Lessons in Rule-Breaking. Christy McKellen

good with rodents. Or spiders. Or any type of insect if she was totally honest.

      It looked as if they were doing building works on the place, too, judging by the mess of rubble and steel piled haphazardly against the peeling walls of the hotel, but there didn’t seem to be anyone doing any actual work out there. Jess prayed she wasn’t going to be woken up in the early hours by workmen banging the hell out of the wall next to her head.

      A disgruntled receptionist with long, lank hair and a sweat-stained blouse checked her in and handed over her key, motioning her to walk through the rather run-down reception to a door on the ground floor, next to what appeared to be a kitchen.

      The Ritz it was not.

      Her room wasn’t in a much better state than the reception, but at least it had a decent-sized bed and its own en-suite bathroom—even if she did have to turn sideways when in it to get the door closed.

      Okay, well, it was all she needed. She was only going to put up with it for two nights. Surely it wouldn’t take longer than that to get enough info to write a decent piece on Xander?

      Kicking off her shoes, she flopped down onto the bed, ignoring the unnerving sway of the bed frame, and pulled her mobile out of her back pocket. Time to do some more research on the man himself.

      She’d already had a cursory look through the search engines for his name, but not much of any use had come up, mostly gossip pieces about the women he’d dated and the parties he’d made a scene at. In fact he seemed to have been in a constant state of drunken debauchery for an entire year. There were a handful of articles about his last couple of exhibitions as she trawled lower, though, the last of which had been a bit of a critical flop, as Pam had mentioned.

      She wondered how his colossal ego had dealt with that. Judging by the press reports on him between now and then, not very well. He’d become belligerent and withdrawn with the press and, instead of producing more work to shut his critics up, he’d thrown himself into partying and womanising instead. In fact he didn’t seem to have produced a single thing since that exhibition.

      Interesting.

      It was a soothing distraction focusing on work after the nerve-jangling meeting with Xander and her eyelids grew heavy as she relaxed into the soft mattress. Perhaps she could get forty winks in now to power herself up before having dinner with Xander tonight? She wanted to be at her sharpest when she faced him again. She had a sneaking suspicion he was deliberately trying to unsettle her so he could avoid having to answer any of her probing questions.

      If he thought it was going to be that easy to get around her he had another think coming.

      A loud scuttling sound—which seemed to be emanating from under the bed—made her sit bolt upright in alarm.

      What the hell was that?

      Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw something dart from under the bed and disappear behind the vanity unit on the other side of the room.

      Goosebumps pricked her skin as all the hairs on her body stood up as one in disgust. Ugh! Bugs! Quite possibly cockroaches.

      Her spirits sank to the floor. How was she supposed to sleep with large indeterminate creatures running around under her bed?

      Taking care not to step on any of the little blighters, she dashed out of the room and back over to the reception and tried to persuade the woman to move her into a different room.

      Denied.

      It appeared—incredibly—that the hotel was fully booked.

      Jess sighed and went back to her room, feeling frustrated and discombobulated. She couldn’t afford to move out of this hovel—her savings wouldn’t stand it—and she wasn’t about to leave, not when the fate of her career was in the balance.

      She was just going to have to grit her teeth and suck it up.

      THREE

      When dinner time rolled around, Jess drove back over to Xander’s villa in an even more agitated state than when she’d left it, which didn’t bode well for a relaxed and fruitful interview with him.

      She hadn’t anticipated having to conduct her interview over dinner either. She used to hate eating in front of other people after struggling with an eating disorder for most of her teens. Thankfully things had got a lot better on that front after she’d taken herself off for counselling during her time at university. After talking things through she’d been able to work out a way to deal with the feelings of shame and self-loathing that tipped her into comfort eating when she felt stressed and she hadn’t had a relapse since.

      She had a suspicion that eating in front of Xander was going to be a real test of her fortitude, though. He was just so in your face with his off-the-scale charisma and haunting good looks.

      Damn him.

      Rosa opened the door to her with a smile and showed her through to the huge living room, which was furnished with only a sofa, small drinks table and fireplace. There was an amazing coloured-glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling, which looked a bit like an exploding bouquet of long-stemmed flowers. Refracted shards of light from it bounced off the walls, giving the room the feel of a disco paused in time. Jess had never experienced anything like it. ‘Xander’s running a little late, but he’ll be with you soon,’ Rosa said, giving Jess a kind smile. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

      ‘Just some water, please,’ Jess said, determined to remain sharp and focused that evening, which meant no alcohol for her. She didn’t tend to drink much anyway—hating the way alcohol messed with her head—and she had a horrible feeling that just a sniff of the stuff tonight would be a disaster in terms of keeping her cool and collected front in place.

      Rosa nodded and gestured to the sofa before leaving her alone in the room.

      Jess chose not to sit down, nerves making her too edgy to stay still, and instead wandered around the room. She took a closer look at the beautiful marble fireplace and the amazing glass chandelier, shifting uncomfortably in her six-inch heels as she waited for Xander to materialise. She’d chosen these shoes at the last second thinking the extra height would give her a bit more confidence, but they were already killing her feet, which set her teeth on edge.

      She was dragged out of her funk by the sight of Xander finally sauntering into the room, wearing a light blue linen shirt, open at the neck, dark combat trousers and a spellbinding smile on his face.

      He really was the perfect specimen of a man.

      Even the loose cut of his clothes couldn’t conceal the fact he had a killer body underneath. No doubt those lean muscles were flexing and bunching under his shirt as he moved towards her. It made her mouth water to think of it.

      How would he feel if she pressed her hands against his chest?

      Hard and soft at the same time.

      The tips of her fingers tingled in empathy with her thoughts and there was a disturbing rush of warmth in the depths of her pelvis. She had to practically cross her legs to dull the sensation in order to concentrate.

      Not good, Jess. Not good.

      How the heck was she going to get through the evening? Already the butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach were flapping about like wild things, which meant her appetite was at approximately zero on the famished to sated scale.

      ‘Welcome to my humble abode,’ Xander said, giving her a generous smile as he came to a halt in front of her.

      He seemed relaxed, insouciant even, as if he was anticipating a pleasant, gentle evening of good food and lively conversation.

      Her blood fired round her veins at the realisation that this dinner might not be quite as awkward as she’d anticipated. She just needed to keep focused and keep him on her side in order to get him to open up and talk about things that would make her article sparkle.

      ‘Take a seat,’ Xander said, motioning to the huge red velvet-covered