Читать книгу From Fling to Forever - Avril Tremayne - Страница 9

ELLA HAD BEEN determined to spend a full year in Los Angeles.

But within a few weeks of touching down at LAX she’d been back at the airport and heading for Cambodia. There had been an outbreak of dengue fever, and someone had asked her to think about helping out, and she’d thought, Why not?

Because she just hadn’t been feeling it at home. Whatever ‘it’ was. She hadn’t felt right since Tina’s wedding. Sort of restless and on edge. So she figured she needed more distraction. More work. More … something.

And volunteering at a children’s hospital in mosquito heaven is just the sort of masochism that’s right up your alley, isn’t it, Ella?

So, here she was, on her least favourite day of the year—her birthday—in northwest Cambodia—and because it was her birthday she was in the bar of one of the best hotels in town instead of her usual cheap dive.

Her parents had called this morning to wish her happy birthday. Their present was an airfare to London and an order to use it the moment her time in Cambodia was up. It was framed in part as a favour to Tina: stay with her pregnant sister in her new home city and look after her health while Brand concentrated on the movie. But she knew Tina would have been given her own set of orders: get Ella to rest and for goodness’ sake fatten her up—because her mother always freaked when she saw how thin and bedraggled Ella was after a stint in the developing world.

Tina’s present to Ella was a goat. Or rather a goat in Ella’s name, to be given to an impoverished community in India. Not every just-turned-twenty-seven-year-old’s cup of tea, but so totally perfect for this one.

And in with the goat certificate had been a parcel with a note: ‘Humour me and wear this.’ ‘This’ was sinfully expensive French lingerie in gorgeous mint-green silk, which Ella could never have afforded. It felt like a crime wearing it under her flea-market gypsy skirt and bargain-basement singlet top. But it did kind of cheer her up. Maybe she’d have to develop an underwear fetish—although somehow she didn’t think she’d find this kind of stuff digging around in the discount bins the way she usually shopped.

A small group of doctors and nurses had dragged her out tonight. They’d knocked back a few drinks, told tales about their life experiences and then eventually—inevitably—drifted off, one by one, intent on getting some rest ahead of another busy day.

But Ella wasn’t due at the hospital until the afternoon, so she could sleep in. Which meant she could stay out. And she had met someone—as she always seemed to do in bars. So she’d waved the last of her friends off with a cheerful guarantee that she could look after herself.

Yes, she had met someone. Someone who might help make her feel alive for an hour or two. Keep the nightmares at bay, if she could bring herself to get past the come-on stage for once and end up in bed with him.

She felt a hand on her backside as she leaned across the pool table and took her shot. She missed the ball completely but looked back and smiled. Tom. British. Expat. An … engineer, maybe? Was he an engineer? Well, who cared? Really, who cared?

He pulled her against him, her back against his chest. Arms circled her waist. Squeezed.

She laughed as he nipped at her earlobe, even though she couldn’t quite stop a slight shudder of distaste. His breath was too hot, too … moist. He bit gently at her ear again.

Ella wasn’t sure what made her look over at the entrance to the bar at that particular moment. But pool cue in one hand, caught against Tom’s chest, with—she realised in one awful moment—one of the straps of her top hanging off her shoulder to reveal the beacon-green silk of her bra strap, she looked.

Aaron James.

He was standing still, looking immaculately clean in blue jeans and a tight white T-shirt, which suited him way more than the get-up he’d been wearing at the wedding. Very tough-guy gorgeous, with the impressive muscles and fallen-angel hair with those tousled, surfer-white streaks she remembered very well.

Actually, she was surprised she remembered so much!

He gave her one long, cool, head-to-toe inspection. One nod.

Ah, so he obviously remembered her too. She was pretty sure that was not a good thing.

Then he walked to the bar, ignoring her. Hmm. Definitely not a good thing.

Ella, who’d thought she’d given up blushing, blushed. Hastily she yanked the misbehaving strap back onto her shoulder.

With a wicked laugh, Tom the engineer nudged it back off.

‘Don’t,’ she said, automatically reaching for it again.

Tom shrugged good-humouredly. ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean anything by it.’

For good measure, Ella pulled on the long-sleeved, light cotton cardigan she’d worn between her guesthouse accommodation and the hotel. She always dressed for modesty outside Western establishments, and that meant covering up.

And there were mosquitoes to ward off in any case.

And okay, yes, the sight of Aaron James had unnerved her. She admitted it! She was wearing a cardigan because Aaron James had looked at her in that way.

She tried to appear normal as the game progressed, but every now and then she would catch Aaron’s gaze on her and she found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the game or on Tom. Whenever she laughed, or when Tom let out a whoop of triumph at a well-played shot, she would feel Aaron looking at her. Just for a moment. His eyes on her, then off. When Tom went to the bar to buy a round. When she tripped over a chair, reaching for her drink. When Tom enveloped her from behind to give her help she didn’t need with a shot.

It made her feel … dirty. Ashamed. Which was just not fair. She was single, adult, independent. So she wanted a few mindless hours of fun on her lonely birthday to take her mind off sickness and death—what was wrong with that?

But however she justified things to herself, she knew that tonight her plans had been derailed. All because of a pair of censorious silver eyes.

Censorious eyes that belonged to a friend of her sister. Very sobering, that—the last thing she needed was Aaron tattling to Tina about her.

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.