The Price of Fame. Anne Oliver

going for a run.’

      Without looking at her, he yanked a pair of shorts, a T-shirt and running shoes out of his backpack and went to the bathroom to change. He needed to release some of his own tension and a dose of cold Melbourne air would cool his blood. The colder the better.

      He splashed water on his face and checked himself out in the mirror. A smear of her lip gloss glistened on his lips. He smiled at his reflection as he rubbed it away. Now he knew. Ms Neat and Conservative on the outside wasn’t so conservative on the inside. Perhaps they could—

      He shook the images away, ran his fingers through his hair and glared at himself. He’d offered her refuge. And that changed the rules. It was entirely her call if she wanted to take it further. Still … He shook his head and turned away from the mirror. Absolutely not.

      He considered taking a cold shower but decided against it. Getting naked and knowing she was probably spread out on that bed watching TV wasn’t going to do him any favours.

      When he returned from the bathroom, she was standing right where he’d left her. The big screen was still blank, the room was still silent. But the atmosphere had changed. Her fragrance and the scent of her skin smelled sharper, warmer. Damper. She must have turned up the thermostat on the air conditioning because it felt a damn sight hotter in here than it had moments ago.

      Her eyes skimmed down his body and he felt as though a thousand fiery pinpricks had blistered every square centimetre of skin.

      Then she snatched up the TV remote. Put it down. Drew in a sharp breath as if she’d come to a decision and was wondering whether to let him in on it.

      ‘Everything all right?’

      ‘Look, I don’t want to kick you out of your room. Please. Stay. I’m fine with it.’ Her gaze shifted to the double bed, then snapped back to him and he swore the air around them crackled. ‘In fact, I’d feel a lot better if you stayed.’

      Yeah? He smiled—so would he. ‘Okay …’ That glint in her eyes … Hot. Wary too, but definitely hot. His whole body tightened, stiffened, and a bead of sweat trickled down his back. In a deliberately casual move, he laid his discarded clothes on the back of the office chair at the desk. ‘So what’s your real name? Or aren’t we going to get into all that?’

      ‘I told you, it’s Charlotte.’ She slid her palms down her skirt as if they were sticky. ‘But no surnames, no talking about ourselves and swapping life histories. We’ll be gone tomorrow.’

      His thoughts precisely. So … she wanted to play … Nothing personal, nothing complicated. One night. This had to be his lucky day. The surprise of it, and of her, was like a mid-winter’s heatwave. ‘Fine by me.’

      ‘I’m going to take a shower now,’ she said, suddenly and randomly, as if plucking the words from the increasingly sultry atmosphere. ‘Alone.’ She moved to her bag, unzipped it, then tossed him an I-mean-it look over her shoulder. ‘I’ll see you shortly.’

      ‘Right.’ So she wanted time to get ready; he didn’t mind waiting. ‘I’m off for that run, then. When I get back …’ at the door, he looked her over the way she’d looked at him—though he might have lingered a tad longer ‘… we’ll see how we get along.’

      He took the stairs down to the lobby two at a time. He saw Kerry amidst the carnage, sticking a sign on the door advising alternative accommodation, and stopped.

      ‘Is your friend okay?’ she said, giving him a quick glance as she smoothed the sign in place.

      ‘She is.’

      She shook her head on her way back to the desk. ‘And by that glazed look, I’m guessing the drinks invite’s off the board now. How do you do it, Nic? You’re like honey to a bee.’

      ‘My magnetic personality, babe. And it was a mutual decision to share the room, under the circumstances.’

      ‘Of course it was,’ she said, amused. ‘You’re obviously her hero. I’d hate you on behalf of all women if I didn’t know you better.’ She waved him off. ‘Now go away. I’m too busy and too married to be sidetracked by a charmer like you.’

      He grinned—charm had nothing to do with it. Fate had played right into his hands. Man, he had to love volcanoes. Even lousy reporters.

      ‘And if you’re not careful, Nic,’ she was going on as she resumed her seat in front of her computer, ‘one of these days you’re going to find yourself charmed right back and life as you know it now will be a distant memory.’

      He gave her a wave as he moved off. ‘Not gonna happen.’

      Kerry didn’t look up from her screen. ‘Uh-huh.’

      He took the elevator, jogged across the sky bridge and onto grass, dodging passengers, following the arrivals road and outdoor car-parking, his mind reliving their up-close and the way Charlotte had responded. As if she couldn’t get enough. He grinned to himself as he waited at the kerb for an airport bus, then crossed a median strip and headed for a line of bushes. Who’d have thought? Charlotte whoever-she-was was one hot babe.

      And she was waiting in his room. Their room.

      So what the hell was he waiting for? Why was he out running in this cold blustery wind when he could be getting better acquainted on that big wide bed with a woman who, if he was reading her right, wanted the same thing?

      Because he’d already decided to run before she’d given him the hot look. Then chosen to take a damn shower—alone. She’d made it abundantly clear. She’d needed time. Fair enough. And now he thought about it, he wanted to give her that time to mull it over and be sure. Because he was sure he didn’t want her backing out once they got started. In fact, he was so ready to get started, his body so tightly wound and hot, it was a wonder he could move at all.

      In his experience conservative types in silk suits and pearls weren’t compatible with one-night stands. But dress sense aside, she’d not played the distressed damsel card. The guy had been seriously hassling her but she’d held her own—like the strong heroines he portrayed in his computer games. He liked that about her. She wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself even though he’d seen the flicker of panic in her eyes. So if she changed her mind, he reckoned she’d let him know.

      Testosterone surged through him, tightening his muscles, pumping through his blood, and all he could think about was getting her naked and exploring the abundantly curved body he’d held against him. With his eyes, with his hands. With his mouth. Hell—he hoped she wasn’t the type to change her mind.

      He checked his watch. Time enough to have finished that shower. And if not … well, he’d just have to finish it with her. He turned back towards the hotel, making a detour via the terminal’s food court on the way.

      Since she’d already told the guy, and she’d needed the time to breathe, Charlotte took the shower. With no change of clothes available, and not wanting to crease her suit any more than it already was, she put the terry bathrobe provided by the hotel on over her underwear.

      She swiped the mirror and stared at her reflection. Her mouth looked plumper, fuller. Her eyes looked bigger. More slumberous. Bedroom eyes. Oh, God. She rubbed a hand over her heart, which still hadn’t settled into its usual rhythm. She’d never had a one-night stand before. Never been with another man before; Flynn had been a part of her life since her mid-teens.

      Part of her life? Huh. She picked up her brush, dragged it through her hair with hard, swift strokes. Their relationship had been over less than two weeks when she’d seen him and the glamorous daughter of a wealthy businessman in the newspaper’s social pages.

      So she was getting on with her new life, starting today. She’d never met a guy’s gaze—so full on and meaningful—the way she had Nic’s just now. And he was coming back to see how they got along.

      And with that look in his eyes it could mean only one thing: sex. Hot and fast and uncomplicated.