The Price of Fame (5 page)

‘You knew exactly what I meant.’ She frowned. ‘You didn’t tell me you were travelling to Fiji when we talked about Hawaii.’

‘Why would I? No exchanging personal information. Your rules, Charlotte, remember?’ he said softly. Seductively. The way he’d whispered how good she felt and what else he’d like to do to her.

‘I didn’t see you in the airline lounge in Melbourne or in Customs …’

‘That was my intention. You were adamant you only wanted one night, no further services required.’

She felt herself colour at his crude assessment of the evening. Obviously it would seem that way to him and why should he believe her if she tried to explain? But rather than
special, he made their night together sound cheap and sordid and ruined the memory and she resented him for that.

‘I’d have been better off facing up to that reporter,’ she said tightly.

He gave her a grin that twisted her insides into a tight little ball again. ‘Charlotte, come on. Loosen up a bit.’

She could read it in his eyes—
the way you were twelve hours ago
. Her chin lifted. ‘What about now? You’re not trying to avoid me
now
. In fact you’re making it your business to catch up with me.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Maybe you’re a reporter too and you were in on this together.’

‘You don’t really think that.’ He blew out a breath, looked about them. ‘Why don’t we find somewhere more private to talk—?’

‘No more private.’ She would not give in to the temptation and tightened her fingers on the handle of her suitcase. ‘Right here’s fine.’

‘Okay.’ He raised a hand as if to touch her face, then changed his mind, lowered it again. ‘I’ve been thinking about you for the entire flight. And I wondered if maybe you’ve changed your mind. Because I’d really like to see you again while we’re both here.’

‘I didn’t come to Fiji to meet someone. I came here to be alone.’

‘A shameful waste of romantic sunsets, don’t you think?’

‘No.’ She could enjoy sunsets; she didn’t need a man for that. And she refused to think what she did need a man for … So she didn’t think about how hard and hairy his forearm would feel if she reached out and touched it. She ignored his familiar masculine scent, arousing now in the humid air wafting through the exit doors. And she totally didn’t think about the dark, drugging taste of his
kisses, the way his eyes had glittered down at her in the dark, jaw clenched as he came inside her.

‘Admit it, Charlotte, you enjoyed our time together as much as I did.’ His voice was deep velvet and pure seduction. ‘It could be even better on a balmy tropical night with the windows open, the breeze wafting over hot damp skin …’

‘Yes,’ she snapped, not allowing herself to be tempted by the images he conjured. ‘Not the bit about
better
—’ she waved a jerky hand in front of her ‘—I meant last night. I admit it, okay? But that was last night.’

‘And you’re thinking how much you’d like to do it again.’

‘You … you’re way too sure of yourself.’

‘You prefer a less confident man?’

‘I prefer to be
alone
as I already told you. Men are not on my agenda right now.’

‘Yet you made an exception for me.’ He grinned. ‘I’m flattered.’

‘Don’t be.’ She pushed the words out. ‘You were available, you were convenient and I used you. I used you
shamelessly
. A one-off. Nothing more.’ She forced herself to look into his eyes and not crumple into a mindless mess. She even managed a smile—not too difficult when escape was just beyond those doors. ‘I hope you enjoy your vacation. Goodbye.’

‘I’ve got a car waiting. At least let me give you a lift to your hotel. Where are you staying?’

‘I’ve organised for a car from the resort to collect me. In fact, he’ll be wondering where I am.’ She started walking, made a show of looking at her watch while noticing most of the passengers from their flight had already left the terminal.

‘I’ll walk you out.’

Trailing her suitcase, she headed for the exit, not looking at Nic walking beside her. While she scanned the area for her ride, she saw Nic signal a shiny limo, which immediately drove to the kerb. The chauffeur who stepped out was middle-aged and wore smart traditional clothing.

He grinned, teeth white against his dusky skin. ‘Hey, Nic.
Bula vinaka!
’

‘Malakai,
bula
.’

Charlotte watched on, surprise mingling with confusion as the pair clasped hands and greeted each other as if they were old friends. ‘Another resort guest on your flight is riding with us,’ she heard the chauffeur say, looking about. ‘I don’t see her yet.’

Nic looked her way and said slowly, ‘Vaka Malua Resort by any chance?’

Oh, no. She couldn’t believe it. Then she noticed the colours of the hotel’s logo in the man’s attire—turquoise, black and ivory. Of all the resorts she could have chosen … She nodded once. Fate was truly punishing her.

Nic said something to the other man in a low voice, then stepped up and took her bags, swung them into the limo’s boot and said, ‘Charlotte, this is Malakai.’

Malakai flashed his wide smile for her and opened the car door. ‘
Bula
, ma’am. Welcome to Fiji.’

‘Hello.
Bula
.’ She forced a smile for him but her mind was scrambled as she walked towards the vehicle.

Maybe she’d make some sense of it when she could finally close the door to her suite and block out the rest of the world. Vaka Malua was a new luxury resort and, according to its website, spacious and private. She had her own personal plunge pool and a view overlooking the sea. If she chose, she could avoid the other tourists. Nic, for instance.

Nic waited until she’d climbed into the vehicle, then made a snap decision and slid in beside Charlotte, ensuring
plenty of space between them. She was giving off vibes that would have most fellow passengers diving for the seat next to the driver, and under normal circumstances he would have enjoyed catching up with Malakai. But he knew it was all a front designed to keep him at a distance when what she really wanted was for him to touch her again.

As they headed south from Nadi towards the Coral Coast and Natadola Beach he carried on a running conversation with Malakai, but his mind was on the passenger sitting stiffly beside him.

He didn’t believe Charlotte’s talk about a convenient fling for a second. He knew women and she wasn’t the type. He’d manipulated the situation to his advantage. So she was understandably annoyed with him, but even behind her invisible shield he could feel the pull between them.

Unlike him, she obviously came from old money. A rich babe with something to hide? He’d seen the emotion cloud her pretty grey eyes when she’d talked about her mother’s pearls and the family holiday in Hawaii. Family was obviously important to her.

She claimed she didn’t want anything to do with him. He had forty minutes or so to work on that. He pressed the button and the limo’s window slid partway down, letting in the welcome fragrance of the tropics. ‘Have you been to Fiji before, Charlotte?’

‘No.’

He laid an arm across the back of the seat and angled himself so he could see her better. ‘First impressions?’

‘Friendly. Relaxing … I hope.’ She sniffed the inrushing air. ‘What’s burning?’

‘Sugar cane. They burn off before harvesting.’ Her hair was tied back but strands were escaping and twirling
around her temples. He only had to lift a finger and he’d be able to touch it but she was just starting to relax. ‘Is the breeze bothering you?’

She shook her head. ‘You know the driver,’ she murmured.

‘I’m a regular visitor to Fiji and Vaka Malua. Malakai’s worked there since the resort opened.’

‘Okay … so what does
Vaka Malua
mean?’

He looked into her eyes and said, ‘It means to linger, or stay awhile.’

Of course it did
—he could read the scepticism in her eyes. She held his gaze a split second longer, then turned away to let the air blow on her face.

He smiled to himself and turned to watch the Fijian green slide by before looking back at her. ‘Do you travel a lot?’

‘Not for the past couple of years.’

‘How long are you here?’
How long do I have to convince you to change your mind?

‘Two weeks.’

‘Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for.’

She didn’t reply.

Sensing she wasn’t going to open up, he used the rest of the journey to provide a running commentary of the area they were passing through. Large cream dwellings set back from the road amongst encroaching vegetation, purple and red flamed bushes and stands of banana palms. The regular abundance of locals walked along the side of the road.

The resort came into view, a cluster of steep-pitched grey roofs in the traditional way of Fijian architecture, the Vaka Malua Club’s deluxe bures perched on the top of the hill, the rest of the resort sweeping down to the beach.

Malakai pulled under the portico and the wide open-air reception area. ‘You getting out here too?’ he asked Nic.

‘No.’ He turned to Charlotte as Malakai slid out to open her door. ‘Here we are. I have something to take care of elsewhere.’ He nodded towards the staff approaching with smiles and banjos and shell necklaces. ‘Looks like the welcome party’s ready to cater to your every wish and command.’

She looked quickly at him and her eyes flashed hot—as he’d intended them to with his mention of wishes—before her gaze darted away to her handbag, which she’d strategically placed on the seat between them. ‘I hope you enjoy your visit,’ she said, climbing out.

‘You too.’ He watched her departure, unable to stop his gaze from wandering. She had the sexiest backside he’d ever come into contact with.

She was going to be here two weeks.

‘Wait.’ Flipping open his wallet, he pulled out an Aussie fifty-dollar note and scrawled his phone number across the bottom. He jumped out, came around to her side of the limo and tucked it in the top of her handbag. ‘In case you change your mind.’

Without waiting for her response, he climbed back into the limo and shut the door. ‘Take me home, Malakai.’

Smiling, he wondered who’d give in first.

‘T
HE
new furniture arrived safely?’ Nic talked freely now they were alone and heading for Nic’s residence adjacent to the resort along a private road crowded with lush vegetation.

‘Ni mataka
,’ Malakai told him. Tomorrow. ‘It was sent to the resort by error this afternoon. They promised to come back in the morning.’

‘And the artwork’s finished?’

‘Io.’
Yes. ‘Tenika likes the paintings very much.’ Malakai spoke with shy fondness of his wife. ‘We hung it like you said. Very nice.’

‘I’m looking forward to seeing it.’

Nic was also looking forward to catching up with the couple who occupied a separate wing of his home, keeping the whole place spotless and liveable whenever he was down south, which was often weeks at a time. It was so satisfying to be in a position to provide two people he cared about with employment and accommodation. He knew how it was to live in poverty.

Moments later they drove through the high gates and onto the property. His contentment rubbed alongside pride as his luxury white home with its timber-louvred shutters open to the afternoon breeze came into view. He’d bought it several years ago as part of an ageing hotel. Then he
had negotiated with the owners to bring the whole resort into the twenty-first century by becoming a silent partner.

It had been a gamble, sinking his first million into something he knew little about, but it had paid off, providing an ongoing income for locals. He hadn’t done too badly out of it himself. He didn’t get involved with the day-to-day business but he spent time at the resort when he wasn’t working, knew the staff, attended festivities, checked on its overall efficiency.

But his private home was a sanctuary he guarded fiercely with high walls and monitored security. He didn’t entertain here and no woman ever came within these walls. Not since Angelica. If he wanted female company while he was in Fiji, he found it elsewhere at another resort, preferably away from the main island.

The car stopped and Nic stepped out, leaving Malakai to park it undercover and bring in his luggage as he always insisted on doing as part of his job.

Luxuriant foliage and tropical flowers lined the path. He noticed a couple of recently planted hibiscus bushes and one of Tenika’s personal touches—a Fijian carving, the equivalent of a garden gnome.

Over the next few hours he caught up with Malakai and Tenika over refreshments, admired the new kitchen garden they’d planted in his absence.

Later, refreshed from a swim and a shower, he checked his computer. Twilight settled over the bay with purple and vermilion hues. The smell of the resort’s kerosene torches wafted through the window. The nightly traditional
Meke
on the lawns down by the sea was in full swing. Distant singing and drumming throbbed on the air. Nic sat back, satisfied the five massive screens reflecting a three-dimensional wrap-around image of the Utopian world he’d created were ready to work on.

Utopian Twilight
had been his first major success, written—inspired—after The Angelica Incident. It had taken three years in the courts to reclaim the earlier works she and her lover on the side had plagiarised. Retreating from real life’s raw deal into his alternative world had saved him.

Chameleon Twilight
had followed a couple of years later.
Chameleon Council
, the final in the trilogy, was almost finished. He needed a break to revitalise his creativity, but online gamers were clamouring for more of the Onyx One’s adventures. So … Leaning back, he tapped his fingers on the edge of his desk … Bring in an unexpected new love interest for the Onyx to keep the female players on board …?

From his upstairs office window, his gaze drifted to the exclusive club bures. Maybe his last-minute heroine would be a woman with a quirky penchant for personalised accessories … with a mysterious past …

After checking in to the resort, dinner in her room and an early night, Charlotte spent the first day lazing by her pool and catching up on a novel she’d been meaning to read for ever. She also enjoyed the warm tropical air on her winter-pale skin, the wide blue Pacific view from her balcony, the friendly room service.

It was because she needed some alone time—not because she didn’t want to bump into Nic.

In fact, she didn’t think of Nic at all. And she did
not
look at that fifty-dollar note burning a hole at the bottom of her bag. It was illegal to deface money, wasn’t it? She ought to report him.

He was reminding her that he was here somewhere. Available. A phone call away.

On the second morning she threw back the sheets at six a.m. She would not allow him to dictate what she could
and could not do on her first precious vacation in more than two years. Why should she feel like a prisoner in such a luxurious resort with the balmy breeze tickling her skin and beckoning her outside for an early morning walk?

So after a quick breakfast in her room, she pulled on a pair of skinny white pants and a shell-pink T-shirt. She piled her pad and pencils and a bottle of water in her holdall, plonked her sunhat on her head and ventured out.

She breathed in the salty beach smell. Breakfast aromas from the open-air restaurant. Freedom and relaxation.

The thick, scented air stroked her skin as she set off past the bures and along tidy curved paths flanked with Fijian Fire Plants and their brilliant red and gold and chartreuse leaves.

She passed the early risers heading towards the pools and other water activities. She could hear the distant splashes and laughter over the soft murmur of the sea. It sounded like fun.

But, for today at least, she wanted alone time with no distractions. She headed for a clump of scraggy casuarinas and Screw Pines not far away.

Three weeks ago she’d sold her parents’ winery where she’d always worked. It had been a close-knit family business and she’d managed the office. The new owners had invited her to stay on but she didn’t want to work with strangers who might want to change the way her family had operated the business for generations.

She didn’t need paid employment—she had her inheritance—but she had to do
something
. The charities she and her mum had put so many hours into weren’t enough of a challenge or distraction.

Until she came up with that elusive something, she’d continue with her lingerie designs, which she’d played with over the past few years. Only a hobby, but she loved the
whole process—the designing, the construction and, most of all, the wearing of them.

Underneath her plain outerwear, she could indulge her secret passion for sexy and be that sensual woman she wanted to be. The way Nic had made her feel for those few special hours …

Get that thought out of your head
.

As she approached the pines she saw colourful bougainvillea trailing over a high cream wall. She noticed a wide break in the foliage and walked through. A bright umbrella provided shade for the wooden table and chairs. There were a couple of recliner chairs covered with striped matting for those who wanted to sunbathe, but it seemed the guests were more interested in the water because there wasn’t a soul around. Perfect.

She opened her sketch pad and spread it on the table, pulled out her pencils and let her hand wander over the paper, experimenting.

The Pacific Islands. Vivid colours and bold designs. Sexy playful styles that spoke of fun and summer. But with her libido still so highly charged, she could still feel the sparks and her ideas soon turned to more erotic designs. Crotchless knickers. Hmm. They’d have come in handy the other night …

Her hand moved quicker over the paper as ideas formed. She’d just finished designing an idea for a bra with a star-burst radiating from a peek-a-boo cut-out in the centre of the cups when she heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching.

‘Hey, there. You.’ The deep male voice shattered the peace like a volley of gun shots. Stern, annoyed. And familiar. She jerked her hat lower, pushed her sunglasses further up her nose and peeked beneath the brim.

Nic was striding towards her in a pair of short white
shorts. The rest of him was naked, showing off his well-defined abs and a washboard stomach glistening in the sun. He’d been swimming or working out. More like swimming by the way his shorts clung to his thighs. Her breath caught and her pulse did a crazy happy dance.

She ordered it to
stop
. ‘Are you stalking me? Bec—’

‘Stalking
you
?’ he snapped out. ‘You’re on private property.’ He came to an abrupt halt a few metres away, squinting and shielding his eyes against the sun’s early morning rays. ‘Charlotte?’

Spreading her trembling hands over her sketches to hide them, she managed to flip the cover down and stood up to minimise the difference in height. ‘I—’

‘What are you doing here?’

‘It’s a free resort,’ she said, lifting her chin. ‘And what do you mean private property?’ A not-so-funny feeling slid through her stomach … He’d not checked in to the resort with her … ‘I had no idea this part was private property. What are
you—
?’

‘The sign on the gate gave you no clue?’

‘What gate?’ She looked back to where she’d come from. ‘Oh. That gate.’ That big double gate with ‘Private Property, No Guests’ on it in big black letters. She swung to face him. ‘If you leave it open so wide that no one knows it’s there, one can’t be blamed for not seeing it.’

He exhaled sharply and muttered, ‘The furniture movers must have left it open.’

Mind brimming with questions, she stared at him, then at the surroundings. Her eyes flicked over his shoulder and now she noticed glimpses of a thatched structure—probably a pool shade—through the heavy bushes. ‘You live here?’

He moved a step closer, his gaze curious and drawn to her sketch pad. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Nothing.’ Snatching her pad off the table, she slapped it against her chest. ‘Just sketching. The flowers. Leaves. Shapes. Nothing really.’

‘How do I know?’ His dark eyes captured hers. ‘It could be
you
stalking
me
. I don’t know you, after all, do I, Charlotte? How do I know you’re not here to—?’

‘Who
are
you?’

‘Nic Russo. And I live here.’ He gestured with his chin. ‘Show me what you’re working on.’

Sketches of scantily clad female anatomy? ‘No. It’s private.’

One brow lifted. ‘So is this garden.’

‘And it’s beautiful.’ She said the first thing that came into her spinning head. ‘Stunning. And I love those masks on the wall …’

‘So are you—beautiful and stunning.’ His voice slid over her senses like honey. ‘Are you wearing a mask too, Charlotte? Hiding who you really are?’ He resumed walking towards her. Predatory male with his prey cornered.

She slid one foot ever-so-slightly backwards, mentally calculating the direction of the gate behind her. Trying to figure how long it would take to get there if she ran very fast. ‘No. I’m a private person, that’s all.’

‘So am I when it comes to guarding what’s mine. Maybe that reporter was onto something,’ he continued slowly, as if enjoying himself. But she couldn’t be sure. ‘Maybe you’re an undercover spy. Out to steal my next project.’

‘Spy?’
she sputtered, incredulous, but, for heaven’s sake, now he looked
serious
. ‘Steal?’ She took another step back. ‘Are you living in some alternate reality or just plain crazy?’ She shook her head, kept walking backwards. ‘I refuse to have this ridiculous conversation.’

He followed, quickly gaining on her. ‘Alternate reality. Interesting you should say that. A coincidence?’ He was
so close now she could see his long black eyelashes. Every pinprick of dark stubble. The
almost
smile tucked away at the corner of his mouth. Maybe.

But maybe not.

‘I apologise for trespassing,’ she went on, ‘but I’d appreciate a straight answer before I leave.’

‘And if I give you that answer, will you let me see what you’re working on?’

She tightened her grip on her work. ‘No.’

He spread his hands. Resigned? Somehow she didn’t think so. She tapped her finger against the pad. ‘Straight answer, please.’

‘I write computer programs. Very lucrative computer programs.’

‘Oh …’ She’d figured he was more of an outdoors job kind of guy. ‘Like accounting software, that kind of stuff?’

‘Not quite.’ He sounded amused. ‘Do I look like an accountant?’

She grinned, amused right back despite herself. ‘Not quite.’

‘I build alternative worlds and create characters to live there. It’s interactive. Anyone can visit so long as they pay and log in online. But some people think it’s okay to steal work that’s taken another person years of blood, sweat and tears to write.’ There was a cold, implacable calm of personal experience behind the brown gaze.

‘Okay. I understand. I’m sorry, I just saw the garden and no one was around …’

‘Or maybe you couldn’t stay away.’ His voice deepened, his eyes changed. Tempted. ‘You asked about me around the resort and came to tell me you wanted to continue what we started for a few more days.’

‘No … Nic … I …’
need to think
. Except she couldn’t remember what about when he was looking at her that way.
He closed the gap between them. She could smell the sharpness of salt water on his hot masculine skin. ‘No …’

The breeze had strengthened and his hair blew around his face as he said, ‘You could clear everything up if you prove you’re actually working on something here and not just lurking.’

‘I wasn’t lurking, I was—’

‘Hoping desperately that I’d come out and find you,’ he murmured silkily. She heard his words but it was their smooth, deep cadence that captured her. She remembered how it had sounded when he’d laid her down on the bed and told her what he was going to do to her, and how.

He took her hat off, tossed it on the table. His hands moulded firmly around her shoulders and he pulled her closer, his lips a warm whisper away from hers. She swayed towards them, couldn’t wait to feel them on hers. When he pulled the pad out of her loosening grasp and laid it on the table beside her, she didn’t attempt to stop him.