Living the Charade(20)

Miller frowned. 'If you're referring to TJ and Janelle...?' She rolled her eyes. 'I was hardly required.'

'When it comes to relationships you have no idea what's required.'

His words stung because they were true. Relationships scared her. But  she was too tired to argue any more, so she shut up and let him guide  her around the floor, focusing all her attention on the music and not on  the way it felt to be held within the tight circle of his powerful  arms. She reminded herself that she was a professional woman with goals  and dreams that did not include this man in any shape or form. Reminded  herself that her orgasm on the beach was a one-off and not to be  repeated.

'What are you thinking?' His deep voice made her stumble and his hold tightened momentarily.

Miller's eyes met his. She was thinking that despite everything she  knew about herself, about life, she still wanted to have sex with him  with a bone-deep need that defied explanation.

'Miller?'

His husky command made her peek up at him from under her fringe. This  wasn't her. She didn't peek. She looked. She organised. She...she was  melting as her eyes drifted over his handsome face and her body brushed  his.

Her heart beat much faster than it needed to and she wondered what type  of man he really was. Why he lived the life he did. Why he had chosen  to work in a profession that had taken his father's life-something she  was sure affected him more deeply than he let on.

'How do you do what you do?' she asked, latching onto her curiosity  about his racing life to distract herself from the fact that she  seriously wanted to throw caution to the winds and have sex with him.  Just once. To see what it would be like to do it with a man who just had  to touch her to make her burn hotter than the sun.

* * *

Tino's hand tightened around Miller's as they continued to sway to the  music. He had no idea what she was on about. His one-track mind was  heavily mired in defending himself against the onslaught of her slender  curves, her light, mouth-watering scent.                       
       
           



       

After their talk in the park earlier, when he'd felt a strong desire to  comfort her and slay all her demons, his self-preservation instincts  had kicked in and warned him that this time he really needed to keep his  distance.

Of course dancing with her wasn't exactly conducive to that plan, but  seeing Caruthers pawing her earlier had made him see red, and he knew he  couldn't just drag her off to a secluded location feeling the way he  did. Dancing with her was the safer of the two options.

'You're going to have to be a bit more specific than that,' he said,  telling himself to ignore the way she seemed to fit so perfectly in his  arms.

He was still a little shocked by the way he had nearly put his fist  through Dexter's arrogant face. He had forgotten that this thing with  Miller was fake. Of course that had more to do with male pride than the  delicate, sensual woman in his arms right now.

Yeah, and pigs might fly. You want her and there's no shame in admitting it. Just don't do anything about it.

Just when he was about to end the exquisite torture of dancing with her, she answered his question.

'Race? Don't you ever get scared?'

Ah, she'd been asking him about his job.

Okay, that he could talk about on a superficial level. 'Motor racing is  all about pushing yourself to the limit. There's no room for fear.'

Her body swayed against his in time to an eighties love song; the room  too warm with the crush of similarly entwined bodies dancing together.

'But you push yourself beyond the limit, don't you? Isn't that why they  call you an arrogant adrenalin junkie and a shock-jock? Maverick?'

'Don't believe everything you read about me, Miller. I'm happiest  living on the edge, it's true. But I don't take stupid chances with my  own life or anyone else's. Fear is an emotion. Controllable like any  other. And while I'm not crazy, sometimes...' He paused, his mind  automatically spinning back to the race that had taken the life of his  good friend and caused him to question the sport he loved so much.  'Sometimes you have to squeeze the fear a little.'

And in this game you never look back, he silently added.

'Squeeze the fear?'

She said the words as if she were savouring a new taste on her tongue,  and his body burned with a restless energy at the thought of tasting her  again. But this time not just her mouth.

'You really love it don't you?' she said, a soft smile curving her lips.

Tino's mind jerked and went blank. Then he used his formidable mental  control to switch off the erotic images turning his body hard. 'I get to  experience life in its most heightened and intense form. Nothing else  has ever come close.'

And probably right now he was too close to her-both mentally and  physically. He couldn't remember ever having revealed so much about why  he raced, and as for talking about his reasons for steering clear of  relationships...

He frowned down at her. 'You're not going to repeat what I just said, are you?'

'You mean to a journalist?' Her tone was light, almost teasing.

'Yes.' His wasn't.

'Are your illustrious words worth very much?'

He scowled and she smiled.

'Relax.'

That captivating smile grew and he knew she was thinking of all the times he had told her to do the same thing.

'I don't need the money.'

Tino was jostled from behind by an exuberant dancer and his whole body  came up flush against Miller's. Foreign emotions he couldn't name and a  healthy dose of testosterone heightened as the arousal he'd been holding  at bay flared instantly to life.

So much for that formidable mental control, Ventura.

He stopped dancing. 'I think it's time to call it a night.'

He noticed her face was flushed, and his arms tightened around her like a steel cage.

She stood still, looking up at him. 'I had no idea your job was so fascinating.'

His eyes became hooded and he saw his own desperate need reflected back  at him from her over-bright eyes. Her lips parted softly in silent  invitation and he had to fight the instinct to crush her mouth beneath  his.

He studied her slender hands curled around his shoulders, her fingers  elegant, the nails unvarnished. They suited her serious nature and  reminded him that 'serious' females were best avoided at all costs.

'Valentino, are you okay?'

Her hands slid from his shoulders to rest lightly against his chest and he felt scalded.

Deliberately slowing his heart-rate, he evened out his breathing and  stepped back from her. Every minute he spent in her presence eroded his  self-control and he hated that. Without self-control he was nothing. He  had no choice but to sever whatever bond had sprung up between them,  because right now he sensed she was more dangerous to him than a hairpin  turn at three hundred clicks.                       
       
           



       

He saw the moment comprehension dawned that he was rejecting what she  was unconsciously offering and silently cursed as a moment of hurt  flashed across her beautiful face.

It was as if he'd betrayed her. And maybe he had. The way he'd come on  to her on the beach, then taken her for ice cream, grilled her about her  life, his behaviour with her boss...

Feeling as if he owed her a massive apology, he didn't know where to  start. Or if it would make the situation between them better or worse.

Then she took the decision out of his hands and closed down her  emotions as effectively as he had, pivoting on her sexy heels and  walking away from him.

Immediately, an image of his father slotted into his brain, but rather  than shake it off straight away, as he usually did, he let it settle  there for a moment. The image was always the same. A smiling,  larger-than-life hero in a white jumpsuit with a cerulean-blue helmet  under his arm.

Miller's eyes.

His father's helmet.

His father's death hanging over him like a sword.

In this game, you never look back.

Tino felt his old rage at his father rear up and flattened it. This  weekend was supposed to be light and easy. Relaxing. But Miller was  drawing something out of him he had no wish to face, and it was messing  with his head.

She was messing with his head.

He wasn't supposed to want her. At least not this much. And he sure as  hell wasn't supposed to want to make her world a better place.

What a crapshoot.





      CHAPTER TEN

STALKING into the breakfast room the next morning, Tino plastered what he hoped was an easy smile across his face.

Miller was there, as were TJ, Dexter and another female guest decked out in a Lycra leotard.

Tino hadn't returned to the bedroom he shared with Miller for a good  two hours after she'd walked off the dance floor the night before, and  when he had it had been to find her curled up in the middle of the huge  bed.

He'd slept on the floor.

If you could call staring at the bedroom ceiling all night sleeping.  Then he'd risen early and gone for a run, so he didn't know what mood  Miller was in. By the look of the dark shadows beneath her eyes she  hadn't slept much either.