neither do my sisters. I tell them it’s a concierge service.” She swallowed a mouthful of wine. “They wouldn’t approve. It was bad enough that my name appeared in the papers with the Hazzard Hall affair. My mother didn’t speak to me for a month after that.”
Cam’s eyes were full of sympathy. She filled her glass and leaned back on the sofa. “So what have you been up to? I thought I’d see you back in the office today.”
Max tapped a strand of shower-damp hair behind her ear. Nerves swirled in her stomach. It was time to fess up, and for an awful moment she wondered if she’d done the right thing. Cam had made a throwaway comment she doubtless didn’t expect Max to act upon, but things were moving at such a clip that she couldn’t back down now. “I’ve been working on a fantasy.” She gulped a mouthful of wine.
“A fantasy for you, I hope. You can’t keep avoiding life, honey—you have to get back out there and date again. Not all guys…”
Max shook her head. “Not me.”
Cam’s eyes widened. “Oh, we have a new client? That’s great. So, tell me more.” She grabbed a slice of pizza and bit into it.
“Actually… You know all about this fantasy. It’s yours.”
Cam’s brow furrowed. “My—” She dropped the pizza onto the plate and covered her mouth with a hand. “My fantasy? You mean the one about the reunion?”
Max couldn’t tell if Cam was excited or appalled. “I should have told you that I know Sholto Kincaid. We were in school together for about a year when he lived in Butterworth, that small village in Kent I’m from. We weren’t friends, but I had a meeting with him today to see if he’d accompany you to the reunion. He said yes.”
“I don’t believe it. Are you joking?” Cam jumped up and started pacing backward and forward.
Max shook her head.
“You’ve really got Sholto Kincaid to come as my date?”
Max nodded.
Cam walked over, pulled Max to her feet, and enveloped her in a hug.
“It won’t be a proper date of course. He’s never met you, so kissing and stuff…”
“Oh, honey, the last thing I want is a fling with an unobtainable man. I want a real man, not a fantasy. Anyway, the Sholto Kincaids of this world are way out of my league. I’d much prefer a fling with your pizza deliveryman.”
Thank God. The thought of Cam actually fancying Sholto had been Max’s biggest concern—a fact she hadn’t admitted to herself until now. “Are you sure? He’s pretty sexy.”
“You met with him face-to-face?” Cam tilted her head to one side and observed Max through narrowed eyes.
To her consternation, a flush warmed her cheeks. “I went to the premiere last night.”
“Did you meet him there?”
“It’s a long story. But yes. And I met with him again today.”
“You’ve got a crush on him, I can tell.” Cam’s forehead pleated. “I’m not sure he’s the right sort of guy for you to get involved with though. Maybe after what happened you should date a nice guy, not hook up with a player.”
“That won’t happen. Sholto and I—well, we have a history. I never went out with him, but there was an incident in school, a regrettable incident.” She glanced at the pizza. “Sit down. Eat—our dinner is getting cold.”
Cam did as she asked. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Max shook her head. “It’s ancient history. Let’s just say I had a littl
e leverage.”
“You must have had to pay. How much? Can you take it out of my salary in installments?”
“He wouldn’t take money. He wanted to trade.”
“Trade?” The word came out as a squeak.
“He wants a film role and the only way to get it is to prove he can survive marooned on a desert island for nine days. I spoke to Jasper today and he’s agreed to screen test Sholto once that condition has been met. The problem is, he doesn’t trust Sholto to do it honestly. He insisted upon independent verification by someone he trusts.” She swallowed a mouthful of wine, then pointed a thumb at herself. “So I guess I’m taking a holiday as you suggested. I need you to handle everything at work while Sholto and I play castaways.”
And I haven’t even told him yet.
*****
The doorbell rang. Sholto strode across his living room, through the shaft of sunlight that spilled through the full-length glass doors, and opened it.
Larry stood on the doorstep, staring into the branches of a tree to the left of the door.
“What are you looking at?” Sholto tracked Larry’s gaze.
Larry turned to him with a smile. “There was a bird—it distracted me for a moment.”
“In the gold medallion tree?” Sholto spotted the bird that had caught Larry’s eye. “It’s a black phoebe.”
Shaking his head side to side, Larry walked into the house. “I don’t know how you know this stuff, man. It’s not as if you’ve lived in LA all your life.” He tossed his briefcase onto the sofa and sat next to it. “So, what’s the emergency?”
“It’s about the Solo movie.”
Larry frowned. “Look, I’m sorry, but that’s just not going to happen.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You should just forget about it. I have a much more interesting proposition for you. I got a call this morning from a director who’s casting a small indie movie. He caught one of your recent interviews and wants you for the lead. He wanted to know if you were really Scottish. He couldn’t believe it, he was sure you were American.”
“I get that a lot.” Most of the roles going in the movie business were for American actors, and he’d effortlessly slipped into roles on that basis. Evaluating what exactly a director wanted was second nature—hardly surprising, as he’d been adapting to expectations all his life.
“Great!” Larry seemed to think it was a done deal. “It’s a great project…totally different from your last role. The character you’ll be playing is a hard-boiled detective who—”
“I have news. Someone has persuaded Jasper Watson to give me a screen test for Solo, once I prove myself.”
“Someone else has been pitching you to Watson?” Larry rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen, I’m a good agent…”
Sholto stood. “You’re the best, Larry. I wouldn’t want anyone else. Come on, let’s get a beer.” He started toward the kitchen. “The person who talked to Jasper is an old friend doing me a favor, okay?” He jerked open the fridge and pulled out a couple of cold ones. “It’s totally crazy, but in order to screen test, I have to prove I can survive on a desert island, just like Weatherly did. I leave next week.” He flicked off the bottle tops, walked back to Larry, and handed one over.
Larry’s mouth was half open. It wasn’t a good look. Eventually, he got himself together. “Listen, Sho…” He almost never shortened Sholto’s name; this was going to be bad.
Sholto raised an eyebrow.
“You know I think you’re a great actor.”
“But?”
“Can I speak frankly? You’re not going to be pissed at me?”
Sholto slouched into his favorite chair and sipped his beer. “Sure. Go ahead.”
“This role isn’t for you. It’s dark. It’s gritty. It’s not big box office. It’s the sort of role a character actor, one of the method guys, would take on. You’re a master of the sort of roles you’ve been playing, but the Weatherly role will go to someone who can put real emotion out there, who can dig deep and pull their guts out. For the life of me, I can’t imagine why you even want it so bad.”
Sholto’s biggest fear was that Larry was right. “That’s exactly why I want it.” His voice was soft. “Because it’s a challenge.” Larry was more than an agent; he was a good friend. “I can play sexy, I can play funny, I can do light—I can do all that stuff without breaking a sweat. I want something more.”
“You don’t need to prove yourself by going to some island and playing at being marooned.”
“You know what was missing at that London premiere?”
Larry shook his head.
“Family. My uncle and aunt live less than an hour away, but I couldn’t invite them. I would have been ashamed to invite them to see me screwing on film.”
Larry’s face screwed up. “I get you there.”
“You know my background’s complicated. My Uncle Doug and Aunt Jeanne took me in when I was a teenager and needed a home. Doug’s the only father figure I ever knew. I do need to prove myself. I need to prove myself to him.”
Doug had told him he was proud of what Sholto had achieved, was proud of the way he’d overcome his disastrous start in life. But gaining the role of Weatherly, showing he was a serious actor, capable of portraying the role would really make his uncle proud.
“He’s a no-nonsense man’s man. He loves films like The Right Stuff, All the President’s Men and Apollo 13. Movies where men are brave, honest, and heroic.”
In the dark days after Sholto was removed from his mother’s home and brought to live with his aunt and uncle, they’d had to build a relationship from scratch. Doug and Jeanne had no kids of their own, and finding themselves unexpected guardians of a teenage boy hadn’t been easy.
Doug worked construction, but he’d supported Sholto every step of the way when he announced he would be an actor one day. And ever since he started in the business, he’d yearned to win one perfect role. The role of a man facing adversity, and triumphing in the end. An Oscar win would be nice, but Sholto’s true aim was a lot more personal.
He’d given Solo to his uncle for Christmas, and the story had captivated the older man. “The next time there’s a movie premiere in London, I want Doug and Jeanne sitting next to me, watching it. Solo is the perfect project. The one I have to win.”
“But having to play at being marooned…”
“I wouldn’t be playing. It’s a deserted island and I’d only have what Weatherby had when he was marooned—nothing more. It’s hardcore.”
Larry’s eyes were so wide his entire eyeballs showed. “On your own?”
“No. Someone will go with me to make sure I do it right. I need to do this, Larry. I’m going next week, and I’ll be gone for nine days.” He had no intention of mentioning just exactly who would be joining him, mostly because he didn’t know how he felt about spending nine days alone with Max.
Larry shrugged. He swallowed a mouthful of beer. “But in case it doesn’t work out, at least let me set up a meet with the other guys. The movie’s edgy and different. I still think you should do it.”
*****
Max sat in the back of the Jeep that had picked her up from her hotel looking out the window as the driver sped through the narrow streets of the small, Indonesian village. People were everywhere—on foot, on bicycles, on mopeds and in cars. There was a market set up on the side of the road, stalls stacked with colorful clothing next to ones piled high with fruit, vegetables, and brightly colored spices.
The driver had the radio on and was singing along to a song there seem to be popular everywhere in the world right now. He was murdering it. The heavy air smelled of flowers and spices—so different from home.
Why am I doing this? Nerves fluttered in her stomach, and not for the first time, she tried to examine her motives dispassionately. When Jasper had laid out his terms for screen testing Sholto, she’d experienced a flare of excitement. Excitement to be out of the office, out of England. Surviving on a desert island had
always been on her bucket list—the years of camping out and living off the land with her father had been some of the best times of her life. Away from civilization, the worries of the world faded.
The month’s jungle survival training with Abe Kingston had edged it up a notch. They’d had to deal with a hostile environment with limited resources—and Abe hadn’t gone easy on her, he’d pushed her every step of the way. She’d felt more alive than ever before.
In the past while, she’d been bogged down with the everyday. Drowning under a sea of emails, and locked in a spiral of all-consuming work. Apart from the Friday nights with Cam, she’d retreated from the world. She was only thirty-two, but she felt fifty.
The incident with Joel had scarred her, made her afraid to trust a man again. She’d hidden that truth from herself, but when the possibility of escaping civilization appeared, she faced facts.
She was living half a life. Nine days isolated in paradise would be good for her—would help her to reconnect with her inner self and kick her off the hamster-wheel of work, sleep, work she’d been stuck on. And Cam was right. She needed to be able to be with a guy again, without fearing he would become dangerously obsessive.
She breathed in the warm air wafting through the open window and closed her eyes. Maybe she should have given more thought to the fact that she wouldn’t be alone in paradise.
She’d spent a month in the jungle with Abe, and even though he was single and attractive, she hadn’t felt a fraction of the heat that had coursed through her veins the last time she’d seen Sholto.
“We’re here, Miss.” The car came to a halt. Max opened her eyes to see that the driver had pulled up outside a hotel facing the waterfront.
Chapter Five
Sholto spotted Max the moment she entered the hotel. He was seated in the lobby, drinking his second cup of coffee that morning as the automatic doors slid open and she sauntered into the lobby.
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