What the Paparazzi Didn't See. Nicola Marsh

      He prided himself on being a good judge of character. Hadn’t he picked Babs for a gold-digging tart the moment his dad had introduced her ten years ago?

      His people radar had served him well in business too, but something about this woman made him feel off-kilter. A feeling he wouldn’t tolerate.

      He needed to stay focused, remain in charge, to ensure he didn’t lose the one thing that meant anything to him these days.

      And as long as she was staring at him with that beguiling mix of fascination and curiosity, he couldn’t concentrate on anything.

      ‘Can’t a guy have a drink in peace without being accused of drowning his sorrows?’

      He sounded abrupt and uptight and rude. Good. She would raise her perfect pert nose in the air and stride inside on those impossibly high heels that glittered with enough sparkle to match her dress.

      To his surprise she laughed; a soft, sexy sound that made his fingers curl around the glass as she held up her hands in a back-off gesture.

      ‘Hey, no accusations here. Merely an observation.’

      A host of smartass retorts sprang to his lips and he planned on using them too. Until he glimpsed something that made him pause.

      She was nervous.

      He saw it in the way her fingertips drummed delicately on the stem of the champagne flute she clutched. Saw it in her quick look-away when he held her gaze a fraction too long.

      And that contradiction—her siren vamp appearance contrasting with her uncertainty—was incredibly fascinating and he found himself nodding instead.

      ‘You’re right. I was trying to take my mind off stuff.’

      The corners of her mouth curved upward, the groove in her right cheek hinting at an adorable dimple. ‘Stuff?’

      ‘Trust me, you don’t want to know.’

      ‘I used to worry about stuff once.’

      Intrigued by the weariness in her voice, he said, ‘Not anymore?’

      ‘Not after today,’ she said, hiding the rest of what she was about to say behind her raised glass as she took a sip.

      ‘What happened today?’

      Her wistful sigh hit him where he least expected it. Somewhere in the vicinity of his heart.

      ‘Today I secured a future for someone very important to me.’

      He didn’t understand her grimness or defensive posture, but he could relate to her relief. When he secured the future of Qu Publishing in memory of all his dad’s hard work, he’d be pretty damn relieved too.

      ‘Good for you.’

      ‘Thanks.’ She smiled again, sweet and genuine, and he couldn’t fathom the bizarre urge to linger, chat and get to know her.

      She wasn’t in his plans for this evening. Then again, what did he have to look forward to? Putting on a front for a bunch of back-slapping phoneys and gritting his teeth to stop from calling his stepmother a few unsavoury names?

      He knew what he’d rather be doing.

      And he was looking straight at her.

      ‘Do you want to get out of here?’

      Her eyes widened in surprise before a disapproving frown slashed between them. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me? I make polite small talk for two seconds and you’re propositioning me?’

      She shook her head, her disgust palpable.

      ‘Let me rephrase that.’ He tried his best smile, the one he used to win friends and influence colleagues. Her frown deepened. ‘What I meant was that I’ve had a long day. Landed in Melbourne this morning, had to attend this shindig for work tonight and I’m tired of the schmoozing.’

      He waved towards the balcony. ‘Considering you’re out here to get away from the crowd, I assume you’ve probably had a gutful too?’

      Her wary nod encouraged him to continue when he should cut his losses and run.

      ‘The way I see it, we have two choices. Head back in there and bore ourselves silly for the next hour or we can head down to The Martini Bar in the lobby and unwind before we head home—I mean, before we go our separate ways.’

      The corners of her mouth twitched at his correction.

      ‘What do you say? Take pity on a guy and put him out of his misery by saving him from another interminable stint in there?’

      Damn, he’d made a fool of himself, blathering like an idiot. What was it about this cool, classy blonde that had him rattled?

      He’d had her pegged wrong and he, better than anyone, should know never to judge the proverbial book by its cover.

      ‘So you weren’t propositioning me?’

      Was that a hint of disappointment? Mentally chastising himself for wishful thinking, he mimicked her frown. ‘Sadly, no. I’m too jet-lagged to—’

      He bit off the rest of what he was about to say when her eyebrow arched.

      Yep, he was stuffing this up royally.

      ‘To what?’

      At last, she smiled and it made him feel oddly excited, as if he wanted to see her do it again.

      ‘To muster up enough charm to ensure you couldn’t say no.’

      She chuckled and he joined in.

      ‘I like a guy with confidence.’ She laid her champagne glass on the ledge. ‘Let’s go get that martini.’

      He didn’t have to be asked twice. ‘You really made me work for that acceptance.’

      As he gestured for her to take the stairs ahead of him she cast him a coy glance from beneath her lashes. ‘Didn’t you know? You need to work your butt off for anything worth having.’

      ‘Is that right?’

      ‘Absolutely.’ She nodded, strands of artfully curled golden silk falling around her face in gorgeous disarray. ‘Nothing better than nailing a challenge.’

      He bit the inside of his cheek to prevent laughing out loud, finding her utterly beguiling. In contrast to her sex-kitten persona, she was forthright and rather innocent if she hadn’t picked up on that nailing remark.

      Then he made the mistake of glancing at her and saw the moment her faux pas registered.

      She winced and a faint pink stained her cheeks, making him want to ravish her on the spot.

      ‘That didn’t sound too good,’ she said, wrinkling her nose.

      ‘Now we’re even,’ he said, wondering what they’d come out with after a few drinks under their belts. ‘My mistaken proposition, your nailing suggestion.’

      ‘Guess we are.’ She eyed him speculatively, as if not sure what he’d say next.

      That made two of them.

      ‘Maybe we should stick to coffee tonight?’

      ‘Why’s that?’

      That dimple flashed adoringly again. ‘Because with our strike rate, who knows what’ll happen if we have a martini or two?’

      He laughed. ‘I was thinking the same thing.’

      ‘Coffees it is.’ She nodded, expecting him to agree.

      But there was a part of him that delighted in flustering this woman and he couldn’t help but wonder how she’d loosen up with a few drinks inside her.

      He leaned in close, expecting her to retreat a little, his admiration increasing, along with his libido, when she didn’t.

      ‘Actually,