The Price of Fame. Anne Oliver

nice this time of year,’ she said to take her mind off her fantasies, determined to keep the conversation on neutral topics.

      He glanced at his pamphlets then at her, his gaze thoughtful. Unreadable.

      ‘I know we agreed on nothing personal but they were just there …’

      He smiled, all trace of whatever she’d seen in his eyes gone in one mischievous twinkle. ‘All good, Charlotte, it’s not personal. And yeah, it’s the best time of year. Get away from the cold.’ He bit off half his slice in one go and chewed, then washed it down with a mouthful of wine.

      She sliced a corner off her own piece, watching the man’s enthusiasm over the very ordinary food. He had a strong tanned neck and prominent Adam’s apple, which moved as he swallowed. Oil from the pizza glistened on his upper lip … She wanted to jump up, lean down and lick it off. She really needed to slow her thoughts down to warp speed.

      ‘You’ve been there before?’ she asked, keeping to the script.

      ‘I try to make it every couple of years. Hanalei Bay on Kauai. The surf’s great there. How about you—have you ever been?’

      ‘Once. To Maui. It was a family holiday to celebr …’ She trailed off as the memory of her parents’ tenth wedding anniversary surfaced. The little twinge in her heart had her rubbing her hand once over the area and caressing the pearls at her throat. ‘But that’s against the rules.’

      ‘Sure—if you say so.’ His eyes probed hers and his voice gentled. ‘You okay?’

      ‘Fine.’ Her smile relaxed as she finished the last bite, patted her mouth then popped the fancy napkin back in her bag. ‘You know, you’re a very nice man.’

      ‘Nice?’ His brows rose. ‘That’s a bit of a worry.’

      ‘I mean honest. Considerate …’ Totally gorgeous.

      He chuckled and popped the remainder of his pizza into his mouth. ‘You sure you’re not a rebellious princess on the run from some minor European nation somewhere?’

      ‘What? Oh, the napkin?’ She grinned back. ‘I’d carry my own cutlery if the airlines allowed it. I have personalised soap too. Somewhere …’ She searched the bottom of her bag unsuccessfully, then shrugged. ‘Call me eccentric.’ Or a product of a privileged and traditional upbringing. If her folks could see her now and knew what she was thinking …

      She bet Nic had a string of women in his life. She wondered how old he was. Around thirty? She reminded herself she didn’t want to know because then she’d want to know more. Like where he lived and what his work was and … how he liked to make love.

      ‘“Sex Fact or Fiction”.’

      She almost spluttered into her wine. ‘Pardon?’

      ‘The quiz.’ He was looking at the cover of the magazine she’d left on the desk. ‘You haven’t read it yet?’

      ‘I must’ve missed it. Obviously you didn’t.’

      ‘I’m a guy. I saw the word sex,’ he said, amusement in his voice as he flicked through the pages. ‘Okay, test your knowledge. Sales of condoms decrease when a recession hits—fact or fiction?’

      She took a moment to compose herself and consider. ‘Fiction. Definitely. Too expensive to go out and too expensive to have kids.’

      He nodded. ‘Correct. How about this? Humans are the only species to have sex for pleasure.’

      The way he said ‘pleasure’, all virile and velvet and promising, made her skin rupture with heat. She took another sip of wine. ‘Yes.’

      ‘Not so.’ He studied her with inscrutable eyes. ‘Apparently we’re not the only creatures on the planet wanting to get it on.’

      ‘Oh?’ But was she the only one in this room right now wanting to get it on? He was as relaxed as if he was discussing the weather, one arm slung over the back of the chair, whereas she was as tense as strung piano wire.

      ‘How about this, then? Men’s sexual organs are designed for more pleasure than women’s.’

      ‘Um …’ She trailed off at the hot promise of that pleasure. Her own feminine places dampened and she had to resist squirming on the chair. ‘Fiction.’

      ‘Yep. Women have it all over men in this department. According to the quiz, the clitoris is the only known organ that exists for the sole purpose of pleasure.’

      Oh. Her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. Had she ever had such a bizarrely intimate conversation with a guy before? ‘Um … sexual organs aside …’ she bit down on her bottom lip ‘… surely it would depend on who’s giving the pleasure?’

      His head came up and he looked at her through lazy-lidded eyes. ‘You’re a woman—you tell me.’

      ‘For me …’ She struggled for composure and sophistication. ‘It definitely depends on the partner.’

      ‘Wouldn’t this partner’s expertise have something to do with it? Besides liking the guy.’

      ‘Ah …’

      ‘I mean, you could be totally hot for him but if he doesn’t know how to do it for you … Ever had a guy like that? You really like him, the connection’s there, the spark, the desire, but then you’re left hanging. So to speak.’

      ‘Uh … hmm.’ Flynn. The earth hadn’t exactly moved with him. Ever. She’d told herself that was okay because she’d loved him, and love and affection and common goals were more important than physical fulfilment.

      Maybe she’d been wrong, because there’d been a shifting of tectonic plates happening beneath her feet since she’d kissed Nic. She knew instinctively that he wouldn’t be the type to leave any woman unsatisfied.

      ‘What’s this non-committal “hmm”?’

      ‘It’s a yes, okay?’ she snapped out, hating to admit it. Hating that he knew already. ‘I’ve had guys like that.’

      A slow and sexy, won’t-happen-if-you’re-with-me look drifted across his expression.

      If he ever decided to make a move.

      And why was this all about her? His focus was entirely too … focused. She deflected with, ‘But a guy can enjoy sex with anyone because it’s all about basic drive or need, right?’

      His gaze drifted over her like slow-moving lava. ‘Personally speaking, I like to connect with the woman I’m with. Enjoyment has to be about more than satisfying a basic urge. I feel a connection with you, Charlotte. I’m pretty sure you feel that connection too. I’d like to see where it takes us.’

       To heaven and beyond?

      His eyes had darkened as he spoke and she felt a shifting and thickening of anticipation in the air. But he didn’t move. Not so much as the flicker of an eyelash.

      Ah. ‘Are you waiting for me to give you the green light?’

      ‘Your call.’ He remained ostensibly at ease, legs sprawled in front of him, arm still relaxed on the back of the chair. Only a muscle tic in his jaw betrayed his tension. ‘You need to be sure this is what you want. But for pity’s sake, make it soon.’ His voice thickened and he looked down at his crotch. ‘Because you’re damn near killing me.’

      She’d deliberately kept her eyes above his waist, but now she followed his gaze to the impressive bulge in his shorts. And swallowed. Her whole body went weak, except for her galloping pulse. She also noticed his thighs were as tanned as his neck, sprinkled with dark hair and heavy with muscle as if he worked out. A lot.

      She wanted to touch. She wanted to feel those thighs rub against hers. She wanted that magnificent masculine part of him inside her.

      But she didn’t want entanglements.