The Price of Fame (10 page)

‘Bad one?’ Charlotte’s curiosity soared.

‘Angelica,’ Tenika muttered. ‘Bad.’

Charlotte was dying to ask more but Nic was already ending his call.

Tenika lifted a couple of ripe mangoes from the bottom of her basket and turned on the tap. ‘
Ni
mataka
, you go back to Australia?’

‘Tomorrow, yes.’

‘You and he had a friendly visit here,
io
?’

Nic exchanged an intimate glance with Charlotte that told her exactly how friendly her visit had been.

Charlotte was so caught up with watching Nic and controlling the sudden heat rushing up her neck, she barely noticed Tenika walk to the door.

‘You come back again soon,’ she said, smiling at the pair of them. ‘I go now. Enjoy
kakana
together.
Moce
.’

‘
Moce
. Goodnight.’ Charlotte and Nic spoke in unison.

‘Friendly, huh?’ Charlotte said, slinging an arm around his neck as soon as they were alone. ‘I assume
kakana
means a meal and not hot sex?’

Grinning, Nic gave her a casual kiss, then moved to the fridge and began taking out ingredients. A large fillet of fish, a plate of chopped cherry tomatoes and onions, a bowl of coconut milk. ‘With Tenika, I wouldn’t be too sure. Fijian women are born matchmakers.’

Best to leave that one alone
. ‘Anything I can do to help?’

‘You can slice this lime if you want.’ He set it in front of her with a knife.

Charlotte settled herself on a bar stool across from him. ‘What are you cooking?’

‘Fish in coconut milk. A special Fijian dish.’ He sliced the fish into steaks. ‘This is
paka paka
—fresh snapper.’

He set the pieces sizzling in a pan, then arranged the spinach and ginger leaves Tenika had picked on aluminium foil on a shallow dish and added the tomatoes and onion. The sharp, piquant aromas filled the kitchen.

‘Taste this.’ He dipped a spoon in the coconut milk and held it out. ‘Freshly squeezed.’

‘Oh, my.’ She licked the thick substance from her lips while Nic placed the seared fish on the bed of leaves. ‘That is rich, rich, rich.’

‘Now we pour it over and add your lime.’

While Charlotte arranged the slices, she imagined how
it could be—the intimacy of being a couple and sharing the ups and downs of their day while they cooked the evening meal together.

But Nic wasn’t that man and her heart faltered. What was she doing, thinking those thoughts? He was never going to offer any woman commitment. Was the woman called Angelica the reason?

‘We seal the foil and let it bake while we drink cocktails and I give you the grand tour … What is it?’

She pulled herself back and realised he was watching her, a groove between his brows.

‘Just thinking how much I’m going to miss …’
you
‘… being here.’

‘That’s good to hear because it means I’ve been successful in my job as tour guide.’ He rinsed his hands, then pulled two cocktail glasses brimming with something red and blue and exotic from the fridge.

‘That looks interesting.’

‘I like to experiment. I call this one Fijian Sky.’

She took the proffered glass, then walked to the balcony, held the glass up against the vermilion-streaked sunset. ‘Perfect.’ Nic followed and she turned, clinked her glass to his. ‘To a tour guide extraordinaire
and
magical cocktail maker.’

He nodded. ‘To muses.’

‘Mmm.’ She let the potent alcoholic flavour work its way down her throat. ‘Speaking of muses, are you going to show me your work?’

‘I’ve not been very productive of late.’

‘My fault. But I’m not going to apologise.’ Since he didn’t offer any further information, or offer to show her around, she prompted, ‘You have an office somewhere, I assume?’

‘Upstairs.’

When he didn’t move, she leaned closer, dragged a finger down his chest to his belt and stared up at him. ‘You’ve seen mine, it’s only fair you show me yours.’

An answering smile touched his lips and his eyes turned molten. ‘Fair enough.’ He rubbed his lips over hers before leading the way through the spacious living area.

The sound of water was everywhere, from the fountain to the salt-water infinity pool to an indoor garden in one corner with miniature waterfall.

Charlotte admired the Fijian décor throughout, raked ceilings and mahogany louvred panels open to allow air circulation, casual furniture around locally inspired carved tables. ‘This is a beautiful home. Did you have a hand in designing it?’

‘I had an interior designer come in and renovate,’ he said as they climbed the stairs. ‘It was pretty run-down when I bought it.’ He flicked a switch and the room was filled with a cool ethereal glow.

‘Wow.’ She stared at the vast yet cluttered work space. A jumble of cables and computer paraphernalia took up half the room. Fantasy posters of alien landscapes covered every available wall surface. Metallic statues of mystical unearthly creatures with gleaming eyes of amber and blood-red stared at her from an array of bookshelves. A living vine of some sort grew in a pot by the window and wound its way across the ceiling.

‘Dom Silverman,’ she murmured, studying the multitude of awards above his computer. ‘Your pseudonym?’

She noticed he hesitated at her mention of Silverman. Without comment, he switched on a computer and several screens lit up to form an almost 3-D landscape, alive with creatures and humans.

She leaned closer, eyes narrowed. ‘Who’s that girl?’

Damn
. Nic had no idea how she’d persuaded him to
show her his office, his work, so easily. His alter ego, Dom Silverman. Yes, he did—with one finger and a hot look, it seemed she could make him forget everything, including caution. ‘That’s Reena.’

Charlotte peered closer. ‘She looks like me …’

‘Now that you mention it, she does. How about that?’ He clicked a button and Reena wrapped herself in a silvery cloak and promptly disappeared.

‘Well, bye bye, Reena,’ Charlotte murmured and sipped from her glass, still watching the screens. ‘So what’s happening in Reena’s world at the moment?’

‘Nothing much lately. I’ve been playing around with some ideas for turning the games into a book when I’ve finished.’ He gestured to the laptop he’d been working on for the past several evenings after seeing Charlotte to her bure. ‘I’ve been working on computer games for eighteen years. I’m thinking maybe it’s time for a change.’

‘With your game’s success, a publisher’s bound to snap it up.’

‘I’m not sure I want to publish it. Maybe it’s more of a hobby. Like your underwear.’

‘Lingerie.’
She smiled. ‘How did you get involved in computers?’

‘When I was thirteen, the school ran a contest to design the school’s website. I don’t want to sound as if I’m blowing my own trumpet, but a teacher saw my potential and arranged for me to work in an office off the staff room outside of lesson times.’

‘Darling, you can blow your trumpet any time you like.’ She did that erotic thing with her finger again, except this time she didn’t stop at his belt.

Eyes fused with hers, he gripped her hand and pressed it against his burgeoning erection. ‘The prize was a computer.’

‘And naturally you won.’

‘Naturally.’ He set his glass on the desk so he could run his other hand along the tops of her full breasts. ‘I love when you wear this sarong …’

‘I know.’ Her voice was a husky purr, tempting him to unwind it and—’But … I think I smell our dinner burning.’

‘Damn.’ It wasn’t the only thing burning.

She stepped back, laughter mingling with the heat in her eyes. ‘I’m so looking forward to it.’

He was too, and it wasn’t dinner he was thinking about. But then, she already knew that.

T
HEY
ate on the balcony with tea lights flickering in red glasses and fluorescent purple fairy lights strung along the balcony. The flames from the kerosene torches on the beach soared in the distance, the songs from the evening’s
Meke
drifted on the air.

The fish was delicious, the wine chilled and fruity, the company perfect. Charlotte stirred sugar into her after-dinner coffee. The tropics would soon be a world away and, as much as she loved it here, her home was amongst the vineyards and close trusted friends. She craved the familiar and comfortable. Nic didn’t fit into her cosy picture.

With his islander shirt and golden tan and idyllic lifestyle, Nic belonged in this place he’d made his home. Who could fail to be lured by the South Pacific’s magic?

‘You love it here, don’t you?’ she said, picking up her cup.

He leaned back on his chair, arms behind his head, an ankle resting on one bronzed thigh. ‘I love the freedom and lifestyle. I can leave the windows open, come and go as I please. Sleep when I want or work all night. No one bothers me here.’

She noticed something dark flicker in the depths of his eyes at his mention of the last. ‘You enjoy your solitude?’

‘Sure I do.’ His lips were set in a smile but his facial muscles tensed in a subtly different way.

She sipped slowly, watching him over her cup. When he was around people he was charming and attentive, romance was his forte. But when it came to anything deeper there was a barrier he wasn’t ready or willing to lower.

She wanted to know why. She needed to know that there wasn’t something inherently wrong with
her
that men didn’t want to get involved. Or was she being overly sensitive? Because Nic couldn’t have been more explicit about where they stood relationship-wise on their first night together here.

‘You don’t want a special someone to share your life?’

Any pretence at a smile he’d had, faded. ‘I thought I made that clear.’ He pushed off his chair and walked to the railing where the evening breeze fluttered his hair and a bamboo wind chime.

She remained seated but followed him with her gaze. Given a choice, how could anyone not want the comfort of loved ones around them? Seeing his solitude had made it so clear to her how much she missed her family. How much she wanted that feeling of connection and closeness again in the future. ‘Ever?’ she asked.

‘We’ve been through all that.’

She heard the warning tone but she couldn’t let it go. ‘That’s just sad.’ She saw the tension stiffen his shoulders and said softly, ‘Was your family life so b—?’

‘That’s enough.’ He swung to face her. His eyes were dark, impenetrable.

‘No. You know about mine. Why are you so defensive? Why do—?’

‘It was only Mum and me, okay? When she bothered to come home.’ He looked stunned, as if he hadn’t intended to spill that information.

‘Oh …’ She trailed off, unable to imagine such a scenario and unsure how to respond. ‘Working …?’

His mouth was a flat line, his jaw tight as a fist. ‘Yeah, she worked, she worked damn hard. Then spent it playing poker and who knows what else, forgetting she had a son waiting at home for her.’

Charlotte wanted to hug the little boy he’d been, to comfort the man he was now, but she knew those were the last things he’d want from her, so she remained where she was. ‘That must have been difficult.’

Nic shrugged. Then sighed. Charlotte was right. He’d fought to keep his past where it belonged but those defences were crumbling, the memories flashing back as if it were yesterday. He wanted to bury his face in her neck until it passed.

With Charlotte he found himself sharing things he’d never told anyone. ‘I learned to cope. Even when she was alive, I was travelling solo. I guess at the very least you could say she taught me independence.’

‘Were you living at home when she died?’ Her tone was tentative.

‘Technically, yes, but it was more the other way around—
she
was living with
me
. I hit the big time with my computer games when I was still in my teens. Money was no longer the problem.’

Charlotte’s eyes filled with sadness, clouds on a soft rainy morning. ‘Oh, the poor thing. Was she ill for a long time?’

He stared at her a beat before he realised she didn’t get him at all. ‘Save your sympathies—she wasn’t sick a day in her life. She came out of the pub one day and stepped in front of a bus. Too busy counting her winnings—or more likely her losses—to pay attention to road rules.’

She blinked, obviously shocked. ‘Oh. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay. I can’t honestly say I missed her because I never saw her. From as far back as I remember, her life’s routine never changed. Gone first thing in the morning, back at midnight.’

‘Even when you were a kid?’

His mother was one thing but the dark days of his childhood were
not
up for discussion. He looked away, focused on the empty blackness of the sea and found it entirely appropriate. ‘As I said, it taught me to rely on myself, by myself.’

He turned back to see her eyes still soft and sad, and, clenching his fists at his sides, he fought the mad impulse to reach out to her. Mad because she was trying to replace that loss with herself. She was a family girl looking for a family; something he couldn’t give her. ‘I don’t know how to be any other way, babe.’

‘Maybe that’s because you’ve never tried.’ She stood up and walked over to him, laid a hand on his arm. ‘Maybe that’s why you created the fantasy world,’ she murmured. ‘To compensate for what’s lacking in your life.’

His lungs constricted at her perceptive insight into his innermost self. ‘My life’s just fine, thanks.’

She leaned back against the railing so that she could look him dead in the eye. ‘What happened with … Angelica, was it?’

‘How the hell …?’

She flicked a hand. ‘Tenika might have mentioned her name. And the word “bad”. In the same sentence.’

‘God, a man can’t leave two women together for less than a minute—’

‘Nic. She cares about you. And you may not want to hear this, but I’m going to say it anyway so you’ll just have to deal with it. So do I.’

Her eyes were wide and clear, her voice strong and determined
yet at the same time filled with an offer of comfort, or at the very least a willingness to listen, whether he wanted to accept it or not. And he realised she’d risked his displeasure or worse.
Because she cared
. Something warm and unfamiliar slid through him. She deserved something of him in return.

‘Remember that first morning here I accused you of spying in my garden?’ He looked away, out to sea. ‘You can blame Angelica for my paranoia.’ Even the name still sent a shudder down his spine. ‘The woman had beauty and brains. Enough intelligence to steal my work and enough audacity to pass it off as hers.’

‘Oh, Nic, that’s appalling.’

‘Make no mistake, I got it back through the courts.’

‘How did you meet?’

‘At a conference in the States. She was a computer programmer from Sydney.’

‘You were lovers?’

He glared at her. ‘What do you think?’

‘I wondered only because I can’t imagine anyone doing that to someone they cared about.’

‘That’s just it, she never did—care, that is. It was all about the games, and how she could use me. That’s when I decided to take another name and write my Utopian trilogy. Nic Russo no longer exists in online gaming.’ Pulling out his mobile, he rang through to Reception.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Arranging for your luggage to be brought up and checking you out.’

‘But—’

‘You’re staying here with me tonight.’

Moments later, in his bedroom, his fingers rushed to peel the sarong from her body as he’d been itching to do all evening. But as he looked into her eyes, the need for
speed was replaced by a new demand that was no less urgent. The need not only to claim, but to possess.

Passion rose as haste slowed. Time to absorb the drift of silky skin against his palms, the warmth of her breath mingling with his own, her lush curves that melted against him like sun-warmed honey.
Just a woman
, but the sensations shivered through him like quicksilver over smooth onyx.

Charmed.

The glow from the fairy lights outside his window bathed her in the mysteriously alluring shades of indigo and magenta, making him willing to forget why he’d never had a woman in this room since Angelica.

Her eyes were clear as still water, reaching inside him and touching the secret places in his heart that no woman had ever come close to. Understanding, accepting.

‘Charlotte …’ His murmur was low and heartfelt as he skimmed his hands over the slope of her breast, the flare of her hips. It wasn’t for ever, but for tonight—one last night—he would take everything she offered.

Charlotte didn’t want Nic to take her to the airport. Saying goodbye to this magical island was hard enough, saying goodbye to Nic, effectively ending their time together, all but impossible.

So she slid out of his bed before dawn, dressed quickly in the dimness, then rang for a taxi downstairs and slipped back to the resort’s reception area a two-minute walk away. She’d send him an email or text to let him know she’d arrived home safely. And that would be the end of it.

A few hours later, in the airline’s business lounge at Tullamarine, ten minutes before her flight to Adelaide was due to board, she tapped in Suzette’s number on her mobile. ‘Hi, Suz, I’m back. Or in Melbourne at least.’

‘Well, it’s about time.’ Charlotte heard the smile in her best friend’s voice. ‘You did tell me not to call so I didn’t.’

‘And I appreciate it.’

‘I know you needed the time to think about everything, but I thought about
you
while I froze through two of the coldest weeks this winter. Those golden beaches and hot tropical nights. Please tell me you had a wild romantic fling with some gorgeous guy and you’ve forgotten all about that creep who didn’t deserve you.’

Charlotte knew Suzette wasn’t entirely serious because the Charlotte Suzette knew would never have done such a thing. ‘Uh-huh.’

There was a stunned pause. ‘What?
What?
Fill me in now,’ she demanded. ‘What’s his name and what does he do?’

‘Nic Russo.’ Just saying his name made her heart skip a beat. ‘He writes computer games; the interactive, out-of-this-world kind. If you look up
Utopian Twilight
you’ll see what I mean—amazing.
He’s
amazing and—’ She realised she was talking too fast, gushing in fact, and pressed those wayward lips together.

‘
And …?
Where’s he from? Are you seeing him again?’

‘He …’
Reality check, Charlotte. He doesn’t want what I want. There’s nothing for us
. A band tightened around her chest and her eyes blurred suspiciously. ‘No, I’m not seeing him again. It was a fling, Suz. That wild romantic fling thing.’

‘Yeah, but …’

‘It’s over. Finished. Isn’t that what you told me to do? Forget
the creep
and enjoy myself and come back a different woman? I took your advice.’ And would live with the consequences. ‘I’ll be home by tonight if you want to come round. I’ve got an idea for a fashion show to raise funds for a Fijian school I visited.’
And I could sure use the company
. But she didn’t say it because it would make losing Nic more real when he’d never been hers to lose.

‘Love to, Charlie, but I’m still in the Riverland at the bridal fashion seminar. I’ll be back soon. I’ll let you know as soon as. In the meantime, email me some details on the show. I’d love to be involved.’

‘Okay.’ Charlotte caught the downbeat tone in her own voice and forced a smile, suddenly desperate to end this call before she spilled her guts. ‘Catch up with you then.’

As Charlotte disconnected a young woman in a business skirt and white blouse rose from a nearby seat and approached with a smile. Charlotte recognised her instantly from Adelaide’s social events. Great, the press; just what she didn’t need.

‘Ms Dumont, welcome back. I was sorry to hear about your recent split with Mr Edwards. What—?’

‘Our lives took different directions.’ Charlotte concentrated on sliding her phone into her bag. ‘Changed priorities. That’s all I have to say on the matter.’

‘How did you enjoy Fiji?’

‘It was great, thanks.’

Bright blue eyes gleamed with speculation. ‘What are your plans now?’

‘I really don’t have … Wait …’ Maybe she could use the press to her advantage for a change. ‘I intend hosting a charity event soon, to raise money for a Fijian school. I’ll be making an announcement to the Adelaide press soon.’

‘Any particular reason for your ch—?’

‘That’s all for now.’ Gathering her luggage together, she began walking. ‘I have a flight to catch.’

Nic frowned at his black computer screen while he fiddled with a miniature paper dragonfly on his desk. Charlotte had left without a word. Walked out of his life without a
backward glance. Hadn’t even left a note—just the imprint of her head on the pillow and her lingering fragrance. He sent the dragonfly soaring across the room.

So what was wrong with that scene? Why did his morning seem heavy with cloud when the sun was shining cheerfully on the palms outside his window? After all, wasn’t he habitually guilty of the same casual morning-after behaviour?

It was wrong because he’d not been the one with the final say
.

So he told himself he’d taken a long-overdue break. He’d enjoyed the company of a beautiful woman, now it was time to get back to work. He clicked keys, waited impatiently for his world to load. The screen lit up, the familiar scene appeared and he was home. In control. Supreme Commander of his Universe.

Scene: maroon sky, blood-red moon, splinters of obsidian thrusting skyward. Onyx One, chained to the sheer cliff. Screaming wind blowing up from the volcano’s fiery furnace below. Reena to the rescue on a winged amethyst creature, hair flying behind her, golden sword held high in one hand …

Charlotte.

Swearing, he shoved at the desk, his chair rolling back over the parquetry floor. He ploughed his hands through his hair and ordered himself to cool it. But all he could see was Charlotte in his bed, her beautiful body spread across his sheets like liquid gold, her gaze intense, her hands all over him wielding her signature brand of charm.