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‘All right, people, show’s over,’ Aaron said, and Ella realised he was telling their audience to get lost. He said something more specific to another man, who seemed to be in charge. She assumed he was pacifying the manager. She didn’t care. She just wanted to close her eyes.
‘Ella, your lip’s bleeding. I’m staying here at the hotel. Come to my room, let me make sure you’re all right, then I’ll get you home. Or to the hospital.’
She opened her eyes. ‘Not the hospital.’ She didn’t want anyone at the hospital to see her like this.
‘Okay—then my room.’
She wanted to say she would find her own way home immediately, but when she opened her mouth the words ‘All right’ were what came out. She ran her tongue experimentally over her lip. Ouch. Why hadn’t she noticed it was hurting? ‘My head hurts more than my lip. Did I hit it when I fell?’
‘No, I caught you. Let me …’ He didn’t bother finishing the sentence, instead running his fingers over her scalp. ‘No, nothing. Come on. I’ll help you stand.’
Aaron carefully eased Ella up. ‘Lean on me,’ he said softly, and Ella didn’t need to be told twice. She felt awful.
As they made their way out of the bar, she noted a few people looking and whispering, but nobody she knew. ‘I’m sorry about this,’ she said to Aaron. ‘Do you think anyone knows you? I mean, from the television show?’
‘I’m not well known outside Australia. But it doesn’t matter either way.’
‘I don’t want to embarrass you.’
‘I’m not easily embarrassed. I’ve got stories that would curl your hair. It’s inevitable, with three semi-wild younger sisters.’
‘I was all right, you know,’ she said. ‘I can look after myself.’
‘Can you?’
‘Yes. I’ve been doing it a long time. And he was harmless. Tom.’
‘Was he?’
‘Yes. I could have managed. I was managing.’
‘Were you?’
‘Yes. And stop questioning me. It’s annoying. And it’s hurting my head.’
They were outside the bar now and Aaron stopped. ‘Just one more,’ he said, and turned her to face him. ‘What on earth were you thinking?’
Ella was so stunned at the leashed fury in his voice she couldn’t think, let alone speak.
He didn’t seem to need an answer, though, because he just rolled right on. ‘Drinking like a fish. Letting that clown slobber all over you!’
‘He’s not a clown, he’s an engineer,’ Ella said. And then, with the ghost of a smile, ‘And fish don’t drink beer.’
He looked like thunder.
Ella waited, curious about what he was going to hurl at her. But with a snort of disgust he simply took her arm again, started walking.
He didn’t speak again until they were almost across the hotel lobby. ‘I’m sorry. I guess I feel a little responsible for you, given my relationship with Brand and Tina.’
‘That is just ridiculous—I already have a father. And he happens to know I can look after myself. Anyway, why are you here?’ Then, ‘Oh, yeah, I remember. The documentary.’ She grimaced. ‘Should I have known you’d be here now?’
‘I have no idea. Anyway, you’re supposed to be in LA.’
‘I was in LA. But now—It was a sudden decision, to come here. So it looks like we’ve surprised each other.’
‘Looks like it.’
Aaron guided Ella through a side door leading to the open air, and then along a tree-bordered path until they were in front of what looked like a miniature mansion. He would be in one of the presidential-style villas, of course. He didn’t look very happy to have brought her there, though.
‘How long will you be in town?’ she asked, as he unlocked the door.
‘Two weeks, give or take.’
‘So, you’ll be gone in two weeks. And I’ll still be here, looking after myself. Like I’ve always done.’ She was pleased with the matter-of-factness of her voice, because in reality she didn’t feel matter-of-fact. She felt depressed. She blamed it on the birthday.
Birthdays: misery, with candles.
‘Well, good for you, Ella,’ he said, and there was a definite sneer in there. ‘You’re doing such a fine job of it my conscience will be crystal clear when I leave.’
Hello? Sarcasm? Really? Why?
Aaron drew her inside, through a tiled hallway and into a small living room. There was a light on but no sign of anyone.
‘Is your son with you?’ she asked. Not that it’s any of your business, Ella.
‘Yes, he’s in bed.’
‘So you’ve got a nanny? Or is your wife—?’ Um, not your business?
‘Ex-wife. Rebecca is in Sydney. And, yes, I have a nanny, whose name is Jenny. I don’t make a habit of leaving my four-year-old son on his own in hotel rooms.’
Oh, dear, he really did not like her. And she was well on the way to actively disliking him. His attitude was a cross between grouchy father and irritated brother—without the familial affection that would only just make that bearable.
Aaron gestured for Ella to sit. ‘Do you want something to drink?’
Ella sank onto the couch. ‘Water, please.’
‘Good choice,’ Aaron said, making Ella wish she’d asked for whisky instead.
He went to the fridge, fished out a bottle of water, poured it into a glass and handed it to her. She didn’t deign to thank him.
She rubbed her forehead as she drank.
He was watching her. ‘Head still hurting?’
‘Yes.’
‘Had enough water?’
Ella nodded and Aaron took the glass out of her hand, sat next to her. He turned her so she was facing away from him. ‘Here,’ he said tetchily, and started kneading the back of her neck.
‘Ahhh …’ she breathed out. ‘That feels good.’
‘Like most actors, I’ve had a chequered career—massage therapy was one of my shorter-lived occupations but I remember a little,’ Aaron said, sounding not at all soothing like a massage therapist.
‘Where’s the dolphin music?’ she joked.
He didn’t bother answering and she decided she would not speak again. She didn’t see why she should make an effort to talk to him, given his snotty attitude. She swayed a little, and he pulled her closer to his chest, one hand kneading while he reached his other arm around in front of her, bracing his forearm against her collarbone to balance her.
She could smell him again. He smelled exquisite. So clean and fresh and … yum. The rhythmic movement of his fingers was soothing, even if it did nothing to ease the ache at the front of her skull. She could have stayed like that for hours.
Slowly, he finished the massage and she had to bite back a protest. He turned her to face him and looked at her lip. ‘It’s only a small tear. I have a first-aid kit in the bathroom.’
‘How very Triage of you, Aaron.’ He looked suitably unimpressed at that dig.
‘Just some ice,’ she said. ‘That’s all I need. And I can look after it myself. I’m a nurse, remember?’
But Aaron was already up and away.
He came back with a bowl of ice and the first-aid kit.
Ella peered into the kit and removed a square of gauze, then wrapped it around an ice cube. ‘It’s not serious and will heal quickly. Mouth injuries do. It’s all about the blood supply.’
Not that Aaron seemed interested in that piece of medical information, because he just took the wrapped ice from her impatiently.
‘I promise you I can do it myself,’ Ella said.
‘Hold still,’ he insisted. He held the ice on her bottom lip, kept it pressed there for a minute.
‘Open,’ he ordered, and Ella automatically opened her mouth for him to inspect inside. ‘Looks like you bit the inside of your lip.’ He grabbed another square of gauze, wrapped it around another cube of ice and pressed it on the small wound.
He was looking intently at her mouth and Ella started to feel uncomfortable. She could still smell that heavenly scent wafting up from his skin. Why couldn’t he smell like stale sweat like everyone else in that bar? She blinked a few times, trying to clear her fuzzy head.
Her eyes fell on his T-shirt and she saw a smear of blood on the collar. Her blood. Her fingers reached out, touched it. His neck, too, had a tiny speck of her blood. Seemingly of their own volition her fingers travelled up, rubbing at the stain. And then she remembered how it had got there. Remembered in one clear flash how she had put her mouth there, on his skin. She felt a flare of arousal and sucked in a quick breath.
He had gone very still. He was watching her. Looking stunned.
CHAPTER THREE (#u8dd48bc3-2426-5668-92e2-8417d33f14b1)
‘SORRY,’ ELLA SAID. ‘It’s just … I—I bled on you.’
‘Ella, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to touch me.’
‘Sorry,’ Ella said again, jerking her fingers away.
Aaron promptly contradicted himself by taking the hand she’d pulled away and pressing it against his chest. He could actually hear his heart thudding. It was probably thumping against her palm like a drum. He didn’t care. He wanted her hand on him. Wanted both her hands on him.
He could hear a clock ticking somewhere in the room, but except for that and his heart the silence was thick and heavy.
I don’t even like her. He said that in his head, but something wasn’t connecting his head to his groin, because just as the thought completed itself he tossed the gauze aside and reached for her other hand, brought it to his mouth, pressed his mouth there, kept it there.
Okay, so maybe you didn’t have to like someone to want them.
He really, really hadn’t expected to see her again. She was supposed to be in LA. Their ‘relationship’ should have begun and ended with one awkward conversation at a wedding.
And yet here he was. And here she was. And he had no idea what was going to happen next.
When he’d walked into that bar tonight and seen her with that idiot, he’d wanted to explode, drag her away, beat the guy senseless.
And he never lost his temper!
He’d been so shocked at his reaction he’d contemplated leaving the bar, going somewhere else—a different bar, for a walk, to bed, anything, anywhere else. But he hadn’t.
He’d only been planning on having one drink anyway, just a post-flight beer. But nope. He’d stayed, sensing there was going to be trouble. She’d laughed too much, drunk too much, Tom the idiot engineer had fondled her too much. Something was going to give.
And something definitely had.
And of course he’d been there smack bang in the middle of it, like he couldn’t get there fast enough.
And then his arms had been around her. And she’d snuggled against him. Her tongue on his neck. And he’d wanted her. Wanted her like he’d never wanted anyone in his life.
And it had made him furious.
Was making him furious now.
So why was he moving the hand he’d been holding to his mouth down to his chest, instead of letting it go?
His hands were only lightly covering hers now. She could break away if she wanted to. Bring him back to sanity. Please.
But she didn’t break away.
Her hands moved up, over his chest to his collarbones then shoulders. Confident hands. Direct and sure.
He stifled a groan.
‘You don’t want me.’ She breathed the words. ‘You don’t like me.’ But her hands moved again, down to his deltoids, stopping there. Her fingers slid under the short sleeves of his T-shirt, stroked.
This time the groan escaped as his pulse leapt.
Ella moved closer to him, sighed as she surrounded him with her arms, rested the side of her face against his chest then simply waited.
He battled himself for a long moment. His hand hovered over her hair. He could see the tremor in his fingers. He closed his eyes so the sight of her wouldn’t push him over the edge. That only intensified the sexy smell of her. Ella Reynolds. Tina’s sister. ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I can’t do this.’ Was that his voice? That croak?
He waited, every nerve tingling. Didn’t trust himself to move. If he moved, even a fraction …
Then he heard her sigh again; this time it signalled resignation, not surrender.
‘No, of course not,’ she said, and slowly disentangled herself until she was sitting safely, separately, beside him.
