Lessons in Rule-Breaking

by Christy McKellen

  ‘You don’t want me giving you a massage—I’m terrible at it,’ she said, smoothing a lock of hair behind her ear, then flipping it back out again so it swung back to join the rest of her bob. She had a horrible urge to hide her face from him. He was so confusing with his ability to flip the conversation from something innocuous into something that made her jitter with barely contained anxiety.

  He gave her a questioning frown. ‘I don’t believe it. How can you be terrible at massaging?’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s just not something I count as one of my talents.’

  ‘Hmm.’ He was looking at her with such an intense, searching stare it made her insides twist.

  She wasn’t used to dealing with such overt flirtatiousness. The men she’d dated in the past had been attractive guys, but nothing like the unwieldy package of sexual energy that Xander Heaton embodied. He was something else entirely.

  Walking past her, he pulled out a chair from the table and gestured for her to sit down.

  She nodded her thanks and perched herself on the edge of the leather-upholstered chair, folding her hands on the tabletop and kicking off her shoes so she could flex her aching feet under the table. She watched as he pulled out the seat opposite and dropped into it with a sigh.

  ‘I’m curious. Why don’t you give interviews any more?’ she said, hoping that if she just kept firing random questions at him he’d eventually give her some straight answers.

  He leant back in his chair and smoothed the front of his shirt down with long, tanned fingers.

  Jess watched the movement, fascinated by the simple beauty of his hands, noting how his fingernails were dark-rimmed with ingrained paint. There was something lovely about how his hands reflected exactly who he was.

  A warm and tingly feeling wound through her belly—and lower—as her thoughts slid towards what sort of mischief he could get up to if he put those amazing hands of his on her body.

  She really needed to stop thinking about him like this; it wasn’t conducive to getting the best out of the interview if all she could think about was how damn sexy he was.

  ‘I’ve had some bad experiences with the press twisting things I’ve said. They take things out of context and make me sound like an idiot.’ He leant forward in his chair. ‘And I prefer to keep my private life just that—private,’ he said, giving her a knowing smile and stretching out his legs under the table, his calf brushing gently against hers. ‘But I’m sure I can trust you to give me a fair write-up, Jess, especially as I have the power to make you look bad, too. You don’t want your bad-hair day hanging on someone’s wall for ever, do you?’

  Her breath seemed to be coming out in shorter gasps than normal, which was making her light-headed. Sucking in a deep, calming slug of air, she carefully moved her leg away from his and attempted to centre herself before responding.

  ‘You wouldn’t do that.’ The shake in her voice made it clear she totally believed he would.

  He laughed. ‘Of course not. I’m only joking. I promise to be true to your character.’

  She nodded slowly. ‘So what happened last year to kill your muse?’ she asked casually, glancing up at him through her lashes in the hope he’d answer without thinking.

  He gave her such a what the hell are you talking about? look she shrank back into her seat in disgrace.

  Okay, so it wasn’t the most professional way to conduct the interview, but then again she had nothing to lose throwing out provocative questions. In fact, if she was going to get something juicy enough to satisfy Pamela she was going to have to push the boat right out and straight into enemy waters.

  Xander must have thought he’d reacted a bit too strongly because he flicked her a smile and manipulated his body into a more relaxed posture.

  ‘My muse isn’t dead, just resting. I had a few years where I worked pretty intensively and I needed a break.’

  ‘So taking a break had nothing to do with the reviews you had of your last exhibition, then?’

  His expression darkened and he leant forward in his chair. ‘You really think I care about the opinions of a few talentless hacks? I have zero respect for people who don’t have the ability to produce their own art so spend their time and energy trashing other people’s work instead. They’re a waste of space and not something I’m willing to talk about again, so you can cross that one off your list of probing questions for Xander.’ The cold resentment in his voice made her shiver.

  Okay, lesson learned, she wasn’t going to be able to rush this. Probably best to keep the conversation bland for now and build up to the more probing questions. After all, if he wanted more time to sketch her she could afford to take things slowly and build his trust in her before slipping him the leading questions.

  * * *

  Xander relaxed back into his chair and attempted to shake off the unsettling avalanche of anxiety that Jess’s questions had buried him in. He really needed to keep his temper under control or she’d think she was onto a juicy story about how he felt about the press’s less-than-favourable reaction to his last show.

  He’d relived the hurt and anger of last year’s glitch in his career over and over until it had nearly driven him crazy, and he was determined to get over this debilitating fear of failing again. He really didn’t need her poking at that old wound when he was finally feeling the creative buzz again.

  Jess leant back in her chair and studied him for a moment and he tensed, waiting to see whether he’d been successful at closing that line of questioning down.

  ‘What does it feel like to be voted the fourth sexiest man in England?’ she said finally, a mischievous eyebrow raised.

  He smiled, relieved that she’d taken the hint and changed the subject.

  ‘Actually I hear I’m third in the UK right now and it’s a real honour.’

  ‘I bet.’ She shot him a judicious look. ‘Any plans to up your rating? How much sexier do you think you’d need to be to reach number one, for example?’

  He laughed. ‘Quite a bit.’

  She snorted and picked up her water, taking a quick sip. ‘If you did get any sexier I think most women—and probably some men—would melt under the force of your charisma.’

  He gave her a lazy grin, something warm and happy growing larger deep in his belly. ‘You think I’m sexy?’

  Her gaze shot away from him and she put her glass down hurriedly, managing to catch it awkwardly on her side plate and spilling water onto the tablecloth. ‘I can see why other people think you are.’ She didn’t look back at him, but busied herself mopping up the spill with her napkin.

  ‘But you don’t personally?’

  She still wouldn’t look at him. ‘I have odd tastes.’

  ‘Odd?’

  ‘Yeah, boy-next-door types, I guess. Men I feel comfortable to be with. Men who aren’t going to outshine me wherever we go.’

  ‘I can’t image anyone outshining you.’

  She raised a discerning eyebrow. ‘You’re sweet to say that, but I’m warning you now, I can smell B.S. a mile away.’

  God, she was saucy when she got all strict.

  ‘You’re really something, you know that?’ Xander said, leaning forward and putting his elbows onto the table.

  There was something about the wariness on her face that made him long to get behind that tight-lipped front she put up to protect herself. He was pretty sure there was a lot going on beneath the surface with Jess and he longed to find out what was driving it. He’d not met anyone as guarded—and seemingly immune to his charms—as her in a very long time.

  He liked that about her. He liked it a lot.

  And he was determined to shake the real her out from under those layers of protection.

  * * *

  ‘Okay, if you don’t want to talk about your last exhibition let’s try some qui
ck-fire questions,’ Jess said, ignoring his attempt at flirting her into submission and hoping her slowly, slowly approach would yield better results. If she could keep things light and seemingly unobtrusive he might just give her something without feeling as though he was.

  Although, judging by the bemused look on his face, she suspected she was going to have a tough time getting him to take any of this seriously.

  Shoving back his chair and balancing a foot on his knee, he waved at her to begin. ‘Shoot.’

  She cleared her throat and sat up straighter, pen poised over her notepad in readiness. ‘Okay. Beer or wine?’

  He raised an amused eyebrow. ‘Tequila body shots.’

  Heat rushed up her neck as a vision of him licking salt out of her belly button slammed into her head. She pushed it away quickly, hoping her expression hadn’t given her away. She didn’t want him to know how much he was getting to her.

  ‘Favourite animal?’ she ploughed on, not looking up from her pad.

  ‘Tiger.’ He growled and she glanced up to see him making clawing gestures with his hands.

  She fought to keep her smile under wraps. ‘Favourite way to travel?’

  ‘Asleep.’

  She sighed. Yup, he wasn’t going to make this easy on her.

  ‘What?’ he asked, holding his hands up in mock offence. ‘I hate travelling—it’s tedious. I try to sleep through all my journeys.’ He leant forward in his chair. ‘I’m guessing you’re one of those people who don’t believe in power naps.’

  ‘I can’t sleep during the day.’

  ‘What, never? You should practise. It’s a useful skill.’

  ‘I’m usually too busy working in the day.’

  He grinned. ‘Yeah, well, if you sleep as badly as me you need to master afternoon napping.’

  ‘Have you always slept badly?’ she asked, intrigued by the small snippet of personal information he’d let slip.

  He shifted in his chair, switching his legs over and propping the other foot on the opposite knee, obviously annoyed at himself for slipping up and offering her a lead into something else he didn’t want to discuss.

  ‘I’ve always had strange sleep patterns.’ He didn’t look at her and she wondered why. Judging by the sudden tension in his body she’d swear he was lying.

  ‘What is it that keeps you up in the night?’ she pushed, determined to pursue this until he gave her something interesting she could use in the piece.

  He glanced back at her, his expression now teasing. ‘Usually the hot woman lying next to me.’ He shot her another grin, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  ‘Right. So what? All the partying you’ve become so famous for is to help you sleep? Wouldn’t it be easier to take a sleeping pill?’

  ‘I party hard to have fun. You’ve heard of that, right? Fun.’ He gave her a slow, lazy smile as if he knew exactly what she did for fun. She thought about all the quiet nights in and cringed a little.

  ‘Sadly, I don’t have the opportunities or resources that you do,’ she said, trying to keep the giveaway clip of indignity out of her voice.

  Instead of responding, he got up and left the room, leaving her staring after him.

  What the hell? Was this how he was going to act whenever she started on a line of questioning he wasn’t comfortable with?

  Before she had chance to get up and follow him out, he reappeared, sketch pad and pencil in hand.

  Her stomach did a slow dive. ‘What are you going to do with those?’ she asked dumbly, suddenly hot with worry. He wasn’t going to start sketching her now, was he?

  ‘I needed a little predinner snack and these looked delicious,’ he said, his voice laden with sarcasm.

  Jess bristled. ‘Do you really need to start doing that right now, here at the dinner table?’

  ‘Why not? You brought your work to the table. Why can’t I bring mine?’

  She had no answer for that. He had a point.

  Flattening her hair down with hands that no longer felt as if they belonged to her, she shuffled up straighter in her seat.

  ‘Look, Xander, I’m not really comfortable...’

  ‘Don’t worry, you don’t need to do anything differently, I just had an image I wanted to get down before I forgot it. I have to grab these little flashes of inspiration when they strike. Unfortunately, my muse isn’t something I have any control over.’

  ‘A bit like your libido,’ she muttered, staring down at the table, unwilling to meet his eyes in case he saw how awkward he was making her feel.

  He didn’t make any reply to her jibe, but when she flicked her eyes up to check what he was doing she noticed a small curl to his lips, as if he was trying to suppress a smile. His gaze was fully focused on what he was doing, but as she watched him move the pencil fluidly over the paper he glanced up for a second and caught her staring.

  She looked away quickly, heat burning her cheeks.

  Rosa appeared in the doorway with plates of food and Jess breathed a sigh of relief when Xander put down his pad and ceased the impromptu sketching session.

  Taking a deep breath, she tentatively started in on the scrumptious-looking salmon, asparagus and salad that Rosa placed in front of her. Her appetite seemed to have totally abandoned her now, but she wasn’t going to let her insecurities get the better of her—no way. Even so, she hardly tasted a bite of the meal as she worked her way through it. It was as if her taste buds had packed up and gone on holiday, making everything she ate turn to dust in her mouth.

  She put her cutlery down after managing only half of it, defeated.

  ‘How was your food?’ Xander asked, startling her as he laid his own knife and fork onto his empty plate.

  ‘It was delicious. I really enjoyed it. There’s just a bit too much for me here,’ she said, feeling the heat of her discomfort flaring in her cheeks. Looking down, she realised her hands were trembling so she hid them underneath the napkin on her lap, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

  ‘You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met a journalist who was such an awful liar before,’ Xander said, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head as he studied her. ‘You looked like you were being tortured all the way through eating that.’

  That did it.

  The stress of attempting to stay calm around him, the pressure of potentially losing her job if she couldn’t get him to play ball and his utter disrespect for her profession all collided in her head, shooting her blood pressure to maximum.

  ‘You know what, I didn’t want to believe all the gossipy reports about you being an arrogant idiot, but I can see now they’re totally on the money.’

  He stared back at her, eyebrows raised and a muscle twitching in his jaw, but didn’t say a word in his defence.

  Had she blown it losing her cool like that? Was that the end of this little fiasco? She felt as if the whole thing had spun out of her control and she had no idea how to claw it back.

  But instead of telling her to get out of his house, he picked up his sketchbook and pencil again and started to scribble away as if she weren’t even in the room.

  She sat for a minute or two, waiting to see whether he’d speak to her again, but he steadfastly ignored her.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry for losing my temper. I’m just feeling a bit...out of my depth at the moment.’

  Still nothing. Not even an acknowledgement that she’d spoken.

  ‘O-okay, then...well...’ she stuttered, scrunching up the napkin from her lap and dropping it onto the plate in front of her. ‘On that bombshell, I’ll let you get on with your picture and get back to my hotel.’

  Perhaps once she’d had a good night’s sleep everything would look rosier in the morning and they could start afresh. She tried not to shudder as she remembered the insect-infested room th
at awaited her.

  He said nothing as she slid out of her seat, stooping to pick up her shoes. She decided against putting them back on, mainly because it would delay her leaving, but also because her poor aching feet would have screamed at her to stop torturing them if she had.

  ‘Goodnight, Xander,’ she said to the top of his head before walking away from him, not daring to look back and catch the look of amusement that had to be taking over that unnervingly handsome face of his.

  * * *

  Slumping back against his chair and dropping his sketch pad and pencil onto the table, Xander watched Jess stalk out of the dining room in her stockinged feet, her shoes swinging from her fingers at her side.

  A slow burn of shame worked its way through him.

  Perhaps he’d pushed things a little too far with that last comment? Judging by her violent reaction to it, she certainly seemed to think so. He’d found it amusing to play with her when he’d realised she was actually more nervous around him than she’d previously let on, but he really should apologise tomorrow and see if he could get her back on side once she’d calmed down.

  He wouldn’t usually entertain the idea of letting a journalist get anywhere close to him, but he liked Jess. There was something about her that fascinated him, something about her stoic determination not to let him get to her that made him want her more than anyone he’d met in a very long time. The thought of drawing her out of that brittle shell she protected herself with was thrilling. It did something disconcerting to him, causing a twisting heat to take him over and make him reckless—something he’d been determined not to be again until his new exhibition was in the bag, but teasing her had been such a turn-on. He’d love to see how she responded to a serious onslaught of flirting and whether he could change her mind about not wanting to sleep with him. He’d been surprised and not a little rankled when she’d said that earlier, and the narcissist in him wanted to prove her wrong. It had been a long time since a woman had turned him down, which made it a point of pride.

  He knew she felt some sort of attraction to him because of the unconscious way she responded when she was around him. Her pupils flared when she looked his way and her body language became charmingly jerky and more drawn towards him.