It was probably just as well to abandon tonight’s escapade. Her head was starting to ache and she felt overly hot. Maybe she was coming down with something? She would be better off in bed. Her bed. Alone. As usual.

She put down her cue and smiled at Tom the engineer. Her head was pounding now. ‘It’s been fun, Tom, but I’m going to have to call it a night.’

‘But it’s still early. I thought we could—’

‘No, really. It’s time I went home. I’m tired, and I’m not feeling well.’

‘Just one more drink,’ Tom slurred, reaching for her arm.

She stepped back, out of his reach. ‘I don’t think so.’

Tom lunged for her and managed to get his arms around her.

He was very drunk, but Ella wasn’t concerned. She’d been in these situations before and had always managed to extricate herself. Gently but firmly she started to prise Tom’s arms from around her. He took this as an invitation to kiss her and landed his very wet lips on one side of her mouth.

Yeuch.

Tom murmured something about how beautiful she was. Ella, still working at unhooking his arms, was in the middle of thanking him for the compliment when he suddenly wasn’t there. One moment she’d been disengaging herself from his enthusiastic embrace, and the next—air.

And then an Australian accent. ‘You don’t want to do that, mate.’

She blinked, focused, and saw that Aaron James was holding Tom in an embrace of his own, standing behind him with one arm around Tom’s chest. How had he got from the bar to the pool table in a nanosecond?

‘I’m fine,’ Ella said. ‘You can let him go.’

Aaron ignored her.

‘I said I’m fine,’ Ella insisted. ‘I was handling it.’

‘Yes, I could see that,’ Aaron said darkly.

‘I was,’ Ella insisted, and stepped forward to pull futilely at Aaron’s steel-band arm clamped across Tom’s writhing torso.

Tom lunged at the same time, and Ella felt a crack across her lip. She tasted blood, staggered backwards, fell against the table and ended up on the floor.

And then everything swirled. Black spots. Nothing.

The first thing Ella noticed as her consciousness returned was the scent. Delicious. Clean and wild, like the beach in winter. She inhaled. Nuzzled her nose into it. Inhaled again. She wanted to taste it. Did it taste as good as it smelled? She opened her mouth, moved her lips, tongue. One small lick. Mmm. Good. Different from the smell but … good.

Then a sound. A sharp intake of breath.

She opened her eyes. Saw skin. Tanned skin. White next to it. She shook her head to clear it. Oh, that hurt. Pulled back a little, looked up. Aaron James. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘What happened?’

‘That moron knocked you out.’

It came back at once. Tom. ‘Not on purpose.’

‘No, not on purpose.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Gone. Don’t worry about him.’

‘I’m not worried. He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.’ Ella moved again, and realised she was half lolling against Aaron’s thighs.

She started to ease away from him but he kept her there, one arm around her back, one crossing her waist to hold onto her from the front.

‘Take it easy,’ Aaron said.

A crowd of people had gathered around them. Ella felt herself blush for the second time that night. Intolerable, but apparently uncontrollable. ‘I don’t feel well,’ she said.

‘I’m not surprised,’ Aaron replied.

‘I have to get home,’ she said, but she stayed exactly where she was. She closed her eyes. The smell of him. It was him, that smell. That was … comforting. She didn’t know why that was so. Didn’t care why. It just was.

‘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

‘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.

Whew. Catastrophe averted.

‘A shame,’ she said. Her voice was cool and so were her eyes as she reached out to skim her fingernail over his right arm, at the top of his biceps where the sleeve of his T-shirt had been pushed up just enough to reveal the lower edge of a black tattoo circlet. Her lips turned up in an approximation of a smile. ‘Because I like tattoos. They’re a real turn-on for me. Would have been fun.’

He stared at her, fighting the urge to drag her back against his chest, not quite believing the disdainful humour he could hear in her voice, see in her eyes. Wondering if he’d imagined the yielding softness only moments ago.

At Tina and Brand’s wedding he’d sensed that there was something wrong with her. It had made him uncomfortable to be near her. Made him want to get away from her.

He had the same feeling now. Only this time he couldn’t get away. He would be damned if he’d let Tina’s sister stagger home drunk and disorderly, with a pounding head and a split lip. Oh, yeah, that’s the reason, is it? Tina?

Ella shrugged—a dismissive, almost delicate gesture. ‘But don’t worry, I won’t press you,’ she said calmly. ‘I’ve never had to beg for it in my life and I won’t start now, tattoos or not.’

She stood suddenly and smiled—the dazzling smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘I’d better go,’ she said.

‘I’ll take you home,’ he said, ignoring the taunt of all those men she hadn’t had to beg. None of his business.

‘I’ll walk.’

‘I’ll take you,’ Aaron insisted.

Ella laughed. ‘Okay, but I hope we’re not going to drag some poor driver out of bed.’

‘Where are you staying?’

‘Close enough. I can walk there in under ten minutes.’

‘Then we’ll walk.’

‘All right, then, lead on, Sir Galahad,’ Ella said lightly, mockingly.

And that was exactly why he didn’t like her.

Because she was just so unknowable. Contrary. Changeable. Ready to seduce him one moment and the next so cool. Poised. Amused. They made it to the street without him throttling her, which was one relief. Although he would have preferred a different relief—one for inside his jeans, because, heaven help him, it was painful down there. How the hell did she do that? Make him both want her and want to run a mile in the opposite direction?

Ella led off and Aaron fell into step beside her, conscious of her excruciatingly arousing perfume. The almost drugging combination of that scent, the damp heat, the sizzle and shout of the street stalls, the thumping music and wild shouts from the tourist bars, was so mesmerisingly exotic it felt almost like he was in another world. One where the normal rules, the checks and balances, didn’t apply.

The minutes ticked by. A steady stream of motorbikes puttered past. A short line of tuk-tuks carrying chatty tourists. Jaunty music from a group of street musicians. Sounds fading as he and Ella walked further, further.

‘Needless to say, tonight’s escapade is not something Tina needs to hear about,’ Ella said suddenly.

‘Needless to say,’ he agreed.

A tinkling laugh. ‘Of course, you wouldn’t want it getting back to your wife either. At least, not the latter part of the evening.’

‘Ex-wife,’ Aaron corrected her. He heard a dog barking in the distance. A mysterious rustle in the bushes near the road.

‘Ah.’ Ella’s steps slowed, but only very briefly. ‘But not really ex, I’m thinking, Sir Galahad.’

Aaron grabbed Ella’s arm, pulling her to the side of a dirty puddle she was about to step into. ‘It’s complicated,’ he said, when she looked at him.

She pulled free of the contact and started forward again.

‘But definitely ex,’ he added. And if she only knew the drug-fuelled hell Rebecca had put him through for the past three years, she would understand.

‘Oh, dear, how inconvenient! An ex who’s not really an ex. It must play havoc with your sex life.’

She laughed again, and his temper got the better of him.

The temper that he never lost.

‘What is wrong with you?’ he demanded, whirling her to face him.

She looked up at him, opened her mouth to say—

Well, who knew? Because before he could stop himself he’d slapped his mouth on hers in a devouring kiss.

Just what he didn’t want to do.

And she had the audacity to kiss him back. More than that—her arms were around him, her hands under his Tshirt.

Then he tasted blood, remembered her lip. Horrified, he pulled back. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

She ran her tongue across her lower lip, raised her eyebrows. ‘Definitely would have been fun,’ she said.

‘I’m not looking for a relationship,’ he said bluntly. And where had that come from? It seemed to suggest he was after something. But what? What was he after? Nothing—nothing from her.

It seemed to startle her, at least. ‘Did I ask for one?’

‘No.’

‘That’s a relief! Because I’m really only interested in casual sex. And on that note, how fortunate that we’re here. Where I live. So we can say our goodbyes, and both pretend tonight didn’t happen. No relationship. And, alas, no casual sex, because you’re married. Oh, no, that’s right, you’re not. But no sex anyway.’

‘I should have left you with the engineer.’

‘Well, I would have seen a lot more action,’ she said. She started forward and then stopped, raised her hand to her eyes.

‘What is it?’ Aaron asked.

‘Nothing. A headache,’ she answered. ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Goodbye, then,’ he said, and turned to walk back to the hotel.

A lot more action! Ha! Aaron was quite sure if he ever let himself put his hands on Ella Reynolds she wouldn’t be able to think about another man for a long time. Or walk straight either.

But he was not going to touch her, of course. Not.

Ella made her way to her room, cursing silently.

Her head was throbbing and her joints were aching and she longed to lapse into a thought-free coma. She’d just realised she’d contracted either malaria or dengue fever. She wasn’t sure which, but either way it sucked.

But when she’d taken two paracetamol tablets and clambered into bed, praying for a mild dose of whatever it was, it wasn’t the pain that made the tears come. It was shame. And regret. And a strange sense of loss.

Aaron James had wanted her. Ordinarily, a man wanting her would not cause Ella consternation. Lots of men had wanted her and she’d had no trouble resisting them.

But Aaron was different. He’d kissed her like he was pouring his strength, his soul into her. And yet he’d been able to fight whatever urge had been driving him.

Why? How?

She manhandled her pillow, trying to get it into a more head-cradling shape.

Not looking for a relationship—that’s what he’d said. How galling! As though it were something she would be begging for on the basis of one kiss. All right, one amazing kiss, but—seriously! What a joke. A relationship? The one thing she couldn’t have.

Ella sighed as her outrage morphed into something more distressing: self-loathing. Because she was a fraud and she knew it. A coward who used whatever was at her disposal to stop herself from confronting the wreck her life had become since Javier had been kidnapped in Somalia on her twenty-fifth birthday.

She’d been in limbo ever since. Feeling helpless, hopeless. Guilty that she was free and he was who-knew-where. In the year after his kidnapping she’d felt so lost and alone and powerless she’d thought a nervous breakdown had been on the cards.

And then she’d found Sann in a Cambodian orphanage, and life had beckoned to her again. Two years old, and hers. Or so she’d hoped. But he’d been taken too. He’d died, on her twenty-sixth birthday.

And now here she was on her twenty-seventh birthday. Still in limbo, with no idea of what had happened to Javier. Still grieving for Sann.

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