by Robyn Grady
She was dancing!
They danced until the night air grew too cold on her arms. Alex removed his jacket and, moving behind her, drew the warm black fabric over her shoulders. As he stood once more in front of her, she peered up into his gaze, dark grey and intense in the shadows, and suddenly the awareness of what throbbed between them, of what they’d shared in just over a day, became too much.
She thought she’d loved Scott but the feelings she had for her ex seemed childish beside the intensity of the sensations Alex brought out in her. From the first moment they’d met, he’d touched a place within her she hadn’t known about. What she felt now was beyond anything she could ever have believed could exist between a man and woman. It was exhilarating. Thrilling. And way more than a little scary.
She was feeling so much so soon. For so many reasons it wouldn’t be wise to let herself feel too much more.
Libby blew out a shaky breath and stepped back. She needed some space to get her whirling thoughts together, so she headed toward the water and gazed out over the dark undulating blanket of the sea. She filled her lungs with fresh briny air, not surprised that the constant crash of waves, the ocean’s thunderous heartbeat, matched her own.
At her back, Alex’s natural heat enveloped her and his rich voice touched her ear, spreading ripples of intense pleasure over every inch of her skin.
‘You’re still cold?’
Smiling, she snuggled down into his jacket and huddled back against him. ‘I’m just right.’
‘Are you sure? That breeze is fresh. I flicked on the heater in case.’
She angled around. Sure enough, a tall outdoor heater was set up to one side of the marquee. Its large grate was glowing red. Deep inside the softly lit tent sat a plush divan with piles of comfy-looking cushions. A fluffy white blanket lay folded at one end.
She arched a brow. ‘This is all very convenient.’
Not bothering to hide a grin, he ushered her toward the divan. ‘Isn’t it?’
After settling back against a pile of pillows set in one corner, she waved away his offer of champagne. She only wanted to snuggle beneath that blanket and drink in the enchanting view with Alex’s strength and heat supporting her.
When Alex joined her, he shook out the blanket and tucked the soft folds in. ‘Warm enough?’
Burrowing into him, she sighed against his chest. ‘Now I am.’
They sat together, her legs curled up to one side, the heater emitting a warm ghostly glow while the moonlit sea stretched out before them to infinity.
With her cheek resting against his chest, he was stroking her shoulder when he noted,
‘The moon on the water looks like a net cast with pearls.’
She examined the sea, then sat up and gave him a curious look. ‘You really have a thing for pearls, don’t you?’
He chuckled. ‘Not before meeting you, I swear. Maybe it was our conversation the other day over lunch—’ his palm traced over her crown ‘—or perhaps it’s the lustre of your hair that reminds me whenever we’re together.’
Libby considered his words. She supposed pearls could be the jewel for her. Diamonds sure as heck hadn’t worked. The cluster she’d worn as an engagement ring had been gorgeous but had never been truly special to her, no doubt because Scott hadn’t presented her with a ring when he’d proposed. After many embarrassing questions from friends and family, she’d gone and bought her own. After everything had fallen apart, she’d been so disillusioned she’d sworn never to wear another diamond on her finger. But pearls …
Yes. Maybe pearls.
But then, ‘My gran used to say pearls mean tears.’ Guess that suited too; she’d shed a few in her life.
‘In some religions pearls represent completeness.’
She laughed. ‘Is there anything you’re not an expert on?’
He leaned forward and his lips skimmed hers. ‘I plan to learn a lot more about you.’
His mouth slanted over hers and any chill in the air seemed to evaporate into steam. As the temperature beneath the blanket climbed, Libby’s thoughts drifted back to pearls, the mysteries they seemed to conceal, and how Alex continued to uncover so many previously depressed levels inside of her.
She trembled at the welcome pressure of his hand ironing over her bodice. Then he was delving beneath the cup, the pad of his thumb rubbing the tight aching peak and reducing her insides to liquid fire. Leaning in, she measured the broad expanse of his chest beneath his shirt, marvelling at how something as simple as feeling the crisp crinkle beneath her palm could bring out such intensely charged emotions. The invisible zip at the side of her gown came down and her breasts, and any remaining inhibitions, were freed.
As his touch brushed bare skin, remembered sensations from the night before and this afternoon transformed and condensed into a physical need, pulsing and burning until she thought she might faint from the hunger.
When he broke the kiss and urged her gently away, her nerve-endings were sizzling.
She didn’t want him to stop. She only wanted to feel him naked and bearing down. But when he lifted her chin, her heavy eyelids dragged open and she realised with a start where they were. Away from prying eyes but still in a public place.
And she couldn’t care less.
His voice was a drugging whisper at the shell of her ear. ‘Your gown will be crushed.’
‘Do you think I care?’
He smiled and she tilted her weight against him until he lay back on the pillows, then she made short work of his trouser fastenings. Over the distant thunder of waves, she heard the metallic burr of his zipper easing down. Alex’s chest expanded on a giant breath and, his gaze burning, he tugged off his trousers at the same time she leaned forward and dropped a lingering kiss an inch above his navel.
Her tongue wove a trail down the arrow of dark hair that led to his thighs and soon her mouth connected with that part of him that didn’t know the meaning of the word reserved.
Circling the top of his shaft with her hand, she dragged her fingers down, then looped her tongue around the hot tip twice.
His hips arched up and he clutched a sequined pillow near her head. With him braced, she slid her lips down over the head of his erection at the same time her fisted hand came back up.
‘Libby …’ She heard him swallow. ‘This could get dangerous.’
She hummed out her approval and went down again.
* * *
After organising a late checkout from the penthouse, she and Alex spent the remainder of the day in Surfers. Midmorning they enjoyed an ice cream in famous Cavill Avenue, where great restaurants, beach umbrellas and micro bikinis ruled. For a bit of fun, they checked out the Wax Museum, the largest in the southern hemisphere, and marvelled at the lifelike replicas of so many singers, royal members and notorious villains. Libby commented in all sincerity it shouldn’t be long before they commissioned a likeness of him.
For lunch, they stopped in for some live music, a couple of thick-cut steaks and Queensland ales at the Surfers Paradise Tavern, a local icon established back in 1925 when Surfers was a small isolated town that went by the name of Elston. When someone started belting out the chorus of a famous Slim Dusty tune, everyone joined in, including Alex.
Alex was certainly a complex character—he could be alpha-annoying, inherently charming, and there were also times when he seemed so distracted and remote. But as Alex laughed and clapped and sang along with the crowd now, Libby knew this was who he wanted to be. Who he could be. Relaxed. Real.
Midafternoon, the limo collected them and started inland. No matter how much she begged, Alex wouldn’t let on where they were going. Thirty minutes later they pulled into a magnificent rural property, with an extravagant ranch-style mansion.
Slipping out of the limo, Libby took in the spectacular far-reaching grounds. ‘This is yours?’
‘A friend’s.’
‘You want to catch up while we’re here?’
‘He’s in Italy.’
> She frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Darren’s an old driving buddy. When he retired, he missed the thrill so much, he built his own track.’
Understanding, she smiled. ‘You’re going to take a car for a spin.’ With her watching.
Frankly, she couldn’t wait to see Alex in action—as long as he, and his shoulder, didn’t overdo it.
‘I am indeed going for a spin.’ He took her hand. ‘And you’re coming with me.’
Libby’s heart tripped over several beats. In her own car, she hated to go past 100 k’s.
Surfing had its dangers, certainly, but simply thinking of the kind of speeds Alex merely cruised at on a track left her mind reeling and stomach somersaulting.
She stammered and stuttered and said she couldn’t possibly but, as usual, Alex wouldn’t take no for an answer. And when Libby remembered the night before—walking along the beach, dancing beneath the stars—amazingly she found she could find the courage for this as well.
Ten minutes later they had donned helmets and were buckling up. The track unwinding before them looked very much like the professional circuits Libby had seen on cable. As Alex kicked in the engine, she told herself to relax and enjoy the experience. Didn’t help that her knuckles had turned white, gripping her thighs.
‘This here is one fast car.’
‘Convertible,’ she added, feeling even more vulnerable with the top down. She moistened dry lips. ‘Just how fast are we going to go?’
He reached for her knee and squeezed. ‘You don’t want to know.’
Alex stepped on the pedal—floored it, in fact. The car flew off and Libby left a screaming laugh behind.
They went from naught to three thousand kilometres per hour in three point five seconds. Or that’s how it felt. With wind blasting through her hair, scared out of her wits, Libby hung on and told herself she was not only in the hands of a professional, she was in the care of the best. Everything might be belting by in a blur. Common sense said if they crashed they would die. Just when she thought her pulse couldn’t race any faster she saw the sweeping bend up ahead.
Her jaw dropping, she swung a horrified look at Alex’s concentrated profile. His eyes were narrowed, his hands firm on the vibrating wheel, a smile of pure exhilaration tugged on his lips. He changed down, she held her breath and they took the turn with his foot still down.
All four tyres skidded sideways, drifting around the arching corner as if they’d hit black ice.
Libby let go a wailing scream.
Over the roar of the engine and whistle of the wind, Alex heard Libby’s shriek of horrified delight and, righting the car, laughed out loud.
Priceless.
It hadn’t hit until this minute but he’d never been in this situation before—in a car on a track with a woman. Until today, he’d never considered the possibility. But as he gunned the 650 horsepower engine down the far straight, he realised this was a first in more than one way.
Whenever he hit a track, he was unfailingly focused on bettering himself, achieving his best, but today wasn’t about career or proving anything. Not in the typical sense, in any case. He only wanted to have fun or, more correctly, he wanted Libby to have fun. From what he could see of the stretched smile on her face through the hair whipping around her head, it seemed he’d achieved precisely that.
By eight, they were back at Sydney Airport, where the limousine was parked ready to take them home. But Libby’s mind was still spinning. The night away had been amazing enough without that unbelievable experience on the track this afternoon. She thought she had a good grip on who Alex Wolfe was, but she’d only known half of it. After that wild, hair-raising ride, she’d come to appreciate in a way she couldn’t have before what got him so jazzed about racing and why he was fighting tooth and nail to keep on top: to hold onto that fabulous sense of freedom combined with the ultimate sense of control.
Alex waited until they’d pulled up outside her apartment block before he took her hand and said, ‘Come back to Rose Bay with me.’
Wanting to so badly, she closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘That’s not a good idea.’
‘I think it’s a great idea.’
He leaned closer—his shoulders, his mouth—but she put both hands against his chest and explained, ‘I need to be up early, and if I go back to your house I won’t get any sleep.’
They were both running on adrenaline as it was.
He seemed to think her excuse through, then reluctantly agreed.
‘In that case …’ He reached into the limo’s side door pocket and retrieved a small pink plastic bag. He looked at it awkwardly as if debating what to do with it. Then he offered it over.
‘I bought you a gift.’
She blinked first at him, then at the bag. ‘What is it?’
‘Open it and see.’
With an uncertain smile, she accepted the bag and slid the contents into her palm. She sighed at what she saw. A gold clamshell, the size of a dessertspoon, held a bed full of glittering light blue stones. Dotted amongst those stones sat three separate creamy beads the size of freshwater pearls. A clasp was linked to the top of the shell.
Beside her, Alex leaned close. ‘I picked it up at one of those tourist stores. The blue stones symbolise the sea. The pearls represent the past, present and the future. I thought it suited you.’
Libby’s heart beat high in her throat. It was a trinket, an inexpensive charm that he’d put real thought into, and she loved it!
Over the thickness in her throat, she murmured, ‘It’s perfect.’ She’d never known anything more perfect.
He curled some hair away from her flushed cheek. ‘I’ll walk you up.’
She lowered the charm. It had been an incredible couple of days but she couldn’t think about saying goodnight to Alex at the building entrance or her apartment door. He might suggest coming in and, the way she felt now—the way she’d felt all weekend—she wouldn’t be able to turn him away. Tonight she needed to.
‘If you walk me to the door,’ she said, ‘you’ll kiss me and, before I know it, I’ll be tugging you inside. We both need some sleep.’
His brow furrowed and a muscle in his jaw flexed twice but finally he nodded and knocked on the glass partition, signalling the driver to collect her luggage and open her door.
‘Thank you for a wonderful weekend,’ she said, her heart so full she thought it might burst.
‘We’ll do it again soon.’
But he didn’t mention specifics … didn’t mention the wedding … and after an all-too-brief kiss goodnight, the driver opened her door and carried her luggage to the building entrance. She let herself in, heard the purr of the limo’s engine as it pulled out from the curb, then she gazed down again at the pearl charm in her hand. If not for this, she might think it was all some fantastic dream.
Feeling so churned up inside, she held her stomach. Before this weekend she’d known Alex was scorching. Now she found his company positively irresistible and for way more reasons than his looks and his charm. Everything she’d learned about him … everything she’d confessed about herself …
Alex Wolfe was a complex person. A world-renowned celebrity. A man who had helped her face some fierce, long-held fears. He was more than any woman could hope for and Libby simply couldn’t deny it any longer.
She was falling in love.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, Libby dragged herself into her office. She felt groggy. Not surprising given her lack of sleep the night before. After tossing and turning till dawn, in hindsight, it might have been easier if Alex had walked her to the door. At least she wouldn’t have woken up lonely.
Instead she’d placed the pearl charm on her bedside table and had lain awake watching the imitation jewels sparkle in the moonlight while going over every moment of her amazing weekend with Alex Wolfe … her client. Her lover.
The superstar sportsman with the shoulder she’d agreed to put through a thorough examination tw
o days from now.
If she found him unfit to drive, Alex had said he’d take her to that family wedding. But he hadn’t mentioned it last night when he’d dropped her home. He was banking on his injury passing her assessment. And if she found his joint needed more time to heal … The former athlete in her said he wouldn’t take the news well.
But she couldn’t give him a green light simply to make him happy, she told herself, crossing her office’s reception area. And if he was half the man she’d come to believe him to be, even if he were unhappy, Alex would understand her position. He might be upset with the situation but he wouldn’t be angry. At least, not with her.
Behind her desk, Payton glanced up. Her mouth rounded before she dropped her head and disappeared behind the counter’s top lip.
Libby looked around. Had she missed something?
‘Payton … everything all right?’
Peering back over the counter, Payton gave a coy look. ‘How was your, uh, weekend?’
‘My weekend?’ Libby’s stomach flip-flopped twice. ‘How did you know—?’
Then she saw a celebrity magazine open on the desk and the half-page shot of her and Alex checking in at the casino Saturday afternoon. All her strength funnelled through her middle and out her toes. Baby-fawn weak, she let the counter help hold her up while she croaked out, ‘Is that the only picture?’
‘In this magazine. There was another one out on Friday.’
From her desk’s top drawer, Payton slid out another magazine, folded to a page, to a snap, of Alex and some unidentifiable female he was kissing in the entrance of an apartment block.
Looking uncomfortable, Payton wriggled back in her seat. ‘I’m guessing the woman Alex Wolfe’s kissing is you.’
Libby remembered Alex’s hesitation on the Manly esplanade on Saturday morning when he’d noticed a small group studying him. She remembered that one of the group had held a magazine. Now she knew what had amused them so much: they’d seen her and Alex walking together and were speculating on whether he was really the Alex Wolfe and if she was the woman in the photo.
Slipping against the counter edge, Libby held her woozy head. This was worse than she’d ever imagined. As Payton suggested, it wasn’t certain who the woman in that kissing photo was but it wouldn’t be hard to put two and two together after this additional clearer shot taken on the Gold Coast.
