A Secret Worth Keeping?: Living the Charade / Her Shameful Secret / Island of Secrets

He passed another car and Miller absently noted that after her earlier panicked response he was driving marginally less like a racing car driver. That thought triggered something in her mind and her brow furrowed.

Determined to ignore him for the rest of the trip, she pulled her laptop out of her computer bag.

‘What happened to the getting-to-know-you part of our trip?’

He threw her a sexy smile that shot the hazy memory she’d been trying to grab on to out of her head and replaced it with an image of the way he had insolently leant against the bar last night.

‘I know you run, swim, work out, and that you take your coffee black. Your favourite colour is blue and you have four siblings—’

‘I also don’t mind a cuddle after sex.’

‘And you don’t have a serious bone in your body. I, on the other hand, take my life very seriously and I am not interested in whether you like sex straight up or hanging from a chandelier. It’s not relevant. What I’m looking for this weekend is someone to melt into the background and say very little. Starting right now.’

* * *

Tino smiled as he revved the engine and manoeuvred the Aston Martin around a tourist bus. He hadn’t enjoyed himself this much in...he couldn’t remember.

He was in a hot car, driving down a wide country highway on a warm spring afternoon, completely free from having to answer questions about his recent spate of accidents, his car or the coming race. The experience was almost blissful.

With any luck his anonymity would hold and he’d forget the pressure of being the world’s number one racing driver on an unlucky streak. Because, as he’d told Sam, it was all media hoopla and coincidence anyway, and he’d prove it Sunday week.

He glanced at the stiff woman beside him and involuntarily adjusted his jeans. He hadn’t expected her to give him a hard-on but she had. Which was surprising, given that her black linen trousers and matching shirt were about as provocative as a nun’s habit.

His eyes drifted over the blade-straight hair that curtained her delicate profile from his view down over her elegant neck to the gentle swell of her breasts. Was she wearing lace underneath? By the blush that had crept into her face before he’d guess yes. The thought made him smile, and his gaze lingered on her hands as they poised over her computer keys.

She had an effortless sensuality that drew him, and whenever she glared at him hot sparks of sexual arousal threatened to burn him up.

They’d be good together. He knew it. It was just a pity he had no intention of using the weekend to test his theory.

He wasn’t looking for a relationship right now, sexual or otherwise, and he had very strict guidelines about how women fitted into his life. The last thing he wanted was a woman getting into his headspace and worrying about whether or not he was going to buy it on the track every time he raced. He’d seen it too many times before, and no way would anyone land him with that kind of guilty pressure.

He still remembered the day he had watched his father clip the rear wheel of another car, flip over and slam into a concrete barrier. It had been one of those races that had reinvigorated race safety procedures and it had changed Tino’s life for ever. He’d still known that he would follow in his father’s footsteps, but after feeling helpless in the face of his beloved mother’s grief, and fighting his own pain at losing his father, he’d locked his emotions away so tight he wasn’t sure he’d recognise them any more.

Which was a bonus in a sport where emotions were considered dangerous, and his cool, roguish demeanour scared the hell out of most of his rivals.

His approach was so different from his father’s attitude to the sport he’d loved. His father had tried to have it all, but what he should have done was choose family or racing. Emotional attachments and their job didn’t mix. Any fool knew that.

CHAPTER THREE

‘THIS it?’ Valentino pulled the car onto the shoulder of the road and Miller glanced up from following the GPS navigator on her smartphone.

‘Yes.’ Miller read the plaque on the massive brick pillar that housed a set of enormous iron gates: ‘Sunset Boulevard.’ So typical of TJ’s delusions of grandeur, Miller thought tetchily.

Valentino announced them through the security speakers, and the sports car crunched over loose gravel as he pulled around the circular driveway and stopped between an imposing front portico and a burbling fountain filled with frolicking cherubs holding gilded bows and arrows.

‘Who’s your client?’

Miller didn’t answer. She was too busy staring at the enormous pink-tinged stone mansion that looked as if it had been airlifted directly from the Amalfi Coast in Italy and set down in the middle of this arid Australian beach scrub—lime-green lawns and all.

Her car door opened and she automatically accepted Valentino’s extended hand. And regretted it. A sensation not unlike an electric shock bolted up her arm and shot sparks all the way down her legs.

Her eyes flew to his in surprise, but his expression was so blank she felt slightly stupid. At least that answered her earlier unasked question. No, he didn’t find her attractive; he’d just been enjoying himself at her expense.

She registered the opening of a high white front door in her peripheral vision and felt her world right itself when Valentino dropped her hand.

‘Miller. You made good time.’

She glanced towards her boss.

‘And I can see why.’ Dexter stared at Valentino and then cast his appreciative eyes over the silver bullet they’d driven down in.

A bulky figure followed Dexter down the stone steps and she pasted a confident smile on her face when TJ Lyons ambled forward like a cattle tycoon straight off the station.

‘Well, now, isn’t this a surprise?’ he boomed.

Suddenly conscious of Valentino behind her, Miller nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt his large hand settle on her hip. Both men looked at him, eyes agog, as if he was the Dalai Lama come to pay homage.

‘Dexter, TJ—this is—’

‘We know who he is, Miller.’ Dexter almost blustered, sticking his hand out towards Valentino. ‘Tino Ventura. It’s a pleasure. Dexter Caruthers—partner at OCG. Oracle Consultancy Group.’

Valentino took his hand in a firm handshake and a cog shifted in Miller’s brain.

Tino?

‘Maverick,’ TJ said, addressing Valentino.

Maverick?

Had TJ and Dexter mistaken Valentino for someone they knew?

Valentino smiled and accepted their greetings like an old friend.

No! He couldn’t possibly know her client!

‘Miller, you dark horse,’ TJ guffawed, slapping Valentino on the back. ‘You certainly play your cards close to your chest. I’m impressed.’

Impressed? Miller looked up at Valentino, and just as her boss started asking him about the injury he’d incurred in a motor race in Germany last August his name slotted into place inside Miller’s head.

Tino Ventura—international racing car legend.

She would have stumbled if Valentino hadn’t tightened his hand on her hip to steady her.

She swore under her breath. Valentino must have heard it because he immediately took charge. ‘It’s been a long drive, gents. We’ll save this conversation for dinner.’

Miller smiled through clenched teeth as he took their bags from the car and handed them to a waiting butler.

‘Roger, please show our esteemed guests to their room,’ TJ said, turning to the formally dressed man.

‘Certainly. Sir? Madam?’

Miller refused to meet Dexter’s eyes even though he was burning a hole right through her with his open curiosity.

She deliberately moved out of Valentino’s reach as he went to place his hand at the small of her back. Her skin was still tingling from his earlier unexpected hold on her.

Ignoring his piercing gaze, Miller concentrated on keeping her legs steady as she preceded him up the stone steps.

Tino Ventura!

How had she not put two and two together? It was true that she didn’t follow sport in any capacity, but as the only Australian driver in the most prestigious motor race in the world she should have recognised him. It was being introduced to him as Valentino that had thrown her, but even then, she conceded with an audible sigh, she’d been so stressed and distracted she might not have made the connection.

None of that, however, changed the fact that he should have told her who he was. That thought fired her temper all the way up the ornate rosewood staircase, ruining any appreciation she might have had of the priceless artworks lining the vast hallways of TJ’s house.

Not that she cared about TJ’s house. Right now she didn’t care about anything but giving Valentino Ventura a piece of her mind for deceiving her.

‘Stop thinking, Miller.’

Valentino’s deep voice behind her sent a shiver skittering down her spine.

‘You’re starting to hurt my head.’

‘This is your room, madam. Sir.’

The butler pushed open a door and Miller followed him inside. The room was spacious, and a tasteful combination of modern and old-world. At the far end was a large bay window with sweeping ocean views encompassing paper-white sand and an ocean that shifted from the brightest turquoise to a deep navy.

‘Mr Lyons and his guests are about to adjourn to the rear terrace for cocktails. Dinner is to be served in half an hour.’

‘Thank you.’ Valentino closed the door after the departing butler. ‘Okay, out with it,’ he prompted, mimicking her wide-legged stance with his arms folded across his chest.

Miller stared at him for a minute but said nothing, her mind suddenly taken up by the size of the four-poster bed that dominated the large room. She glanced around for a sofa and found an antique settee, an armchair and a curved wooden bench seat inlaid into the bay window.

She heard Valentino move and her eyes followed his easy gait as he perched on the edge of the bed, testing the mattress. ‘Comfy.’

He smiled, and she fumed even more because she knew he was laughing at her discomfort. ‘I’m not sleeping with you in that,’ she informed him shortly.

‘Oh, come on, Miller. It’s big enough for six people.’

Six people her size, maybe... Why hadn’t she thought of the sleeping arrangements before now?

Probably because her mind had been too concerned with finishing her proposal and she hadn’t wanted to dwell on the fact she was even in this predicament. But she was in it, and it was time to face it and work out how she was going to make this farce work with her fake and very famous boyfriend.

‘It would have been nice if you had thought to let me know who you are,’ she said waspishly.

‘I did tell you my name. And my job.’

Miller pressed her lips together as she took in his cavalier tone and relaxed demeanour. That was true—up to a point. ‘You must have known that I didn’t recognise you.’ She paced away from him, unable to stand still under his disturbing grey-blue gaze.

Valentino shrugged. ‘If I’d thought it was going to be an issue I would have mentioned it.’

‘How could you think it wouldn’t be?’ she fumed, stopping mid-pace to stare at him. ‘Everyone in the country knows who you are.’

‘You didn’t.’

‘That’s because I don’t follow sport, but... Oh, never mind. I need to use the bathroom and think.’

After splashing cold water on her face Miller glanced at her pale reflection and thought about what she knew about her fake boyfriend other than the garbage he’d thrown at her in the car. Taxi driver... How he would laugh if he knew she had entertained that thought for a while.

Okay, no need to rehash that embarrassing notion. It was time to think. Strategise.

She knew he was a world-class athlete and a world-class womaniser with a penchant for blonde model-types—although she couldn’t recall where she’d read that, or how long ago. Regardless, it still made it highly improbable that they would be seeing each other. And she knew everyone who saw them together would be thinking the same thing—including Dexter, who would not be backward in asking the question.

Of course she’d refuse to answer it—she never mixed business with her personal life—but Dexter was shrewd. And he’d be too curious about her “relationship” to take it lying down. Anyone who knew her would. Serious, ambitious Miller Jacobs and international playboy Valentino Ventura a couple?

God, what a mess. They had as much in common as a grasshopper with an elephant.

‘You planning to hide out in there for the rest of the weekend?’

His amused voice brought her head around to stare at the closed door. Wrenching it open, she found herself momentarily breathless when she found him filling the space, one arm raised to rest across the top of the doorjamb, making him seem impossibly tall.

She pushed past him and tried to ignore the skitters of sensation that raced through her as her body brushed his. Anger. It was only anger firing her blood.

Taking a couple of calming breaths, she turned to face him. ‘No one is going to believe we’re a couple.’

‘Why not?’

Miller rolled her eyes. ‘For one, I don’t exactly mix in your circles. And for two, I’m not your type and you’re not mine.’

‘You’re a woman. I’m a man. We share a mutual attraction we can’t ignore. Happens all the time.’

To him, maybe.

Miller smoothed her brows, her mind filled with an endless list of problems. ‘You’re right. We can’t say we met at yoga...’

‘Listen, you’re blowing this out of proportion. Let’s keep it as close to the truth as we can. We met at a bar. Liked each other. End of story. That way you’ll feel more comfortable and it’s highly probable—not to mention true.’

Except for the liking part. Right now Miller couldn’t recall liking anyone less.

Valentino opened his bag on the bed.

‘Why are you here?’ she asked softly.

His eyes met hers. Held. ‘You know why I’m here,’ he said, just as softly. ‘You challenged me to be here.’

Miller arched an eyebrow. ‘I thought you said you were thirty-three, not thirteen.’

A crooked grin kicked up the corners of his mouth and he pulled his shirt up over his rippling chest. Lord, did men really look that good unairbrushed?

Last night’s dream flashed before her eyes and she was relieved when he turned his back on her. Only then she got to view his impressive back, and her eyes automatically followed the line of his spine indented between lean, hard muscle. ‘What exactly are you doing?’

He dropped his T-shirt on the bed and turned to face her. ‘Changing my shirt for dinner. I don’t want to embarrass you by coming across too casual to meet your friends.’

Ha! Now that she knew who he was she knew he’d impress everyone downstairs even in a clown suit.

* * *

Tino shrugged into his shirt and tiny pinpricks of heat glanced across his back as he felt Miller’s eyes on him. A powerful surge of lust and the desire to press her up against the nearest wall and explore the attraction simmering between them completely astounded him. He’d been trying to keep things light and breezy between them—his usual modus operandi—but his libido was insistently arguing the toss.

‘Next time I’d prefer you to use the bathroom,’ she said stiffly. ‘And these people aren’t my friends. They’re business colleagues—although as to that I doubt I’ll know many of the other people in attendance.’

‘How many are staying here?’

‘I think six others tonight. Tomorrow night at TJ’s fiftieth party I have no idea.’

‘I thought this was a business weekend?’

‘TJ likes to multi-task.’

Tino rolled his silk shirt sleeves and noticed her frowning at his forearms. ‘Problem?’

His question galvanised her into action and she crossed to her small suitcase and started rifling through it.

‘I’ll be ten minutes.’

Five minutes later she reappeared in the doorway and padded over to the wardrobe. She barely looked different from the way she had when she’d gone in. Black tailored pants, a black beaded top, and a thin pink belt bissecting the two. She perched on the armchair and secured a fancy pair of stilettos on her dainty feet. The silence between them was deafening.

‘Am I getting the silent treatment?’

She exhaled slowly and he noticed the way the beads on her top swayed from side to side. ‘I hope you’re not currently in a relationship.’

‘Would I be here with you if I was?’

‘I don’t know. Would you?’

Her chin had come up and he was surprised he had to control irritation at her deliberate slur. She didn’t know him, and he supposed, given his reputation—which wasn’t half as extensive as the press made out—it was a valid question.

‘Okay, I’m going to humour that question with an answer—because we don’t know each other and I understand you feel compromised by the fact that I’m a known personality. I don’t date more than one woman at a time and I never cheat.’

‘Fine. I just...’ Her hand fluttered between them. ‘If we really were going out you’d know I hate surprises.’

‘Why is that?’

She glanced away. ‘I just do.’

Her answer was clipped and he knew there was a story behind her flat tone.

‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance you can just fade into the background and not draw attention to yourself, is there?’

Tino nearly laughed. So much for coming on to him once she found out who he was. He shook his head at his own arrogance. But, hell, most women he met simpered and preened and asked stupid questions about how many cars he owned and how fast he drove. This gorgeous female was still treating him like a disease. And she was gorgeous. She’d dusted her sexy mouth with a peach-coloured gloss that made him want to lick it right off.

‘We need to go downstairs.’ She sounded as if she was about to face a firing squad.

She grabbed a black wrap from the back of the cream chair and stopped suddenly, nearly colliding with him. He felt a shaft of heat spear south as he touched her elbow to steady her, and knew she felt the same buzz by the way she pulled back and went all wide-eyed with shock, just as she had by the car.

A shock he himself still felt. He hadn’t anticipated being this physically attracted to her. He reminded himself of his iron-clad rule of not getting involved with a woman this close to the end of the season—particularly this season, which had started going pear-shaped three months ago.

So why couldn’t he stop imagining how she would taste if he kissed her?

He stepped back from her, out of the danger zone. ‘You might want to think about not jumping six feet in the air every time I touch you.’ He sounded annoyed because he was.

‘And you might want to think about not touching me.’

Large aquamarine eyes, alight with slivers of the purest gold, stared up at him, and the ability to think flew out of his head. Her eyes reminded him of a rare jewel.

Then she blinked, breaking the spell.

Get a grip, Ventura. Since when did you start comparing eyes to jewels?

‘You really have the most extraordinary eyes,’ he found himself saying appreciatively. ‘A little glacial right now, but extraordinary nonetheless.’

‘I don’t care what you think of my eyes. This isn’t real so I don’t need your empty compliments.’

How about the back of my hand across your tidy tush? The thought brought a low hum of pleasure winging through his body. He did his best to ignore it. ‘Are you usually this rude or do I just bring out the best in you?’

Her shoulders slumped and she stepped back to put more space between them. ‘I’m sorry. I’m...uncomfortable. This weekend is important to me. I wish I’d just given you chicken pox and handled everything myself. I let Ruby convince me this would be a good idea.’

Tino felt contrite at her obvious distress. ‘Everything will be fine. Just think of us as two people going away for a weekend to have some fun. You’ve done that in the past, surely.’

‘Of course,’ she said, her reply a little too quick and a little too defensive. ‘It’s just that I would never choose to come away for a weekend with a man like you.’

He stiffened even though he knew by her tone that she was being honest rather than deliberately insulting, but, hell, he had his limits. ‘What exactly is it about me that you don’t like, Sunshine?’ he queried, as if her answer didn’t matter. Which, in the scheme of things, it didn’t.

Her lips pursed at the mocking moniker, but he didn’t care.

‘We really need to go down.’

Tino crossed his arms. ‘I’m waiting.’

‘Look, I didn’t mean to offend you. But I’m hardly your type either.’

‘You’re female, aren’t you?’ He couldn’t help the comment. The desire to get under her skin was riding him.

‘That’s all it takes?’

Her incredulous tone drew a tight smile to his lips. ‘What else is there?’

She shook her head. ‘See, that’s why you’re not my type. I like someone a little more discerning, a little more...’ She stopped as if she’d realised she was about to insult him.

‘Don’t stop now. It’s just getting interesting.’

‘Okay—fine. You’re arrogant, condescending, and you treat everything like it’s a joke.’

Tino deliberately kept his chuckle light. ‘For a minute there I thought you were going to list my faults.’

She threw up her hands and stalked away from him. ‘You’re impossible to talk to!’

‘True, but I make up for it where it counts.’

Her sexy mouth flattened and he just managed not to laugh. ‘Sunshine, you are so easy to rile.’

She huffed out a breath and eyed him with utter disdain. ‘Please remember that we are playing by my rules this weekend, not yours. When we’re in company just...’ She smoothed her brows. ‘Just follow my lead.’

She pinned a frozen smile on her face and sailed through the door, leaving a faint trace of summertime in her wake.

Tino breathed deep. He didn’t understand how a woman so intent on behaving like a man could smell so sweet. Then he wondered if she had sex like a man as well: enjoyed herself and moved on easily.

The unexpected thought made him snort as he followed her down the hall.

He might not know the answer to that, but he was damn sure they were bound to have another argument when she learned he played by no one else’s rules but his own.

And as for following her lead...

CHAPTER FOUR

‘SO, HOW did you two meet?’

Miller swallowed the piece of succulent fish she’d been chewing for five minutes on a rush and felt it stick in her throat. It was the question of the night, it seemed, as TJ’s guests tried to work out how an uptight management consultant could possibly ensnare the infamous Tino Ventura.

She grabbed her water glass and stiffened as she felt Valentino’s strong fingers grip the back of her chair. He’d done that constantly throughout the meal, sometimes playing with the beads on her top, and she’d felt the heat of his touch sear through her clothing and all the way into her bones. The man was like a furnace.

Fortunately he took control of the conversation, having already warned her to say very little, but she could see he was as tired of the interest as she was.

Tuning out, she wondered if she shouldn’t stage a massive fight right here and end the charade before they slipped up. Or before she slipped up—because he seemed to be doing just fine. And maybe she would feel better if Dexter didn’t keep throwing her curious glances that told her in more than words that he didn’t buy the whole international-racing-driver-boyfriend thing one bit.

When they had arrived for dinner the men had immediately enclosed Valentino in a circle as if he were an old friend, and the women had raked their eyes appreciatively over his muscular frame. Most of them had looked at him as if they wouldn’t say no to being another notch on his well-scarred bedpost. Something that didn’t interest Miller in the slightest.