Socialite's Gamble(37)

Well, he’d expected her to be lying on the beach entertaining some randy surfer, that was why.

He shook his head. He had to get a grip. For some reason Cara reminded him of his mother. Or rather, she reminded him of how it felt when his mother had left. Hollow and … sad. Emotions that were debilitating and destructive. Emotions he never wanted to experience again after seeing how badly they had affected his father.

Looking down at her he wondered what it was about her that made him remember all that. Wondered what it was about her that made him want to reach out and run his hand down the smooth skin of her cheek. Made him want to ignore all logic and just sink into her welcoming body until he couldn’t think of anything at all.

‘Aidan?’

Her soft query brought his eyes back to her lustrous grey ones. He frowned and she glanced away from him.

Grey?

‘Look at me?’

She did, but he might as well have been a headmaster holding out a metre-long cane.

Wanting to shake off the heavy vibe, Aidan sucked in a deep breath and realised she was right about him wanting to think the worst of her. The chemistry between them was so red-hot he needed every excuse he could come up with to keep from acting on it.

Remembering her comment from the day before about channelling some movie star, he instinctively knew that her eye colour wasn’t natural. ‘Who are you channelling today?’

‘Aishwarya Rai.’

‘Who?’

‘A really talented Indian actress with the most incredible eyes.’

Aidan shook his head. ‘What’s wrong with just being yourself, Cara?’

She sifted a layer of silky white sand between red-painted toenails. ‘Oh, you don’t want me to do that. I’m boring.’

Yeah, about as boring as a Cirque du Soleil show. But he could see she believed it and he wanted to press her up against the trunk of the palm tree and show her just how boring she wasn’t.

As if somehow reading his mind, she made to move past him but her movements were jerky and uncoordinated and she stumbled. Aidan reached for her, his hands sliding around her torso, his thumbs pressing into the slight swell of her small breasts.

Lust, hot and powerful, punched him in the gut and he revelled in the feel of her lithe frame between his large hands. He was almost a head taller than her and she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. The movement exposed the long line of her throat and the deep V of her cleavage where the tight sarong pulled her breasts together.

Her hands gripped his biceps and the pulse point in the base of her throat beat at a rapid pace that matched his own.

Her heat enveloped him, her scent consumed him, and Aidan wanted to kiss her so badly in that moment he didn’t even realise that one hand had moved to the back of her head until the ferry that visited the island twice a day let out three sharp whistles.

It was enough to break whatever spell he was under and Aidan pulled back, shocked at how close he’d come to giving in to the impulse to kiss her.

This was crazy.

Already he was thinking about her too much and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like anything he couldn’t categorise and she was defying every box he tried to fit her into. Until he worked her out, until … Hell.

Until nothing.

He stepped back. Ran his hand through his hair. Righted his breathing. ‘How long will it take you to change for lunch?’

Surprise registered on her face. ‘You still want me to come to lunch?’

Telling himself that he was completely in control, Aidan checked his watch. ‘Have you eaten?’

‘No, but—’

‘Then how long?’





CHAPTER TEN


‘WHY PINK?’ KATE, the woman Cara had struck up an instant rapport with over lunch, leaned across the outdoor dining table with a huge smile on her face and drew her attention away from the view of the azure-blue water and the picture-perfect islands in the distance. The sense of space gave the outdoor restaurant a calm ambience despite how busy it was. Cara had just been thinking about how she felt about the call she had received from her agent on the walk to the restaurant. It seemed that it wasn’t only Christos who was impressed by her newfound relationship with the esteemed Aidan Kelly; the Demarche deal was back on the table. Or a variation of the deal.

‘Basically,’ Harriet had said, ‘it’s between you and America’s latest sweetheart. You both turn up at the gala dinner next Sunday night, strut your stuff, and they’ll make a decision on the night.’

Sort of like a test, Cara thought, knowing that they were probably hedging their bets with her in case something else went wrong between now and then.

Cara’s first thought was that she was insulted by the idea of parading around a room full of people while corporate executives sat back and rated her. But then she reminded herself that modelling was competitive and if she wanted the deal, then she’d have to forsake her pride and just do it. And what could go wrong between now and then? She was on a tropical island with a respected businessman. A respected businessman she felt drawn to like a moth to a flame.