Romance: The Playboy (The Hot Aussie Heroes series Book 3)

by Madeline Ash

He was slow to smile, forehead not leaving hers. “I know.”

  She shook slightly in his arms, not yet used to the intensity of desire. Hell, Parker was used to it, and weakness trembled on his every breath. Her kiss had consumed him.

  Alexia’s gaze flicked towards the hotel room. “Do you want…?”

  Yes, he wanted to take her inside. Shed his clothes, and hers, and milk the hot summer night of every silky second it had. But going in fast meant leaving the same way, and the tug beneath his ribs needed to make this one last. “I do. But I meant it when I said I take lovers home. And you’ll need to sleep on this.”

  Despite the desire dark in her eyes, she nodded. “I like kissing you.”

  He grinned. He’d heard that before.

  She poked him between the ribs with a narrow-eyed smile. “Don’t look so cocky.”

  Parker laughed, running a hand over her hair and stopping when he hit a rough patch at the back. “A tangle, you said.” He used his fingers to twist her head to the side. “This feels more like a dreadlock.”

  “Don’t make me cry.”

  “You’re not trying to grow Emma’s dreads, are you?”

  “They’re cyberlox, and no.” She slid out from between him and the wall and scooped up the brush and bottle she’d dropped. “Anti-tangle spray. Hairbrush.” She handed them over and pivoted. “Go.”

  It took some coaxing, but before long, her hair was free, albeit a little frizzy. Parker ran his fingers through it, touching the honeyed curls that had fascinated him since adolescence. Then his hands reached the tips and fell lower, grasping her hips and sliding around until his fingers spanned her abdomen. Alexia pressed her spine against him, body soft, and laid her head on his shoulder, her chin tilting towards his mouth.

  “You make it feel like it would be so easy,” she whispered.

  No doubting she meant sex. “It is easy.”

  She nodded, eyes distracted by his lips. “Will you show me?”

  “Mm.” A grumble of agreement as he kissed he neck. “Will you go for the part?”

  “The part,” she repeated. “Oh. I suppose. But it’s not about that.”

  His mouth made it to her ear. “No harm in character building in the process. From memory, you’ll need confidence. Dominance. Abandon.”

  She swallowed, because his hand on her belly had dipped lower. His index finger toyed with the leg band of her knickers through her dress. God, who knew he loved crochet?

  “How about,” he said, voice gravelly, “if you still want to do this tomorrow, you come and find me.”

  Her eyes were closed now, but she nodded.

  “And kiss me,” he added.

  “Even if you’re working?”

  “Regardless. Consider it your first research task. Kiss me like I have no choice.” And he eased her off him and stepped back. Alexia turned, the light from inside landing on reddened cheeks and swollen lips.

  She leaned her shoulders and the sole of one foot against the wall behind her. Her breath still came fast. “Where will you be tomorrow?”

  Distancing himself another step, he shook his head. “You’re supposed to be a bounty hunter. You find me.”

  The light of day could change her mind.

  Or it could make him the luckiest man on earth.

  Alexia’s answering smile was a saucy slide of the lips that eliminated any remaining possibility that he would find sleep tonight.

  “When I do,” she said. “I’ll collect my prize.”

  Chapter Six

  ‡

  The next morning, one week into their trip, Dee finally dragged herself to the beach at dawn to watch Alexia surf. Alexia only realised this as she returned to shore, board under her arm, and spotted her friend beside her belongings.

  “Morning,” she called out, closing the distance and striking her surfboard into the sand.

  “Hi.” Dee handed up a towel. She was smiling. “You’re pretty good out there.”

  “It’s coming back to me.” The early morning sun was warm on her back. Another hot day dawning. She rubbed her hair and returned the smile. “Good sex?”

  Instant deflation. Her friend drew back, close to pouting. “That’s not fair. How did you know?”

  “Intuition.”

  Dee’s eyes narrowed.

  “And you’re not wearing lipstick. But you are wearing the same clothes as last night.” She dragged the towel down her legs. “And I saw you leave with Josh from my balcony last night.”

  That last bit piqued her friend’s interest. She straightened, feigning innocence. “On your balcony, were you? I thought you were exceptionally exhausted and had to go to bed. Why would you have still been awake?”

  Alexia picked up her board, towel slung over her shoulder. “You’re shameless. I have every right to be angry with you right now.”

  Not a hint of repentance in Dee’s blue eyes as she stood. “Agreed. But you’re not, which means there’s gossip to be had.”

  They headed towards Lullabar, feet sinking in the sand. The sensation flung Alexia into one of the many fantasies that had flushed her skin the night before. Parker’s hard body above hers on a night-shadowed beach, the sand at her back warm from the day’s heat. Swallowing the image down, she said, “First you sent him to my room under false pretences.”

  Dee gestured impatiently.

  “Then after a long conversation you likely don’t care about, we kissed.”

  “Thank God! Will you sleep with him?”

  Trust Dee to shoot to the point. Alexia had spent most of the night trying to figure that out. Thinking rationally about sex with an intensely frustrated body was a biological impossibility, so she’d hit the surf the moment light smudged the sky. Two hours she’d been in the water, thinking hard, and at no point had her mind changed.

  She wanted Parker.

  His kiss had moved her. Away from dejection, closer to sexual confidence, and directly into danger’s path. Easy to fall for this transformed man, trying to act fairly and learn from his mistakes. She could like him, but no more than that.

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “Praise cupid!” Dee fist pumped.

  Alexia laughed. She’d praise cupid over breakfast and then hunt Parker down.

  *

  By mid-afternoon, she was struck by the possibility that Parker was hiding from her. If he’d changed his mind overnight, he could be trying to save her the indignity of rejection. She’d spent half the day hanging out downstairs at Lullabar, perusing the shops in town, walking two beaches, and had returned with nothing but sweat on the bridge of her nose and reservation in her step.

  She was sitting in the shade out front with an ice water when Josh walked out, cloth over his shoulder. “Hey Lex.”

  “Joshua.” She raised the glass towards him.

  “Seen Dee?”

  “Passed out upstairs. Apparently she didn’t get much sleep last night,” she said, trailing off with a mock frown, pointing a finger at him questioningly.

  He ducked his head, dark cheeks colouring.

  She grinned. “Do you know where Parker is?”

  Josh ran a hand over his chin. “I saw his hang glider up this morning. But he’s probably on the beach now. He’s running a fundraiser next weekend for the Royal Flying Doctors. A surfing competition. Lori said a few of the guys have already arrived, so they could be talking details.”

  A fundraiser for charity. Her life-long aversion to Parker lost even more substance. “Okay, thanks.”

  “Why?”

  Alexia hesitated, and then said, “Just curious,” as Josh suggested, “Research?”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  His face broke into a grin.

  “Dee is in so much trouble,” she said, mildly mortified.

  “In her defence, I asked. More than once. And I might have given her The Look. I was curious why you wouldn’t explain.”

  “Well. Now you know.” And Dee was going to get a talking to. Her toes found the thongs sh
e’d discarded under the chair and slid into them. “And you seem to know Parker these days. Do you think he’s really interested?”

  “In you?” Josh’s expression left no room for doubt. “Yes.”

  “So he’s probably not hiding from me?”

  “Not unless you told him to.”

  That eased her mind. She picked up her sunhat from the table and spun it on a finger, eyeing Josh interestedly. “Since Dee told you about my research, you have to tell me how you and Parker became friends.”

  “Fair’s fair.” He drew out a chair and sat, wiping down her table with the cloth. “His mum died almost as soon as he graduated uni. That was pretty sad. Then he went on a trip and came home looking worse. After that he’d come into the café most days – I still worked there. He’d just sit and stare. He seemed different, kind of ragged. I don’t know why, but I took pity on him. Sat down one time and said if he ever wanted to talk, or to sit in silence, then just ask. When I brought him his next coffee, he said ‘silence.’ So we started with that.”

  “You’re a good guy, Josh.”

  He did his best to look modest. “So is Parker.”

  “I finally believe that.” She tugged on her hat and stood. “I’m off to find him.”

  Josh nodded, and murmured as she passed him, “The demands of research.”

  Alexia flicked the back of his head, still outraged at Dee’s loose tongue, and walked away to the sound of his laughter.

  *

  She found Parker on Tallow Beach, a beautiful stretch of sand beyond the lighthouse at Cape Byron. He stood with four others, his back to her and a hand on his hip. She picked him easily, distant dot that he was, because the sight of him had attraction gripping her gut, a clutch that gave no promise of ever letting go.

  Alexia imagined them discussing which Byron beach would be best for the competition, anticipating the swell and tide. It was easier than imaging interrupting their conversation to kiss him. She took her time approaching, slowed by nerves. Drawing closer, she recognised one of the men – an Aussie surfer, prodigious to the point of reclusive. He’d been the focus of an Australian surfing documentary she’d watched in LA just to see her home beaches again. From memory, he stuck to the secret breaks along the coast, too good to share waves, and it occurred to Alexia that Parker couldn’t have withdrawn from the surf scene entirely or he wouldn’t have had a hope of drawing this guy into public view.

  She grew close enough to hear their voices. Close enough for one of the men to glance at her, sensing Alexia’s path was headed right for them. And then close enough for the group to fall silent and frown, and for Parker to turn around, blond brows raised curiously above sleek sunglasses.

  He hardly had time to say, “Ah, I’ll just be a moment guys,” before she was on him, mouth over his, hands around his neck, and feet on his because she’d sink if she rose to tiptoes in the sand. The audience didn’t seem to bother him, as Parker wasted no time locking his arms at her back. Intent was in every push of his tongue, the press of his hips against hers. This was her agreement to sleep with him and his response celebrated that decision.

  Too soon he pulled back, raking his fingers through her hair as his breath shuddered over her cheeks. “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi,” she murmured. “How’d I do?”

  “Pass.” His white teeth flashed in the sun. “Next research task: dinner. Tomorrow night. Meet me downstairs at seven.”

  “Tomorrow night?” She couldn’t disguise the disappointment in her voice.

  “I’m working tonight.” With a flick of his eyes, he indicated the group behind him.

  “And right now,” she said, mainly to remind herself. She stepped away. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  “It’s sweltering. Do you want a lift back?”

  “I’ll be okay.” Not particularly wanting the awkwardness of being introduced to the others, she smiled and half-turned away. “Tomorrow at seven.”

  Then she started the long walk to Lullabar, stuck with Parker’s parting smile in her head and one of her own on her lips.

  Something had shifted. She felt tall, her mood high. Determination beat strong inside her. The uncertainty that had consumed her was gone. Not only was Parker interested in sleeping with her, but he knew everything. That she was inexperienced. That she needed sexual confidence for a film role. That she’d be leaving for LA at the end of it, no looking back.

  She brushed off the nag of nostalgia at that last thought. She missed Byron. Coming back had been like stepping into her old bedroom, a place out of time, a child’s sanctuary where everything held a precious memory. Like a mother-made bedspread and pencil marks on the wall, she saw the life she’d once lived in the beaches, burning sun, and community. In the music and markets in the streets, and surfing and swimming in the sea.

  And as much as her heart wanted to live by the waves, Alexia knew it was only the power of memory that made her ache to stay. She’d left for a reason. The only big breaks around here required a surfboard. There were few acting opportunities along the coast down under.

  She’d make one new memory worth keeping, then, and leave her sanctuary behind.

  *

  Parker was waiting when she arrived downstairs the following night. Lounging against the bar, talking to the woman serving drinks, he melted Alexia’s heart in denim shorts to the knee and a collared shirt. Unbuttoned at the top, untucked around the waist, but this surfer had dressed up all the same.

  She stood, pinning back the hair that had escaped her messy bun, and watched him turn. He spotted her and stilled. His eyes fell to her body and made no effort to get back up. So he liked the blue sundress. He pushed off the bar, pulled a basket from under the counter, and approached.

  Alexia smiled, disbelieving. She’d expected dinner in a restaurant or fish and chips on the beach. Parker hadn’t struck her as the picnicking type.

  “Contain your surprise,” he said, extending his hand. She took it and he led her outside. “Yes, I own a picnic basket. Not my fault. I’ve been taking long walks on the beach my whole life. It does sensitive things to a man.”

  Alexia eyed him. “Funny the barcode sticker is still on the side. Anyone would think you’d bought it today.”

  He peeled it off and jammed it into his pocket. He looked straight ahead. “That is funny.”

  She grinned.

  He took her to the hang gliding launch ramp at Cape Byron. It overlooked Tallow Beach, perched on the ridge where bushland observed the sea. Not enough wind for flying, so the ramp was vacant, an isolated spot, granting a spectacular outlook of the piercing blue water.

  “This is one of my favourite places,” he said.

  “I’ve only been here a few times.” She sat on the wooden boards and took in the view. “It’s stunning.”

  “You haven’t been up?” His eyes moved to the pastel blue sky.

  “Heights and I have arguments. I say nasty things. I don’t want to be that person anymore.”

  Parker’s blond brows drew together. “Is sitting here okay?”

  “Fine. Fabulous. Solid ground beneath me.” She patted the ramp affectionately. “No chance of falling to my demise.” She wriggled a little to be sure. “I’m good.”

  The trees blocked the evening sun and the water glittered down below. Alexia kicked off her sandals, loving the warmth of the wood beneath her legs.

  “Planes?” Parker asked, laying a linen cloth down beside the basket.

  “Little valium here, no window seat there.”

  The smile he slid at her flipped her belly. Then he unpacked olives and goats’ cheese, tapenade and crackers, tiny sandwiches, savoury pastries, and a bottle of wine. He poured the deep, red liquid into plastic glasses and offered one to her.

  “Thank you.” She tapped the rim against his. “And for the spread.”

  “I asked one of the chefs to pack it,” he admitted, sitting back and stretching out his legs. “Didn’t want to get it wrong. I haven’t taken a date on a
picnic before.”

  A date. Alexia’s smile faded.

  “Parker,” she said softly. “This isn’t the start of anything, you know.”

  He didn’t meet her gaze as he plucked up an olive. “I know.”

  “So don’t worry too much about it being special. I really just want this to be with someone I’m attracted to and you’ve got that covered.”

  He looked at the horizon, chewing.

  “So, you don’t have to be romantic,” she finished. It was safest to be practical—lust tick, emotion cross.

  He spoke as if he hadn’t heard her. “I finished watching season three last night.”

  A blatant topic shift. Alexia forced herself to follow. “Yeah?”

  “Utter cliff-hanger,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t wait for season four to find out about the Central Nervous System.”

  She chose a pastry. “Then hope it comes to you in a dream because I signed my silence with a contract.”

  “Have you told Dee?”

  “She’s claimed to cut off my hair as I sleep if I tell her even one spoiler.”

  He paused. “Her full name isn’t Delilah, by any chance?”

  “Doesn’t she know it?”

  He gave a distracted smile. “You’ll tell me.”

  No, she wouldn’t. “Can you imagine if the internet found out? Three seasons of build-up, wasted.”

  A sandwich halted halfway to his mouth. “You think I’d leak it?”

  Honestly? “I don’t know.”

  His features took on the competitive edge and she resigned to having set him a challenge. “On a different note.” His gaze ran down her bare legs. “It’s possible that several hundred thousand people have your face as their desktop background.”

  Such a gentleman to limit that observation to ‘face’. Alexia hadn’t adjusted to that aspect of fame. People obsessing over her features and figure, the characters she’d played, while knowing next to nothing about her personally. “You’re starting to get why I came to Australia for this.”

  “That black leather corset you wear,” Parker continued, feigning indifference. “You didn’t pack it, did you?”

  Her spirits sank. She’d been so sure he was attracted to her, not her character. “I’m not here to look like your every sexual fantasy.”