“Holy shit, Rowan!” A male voice called out, and a distant part of Aslin’s mind recognised it as Chris Huntley’s. “What have you done to Nick Blackthorne’s bodyguard?”
The woman straddling Aslin didn’t move a muscle. Aslin could tell. Every muscle in his body was tuned into hers.
“What’s Nick Blackthorne’s bodyguard doing here?” the woman—Rowan—asked without lifting her pinning stare from Aslin’s face. “And why did he try to grab me?”
From the corner of Aslin’s eye, he saw feet come to a stop on the concrete beside his head, but he didn’t tear his focus from the woman atop him. His nerve-endings sparked and fired. He’d been put on his back by a woman? How the hell had he been put on his back by a woman? Who the hell was she?
“I don’t know why he tried to grab you.” Chris laughed. “Did you piss him off?”
Blue eyes flickered, holding Aslin motionless. And then the woman was standing, in a move so fluid and quick he couldn’t stop the slither of appreciation threading through his disbelief.
“Funny, Huntley,” she said, stepping over him like he no longer mattered. “Now shut up and say hello to me. It’s been too long since we saw each other.”
From his place on the ground, Aslin watched her reach out and wrap her smooth, firmly toned arms around the actor, giving him a hug that was relaxed and warm. She kissed Chris’s cheek, a grin playing with the corners of her lips. Lips, Aslin couldn’t help but notice, that were full and naturally pink.
“Ugh,” Chris laughed, stepping out of the woman’s hug. “Girl germs.”
The woman swiped at his jaw in a friendly punch, a shallow dimple creasing the smooth flesh of her cheek. “Shut up, you idiot.”
Chris laughed again, dropped a kiss on that very dimple, and then turned to Aslin. Aslin who was still lying shocked on the ground.
Aslin who’d just had his arse handed to him by a woman no taller than his chin.
“Aslin Rhodes,” Chris said, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Allow me to introduce my sister, Rowan Hemsworth.”
Chapter Two
The situation, in Rowan’s opinion, wasn’t acceptable. For starters, the last thing she wanted was her brother forming a relationship with the bodyguard of the famous wild boy of rock. She’d worked too hard to keep Chris grounded for him to suddenly be exposed to the lifestyle and stories Aslin Rhodes would no doubt regale him with. The life of a successful actor was already fraught with temptation for Chris. Rowan didn’t want the potential decadence of celebrity leeching into his ear via the stories told by a walking, talking mountain of muscle.
She watched Chris hand the silent bodyguard an icepack. Her brother was already enamored with the Brit. It was obvious in the easy smile on his face. This was not how she’d hoped the shoot in Australia would go. Getting Chris away from all the yes-men and fawning hanger-oners in L.A. was meant to help him grasp a more real perspective on life, not skew it to hell.
And the other thing unsettling her? The one she was trying to ignore?
Rowan slid a quick sideward glance at Aslin Rhodes. Her stomach clenched. The Brit was unsettling. His towering height, his impressive strength, his speed, the way his body moved when fighting her, like oiled smoke and liquid steel. It had only been a short kerfuffle between them, but it was enough to tell Rowan she may not be the victor if it happened again. The element of surprise had been her greatest advantage this time, but that element was gone. If she had to face off against Aslin again, she didn’t know if she’d win. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was very unsettling. Because the very real possibility of being bested by the Brit not only made her angry, it made her…
Horny.
Damn it, on a level she didn’t want to acknowledge let alone analyse, the man currently holding an icepack to his groin turned her on.
Rowan bit back a curse. She hadn’t flown halfway around the world to be turned on by an Englishman, no matter how killer his biceps and moves. She’d flown to Sydney to look after her kid brother. Aslin Rhodes could just fuck—
Me?
“And then Ricco stormed off…sis? Are you listening to me?”
Rowan jerked her stare back to Chris, dismayed by the fact both he and the Brit had caught her unfocussed.
She pulled an exasperated face at her brother. “Of course I’m listening. What I’m wondering is, now Mr. Rhodes has apparently pissed off the stunt director to the point where Ricco has gone AWOL, who is going to co-ordinate and choreograph all the fight and stunt scenes?” She folded her arms across her breasts—breasts that for some stupid reason felt much fuller and rounder when Aslin’s gaze moved to her. “After all, I’m not allowed to do it, am I?”