Aussie Rules (8 page)

He looked exasperated. “Why didn't you tell them why I'm really here? Waiting to talk to Sally?”

Wasn't that just the question of the day? “Because…” Because it would hurt them to know she'd let them believe they were secure when they weren't. Because she'd have to watch them wonder whether Sally had really done the things Bo said she'd done. “Because…”

“Because you're a liar,” he said softly, and took a step toward her. “Because you've been lying to them for a long time, haven't you?”

Another step, and she felt the hard wood of the desk at her hips, and the harder body of Bo Black at her front. The cool steel of the letter opener remained a comforting weight in her palm.

“Because you know if you admit it,” he said, “they'll stop thinking the sun rises and falls on your shoulders.”

No. She shook her head in denial of that. Having them admire and look up to her was absolutely not why she ran this place for Sally.

She did it because the place was home, the only real home she'd ever had.

Well, okay, on second thought, damn it, yes, and because they looked up to her and admired her. It gave her a sense of worth. Was that really such a crime? Could he really not understand at all?

Of course he couldn't. He was confident to the point of complete obnoxiousness. He didn't care what people thought of him, it would never even occur to him to wonder. He'd probably never doubted himself, not once.

“What's going on in here, Mel?” he asked, gently tapping her temple. “You've left me. To think about what else you're hiding?”

Hard to think, much less talk, with his body so close to hers, and she resented that he probably knew it. “You didn't by any chance e-mail me the other day, did you?”

His eyes narrowed. “No. Why?”

“Just…wondering.”

“You get a strange e-mail?”

No, just a threatening one
.

His gaze dropped to her mouth. His eyes darkened. “Stubborn to a beautiful fault. That's okay, I'll figure it out.” Caging her in by putting a hand on either side of her hips, he shifted closer still, forcing her to tip her head back to keep looking into his eyes. “You could just tell me and save us both a lot of time and frustration.”

She tightened her mouth, making him laugh. “No worries, mate. So…back to ex-lovers?”

She licked her lips nervously. “It's not so unreasonable a story. It's obvious we're on edge around each other. We…had a falling out. It was for the best, with you being an ass and all.”

He ran the pad of his finger over the base of her throat, and something warm and delicious and utterly dangerous slid into her belly. “If I'm so off-putting,” he murmured, “you're going to want to work on this, then.”

“On what?”

Again a swipe of his thumb over her wild pulse. “On how bad you want me.”

She slapped his hand away but in a lightning-quick move, he snagged her wrist, and then her other, the one that held the letter opener. He eyed the steel point with curious amusement, then squeezed until it clattered from her fingers to the floor. “You might want to work on that, too. That temper you clearly have smoldering for me.” He tsked. “Dead giveaway on that wanting-me-bad thing.”

“You are delusional.”

“Why?” His gaze met hers. “Are you taken?”

“Taken?”

“Committed.”

“No. Not committed.” Not that she had anything against the idea in theory, but though she'd had lovers here and there over the years, she'd always discovered some fatal flaw and broken things off before anything too serious began. Char called the phenomenon the Anderson Chronicles. Dimi called it pathetic.

Closing the gap between them, Bo pressed his body to hers. Her nipples had gone hard at the beginning of this little discussion, and now they bore into his chest. Could he feel them? She thought maybe by the look on his face that he could.

“So you don't want me,” he said a little hoarsely. “Not even a little.”

She had to clear her throat to talk. “Not even a little.”

“Prove it,” he whispered, lowering his head so that their mouths were only a fraction apart.

“I don't have to prove anything—”

He clucked like a chicken.

“This is so juvenile.” Her hands came up between them, her palms open on his chest. To push him away, she told herself, only she didn't push so much as hold on like he was her lifesaver and she was going down. “I am not going to kiss you just to prove I don't want you—”

“Shut up and do it, darlin'.”

“You know what?
Fine
.” Grabbing his ears, she yanked his face closer and laid one on him. Only the joke was on her because the moment she felt his warm, delicious mouth touch hers she forgot that this was supposed to be about making her point and instead got sucked into the hot wave of lust that washed over her, drowning out all good sense.

His good sense, too, apparently, because she got much more than she bargained for. He met her halfway, kissing her hungrily, possessively, then deeper still, pushing her back against the desk, his thigh pressing up between hers, his hands—God, his hands.

She might have let him do whatever he wanted, possibly even have stripped her naked and begged him to touch bare flesh this time, because she was lost in the sensations, one hundred percent lost.

But then the radio crackled, and Charlene's voice filled the air. “Mel? Bo's got an incoming. He still in there?”

Her heart pounding, pounding, pounding, nipples hard, thighs quivery, damp between them, Mel stared up at Bo.

He was breathing just as heavily as she was. “It's, uh, about a vintage Stearman PT-13D I'm thinking of buying.”

Mel nodded, cleared her throat again, then lifted the radio to her mouth. “Thanks, Char, I'll tell him.”

Bo, having apparently proved his point, gave Mel one last long look filled with heat and some other stuff that made breathing difficult, then simply walked out.

She let out a long breath.
Well
. If that wasn't the cruelest thing he'd done so far, making her like him, making her want him. With a shaking hand, she stroked the hair from her face. One of them wasn't going to survive this, and at the moment, body humming, buzzing,
aching
, she wasn't sure who'd be left standing in the end. She sagged back against the desk, thankful for its durability, because, wow.

Just wow.

Seemed she wanted more than for Bo to simply go far, far away. She wanted him to do her first. Which solved it, really. She wasn't lost, she'd merely left reality and had driven right into insanity.

D
imi woke up on a plane. Now if it had been in the air, she'd have freaked and needed serious aromatherapy, but all was still and quiet, and she relaxed.

It wasn't the first time she'd woken confused…There'd been many nights hanging out with the guys until late, drinking with them, getting a little too toasted to drive home. She'd always just made herself comfortable in one of the planes they stored for people who had too much money.

But as she sat up and put a hand to her reeling head, she realized this wasn't just any plane but a Lear Jet, luxurious and plush and gorgeous.

Oh, and bigger surprise, she wasn't alone.

A muscled forearm was wrapped around her waist. Then a pair of lips pressed to her shoulder as a husky, sleepy male voice whispered, “Morning, Sexy.”

Before she could get her wits together, she was turned over into his arms. With a sexy smile, he slid a thigh between hers, bent his head, and sucked her bare breast into his mouth.

Right. She remembered now. Gorgeous Guy from Sunshine Café. Brother of the owner of the plane she was currently butt-ass naked in. He'd ditched his buddies and his brother on their night on the town to be with her, and she'd made it worth his while.

And he'd made it worth hers, taking her mind off the fact that Bo Black held the key to her livelihood. A brutal reality that thrust her back into insecure, desperate, fearful mode, a feeling she hated and resented with all her heart.

Gorgeous Guy nibbled his way to her other breast, rocking an impressive morning erection between her legs as she tried for a graceful escape. “So.” She cleared her throat. “Anyone here remember last night?”

He lifted his head. “You don't?”

She shrugged. “Well, we did get fairly toasted—” There'd been plenty of alcohol in the wet bar right behind them. “Everything's a bit of a blur.”

His smile faded. So did Mr. Impressive between her legs. “You don't remember any of it?”

Ah, hell. A sensitive one. Furtively, she tried to get a look at his watch without further insulting him but his jaw went tight. “It's five forty-five,” he said gruffly.

Oh, shit
. She wriggled, trying to get free. “Move, Sugar, I've got to get up.”

He pulled back, still looking shocked.

Galvanized into action, she hopped off the buttery soft leather double recliner and winced at the hangover rattling her head. Ignoring the opulent interior all around her, she began searching for her clothes. She found her panties dangling off a window shade and pulled them on, getting a flash-back of the man behind her yanking them off her last night, inadvertently scratching her tender inner thigh in his hurry. “The crew signs on in fifteen minutes,” she said. “They're probably already gathered in the café, listening to AC/DC and mooching off Charlene. You've got to be gone.”

“We're not taking off until ten.” He reached for her, slipping his fingers between her legs. “Let's have breakfast.”

“I can't!” She batted him away. “I have to work.”

“Come on,” he cajoled, pulling her back against him. “We clicked so well last night, let's continue the fun.”

How much clicking could there have been if all she remembered was him scratching her? “Sorry. Breakfast isn't my style.” Her bra was in his loafer. She shimmied into that and began the hunt for her skirt and top—there, on the back of the pilot's seat. “Where do you usually go when you tie down here for the night?”

“A hotel, but—”

“Good. Great. Take the rental car I arranged for you yesterday and come back in a few hours.”

He came up behind her, again tried to hold her. “I had fun,” he whispered, nuzzling her jaw.

The sun had come up, and for all Dimi's worldliness, she never had sex in the light of day.
Never
.

“We have a connection,” he said.

Uh-huh. A connection. He couldn't be more than twenty-four, and she knew men. At that age, the biggest connection they had was to their own penis. Mostly, she figured, he just wanted to get lucky again. “Get dressed.”

He pulled on his pants, his shirt, and began hunting for his shoes. “How about next weekend? Are you—”

“No.” She softened her voice. “I'm sorry, no.” She put her hands on his shoulders and tried to turn him toward the door to shove him out, because damn it, if Mel caught her with one of the clients, she was going to skin her alive. “Go,” she said.

“This first.” He leaned in to kiss her but she shifted, giving him her cheek instead.

“Hey, I want a kiss.”

“Well, I don't.” She never kissed her lovers. Like getting naked in the light of day, it seemed too intimate, too real. Putting her hand to her head, which was threatening to leap off her shoulders, she tried to smile. “Look, I'll call you, okay?” Standard line, of course, used only to avoid a scene.

He saw right through her, and went from pout to something else, something darker and much closer to anger. “You don't have my number.”

From the radio in her skirt pocket she heard Kellan say something.
Shit
. Indeed, the crew had arrived, probably all in the lobby snacking on donuts, hangover free. Damn it.

Danny would look at her with that combination of disappointment and regret, like it was
her
fault she sometimes tended to use sex as her Prozac, and Dimi would feel like crap. “I've got to run—”

But Gorgeous Guy grabbed her arm and held on with a shocking strength. Just last night that strength had been incredibly arousing. Now, not so much. “Let go of me,” she said very carefully.

“You can't just run out on me.”

She went from guilty to mad without passing
GO
. “Look, I can do anything I want.”

“So that's it?” he asked, eyes narrowed, definitely annoyed. “You got off and now you're done with me?”

She looked down at the hand still wrapped around her arm, at his fingers digging into her skin, and felt a frisson of unease. “Let go of me.
Now
.” To ensure he did, she shoved him back and then hopped down from the plane, racing out of the hangar.

Asshole. Why did men have to be assholes who ruined everything?

The bright morning sun nearly blinding her, the cool air burning her lungs, she turned toward the lobby. With any luck, she wouldn't see a soul, and indeed luck appeared to be on her side as she entered the side lobby door and found the room empty.

Even the café was quiet, which meant that everyone had dispersed and gone off to begin their day. Whew. Bypassing her desk, she headed straight for the restroom to freshen up, thinking
ha
! she'd made it, she was in the clear—

“
Dimi!
”

Previously Gorgeous Guy. Yelling for her, damn it. With a wince, she turned back, and from across the expanse of the lobby, saw him heading right for her. Gone was any trace of the soft, sexy smile he'd exhibited last night, and in its place was a determination to have a scene.

Yep, she was still a jerk magnet. Good to know. She debated about just dodging into the bathroom and letting him pound on the door, but before she could, he was right there in front of her. Okay, no problem. She'd just knee him in the nads if it came to it, then drag him back to his plane and leave him there for his friends to find—

“Don't walk away from me.” His brows were furrowed together, assuring her that she wasn't the only one feeling the effects of a pounding hangover. “Don't ever walk away from me.”

Was he kidding? She opened her mouth to blast him, but someone stepped in front of her.

Danny; tall, rangy, and lanky, with his blond surfer-dude hair sticking out of his baseball cap, falling to his shoulders. Not handsome, not even take-another-look cute, but he had a pair of clear blue eyes that could cut right through a soul, which she hoped they were doing right now to Previously Gorgeous Guy. Danny held a wrench in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other, which he casually lifted to his lips to blow away the steam before taking a sip. “Problem?”

“Do you mind?” Previously Gorgeous Guy gestured to Dimi. “I'm trying to have a conversation here.”

Not budging—in fact still blocking the view of Dimi entirely—Danny bent his head and took another sip of his coffee. “Oh, yeah,” he sighed. “Charlene can make a cup of coffee. Want one?”

“No,” Previously Gorgeous Guy said through his teeth. “I don't. I want to talk to
her
.” He pointed to Dimi with one jerky motion.

Danny nodded, then slowly shook his head. “Unfortunately for you, she doesn't seem to be that interested in having a conversation.” Without taking his eyes off him, Danny cocked his head. “Dimi?”

“No,” she said to Danny's back. “I'm not interested in having a conversation.”

Danny nodded and spoke in the same easy voice, though she could hear unbendable steel beneath it. “You okay?”

“Fantastic.” She'd never stood behind Danny before. He was bigger than she'd thought, sturdier. He had himself a set of broad shoulders, and buns of steel, too. All that surfing, she supposed—

“Dimi.”

Lifting her gaze, she realized Danny had craned his neck to look at her. “Give us a moment?”

He was telling her to go into the restroom, that he'd take care of the issue, meaning he'd escort the guy out of the lobby and either back to his plane or off the premises. “Right,” she said, and gratefully made her escape.

Inside the bathroom, she caught a look at herself in the mirror, and stared. Her hair had gone on a party without her permission, she wore no makeup, both an absolute crime in her book. She was pale enough to scare herself, but worse, her skirt and top were wrinkled. She also had four paw-print bruises on her arm where the guy had grabbed her, not to mention a scratch on her inner thigh.

She definitely looked a little rough around the edges, like she'd been ridden hard and put away wet, like she didn't care about herself and where she'd been.

And as that sank in, her eyes filled.
Idiot
. What she'd done last night had been stupid and careless and dangerous. And it could have had an extremely unpleasant ending.

Yet she'd known all that and had done it anyway.

The restroom door opened and she turned her head, expecting Danny, expecting to have to put a smile on her face and pretend all was well, that she was “fantastic” as always, knowing she needed to thank him.

But it wasn't Danny at all. Mel stormed in, and Dimi prepared for a lecture, to be berated about her bad choices, to feel an inch tall.

But Mel didn't even glance at Dimi. She went straight to a sink, cranked on the cold water and bent. Dimi watched in surprise as Mel closed her eyes and slapped water on her cheeks. “Mel? What's the matter?”

She didn't answer for so long that Dimi thought maybe she wouldn't. Finally, she straightened, water dripping off her nose. “Men suck.”

Dimi laughed. “Well, I agree with you there.”

Mel stared at herself in the mirror, then at Dimi. And it was a huge testament to how upset she must be that she didn't mention Dimi was still wearing yesterday's clothing and looked like shit. “It's possible I'm going to kill him.”

Dimi blinked. “Who?”

“Bo Black. Who else?”

Dimi pushed Previously Gorgeous Guy far out of her head and went from pissed to panic. Again. “What did he do now?”

“You mean besides being born?” Mel closed her eyes. “He kissed me.”

This was so far from what Dimi had expected, it took her a moment to process. Mel hadn't kicked Bo Black's most excellent ass out, but she'd kissed him. “Okay, you win the bad-morning award.”

“Gee, thanks.” But Mel didn't look like it'd been bad at all, and Dimi took a closer look. “You really let him kiss you?”

“It wasn't a planned thing, believe me. It started out this stupid dare—”

“
What?
He got you on a dare? Jesus, Mel, the guy wants to take over our world and you let him goad you into—”

“Did I start out this story with ‘hey, a great thing happened to me this morning'?” Sounding extremely grumpy, Mel reached for a few paper towels to dry her face. “And anyway, he's busy now, looking at some Stearman.”

“He's got the money for that?”

Mel shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“So…” Dimi had to ask. “Are the old rumors true? Can he make a woman orgasm with a single touch?”

Instead of laughing, as Dimi had expected, Mel turned away. “It was just a kiss.”

Which didn't answer the question, Dimi noted. More panic. It jangled inside her belly. “You going to turn into
me
now, Mel, and fall for the wrong guy?”