From Fling to Forever. Avril Tremayne
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don’t want to embarrass you.’
‘I’m not easily embarrassed. I’ve got stories that would curl your hair. It’s inevitable, with three semi-wild younger sisters.’
‘I was all right, you know,’ she said. ‘I can look after myself.’
‘Can you?’
‘Yes. I’ve been doing it a long time. And he was harmless. Tom.’
‘Was he?’
‘Yes. I could have managed. I was managing.’
‘Were you?’
‘Yes. And stop questioning me. It’s annoying. And it’s hurting my head.’
They were outside the bar now and Aaron stopped. ‘Just one more,’ he said, and turned her to face him. ‘What on earth were you thinking?’
Ella was so stunned at the leashed fury in his voice she couldn’t think, let alone speak.
He didn’t seem to need an answer, though, because he just rolled right on. ‘Drinking like a fish. Letting that clown slobber all over you!’
‘He’s not a clown, he’s an engineer,’ Ella said. And then, with the ghost of a smile, ‘And fish don’t drink beer.’
He looked like thunder.
Ella waited, curious about what he was going to hurl at her. But with a snort of disgust he simply took her arm again, started walking.
He didn’t speak again until they were almost across the hotel lobby. ‘I’m sorry. I guess I feel a little responsible for you, given my relationship with Brand and Tina.’
‘That is just ridiculous—I already have a father. And he happens to know I can look after myself. Anyway, why are you here?’ Then, ‘Oh, yeah, I remember. The documentary.’ She grimaced. ‘Should I have known you’d be here now?’
‘I have no idea. Anyway, you’re supposed to be in LA.’
‘I was in LA. But now—It was a sudden decision, to come here. So it looks like we’ve surprised each other.’
‘Looks like it.’
Aaron guided Ella through a side door leading to the open air, and then along a tree-bordered path until they were in front of what looked like a miniature mansion. He would be in one of the presidential-style villas, of course. He didn’t look very happy to have brought her there, though.
‘How long will you be in town?’ she asked, as he unlocked the door.
‘Two weeks, give or take.’
‘So, you’ll be gone in two weeks. And I’ll still be here, looking after myself. Like I’ve always done.’ She was pleased with the matter-of-factness of her voice, because in reality she didn’t feel matter-of-fact. She felt depressed. She blamed it on the birthday.
Birthdays: misery, with candles.
‘Well, good for you, Ella,’ he said, and there was a definite sneer in there. ‘You’re doing such a fine job of it my conscience will be crystal clear when I leave.’
Hello? Sarcasm? Really? Why?
Aaron drew her inside, through a tiled hallway and into a small living room. There was a light on but no sign of anyone.
‘Is your son with you?’ she asked. Not that it’s any of your business, Ella.
‘Yes, he’s in bed.’
‘So you’ve got a nanny? Or is your wife—?’ Um, not your business?
‘Ex-wife. Rebecca is in Sydney. And, yes, I have a nanny, whose name is Jenny. I don’t make a habit of leaving my four-year-old son on his own in hotel rooms.’
Oh, dear, he really did not like her. And she was well on the way to actively disliking him. His attitude was a cross between grouchy father and irritated brother—without the familial affection that would only just make that bearable.
Aaron gestured for Ella to sit. ‘Do you want something to drink?’
Ella sank onto the couch. ‘Water, please.’
‘Good choice,’ Aaron said, making Ella wish she’d asked for whisky instead.
He went to the fridge, fished out a bottle of water, poured it into a glass and handed it to her. She didn’t deign to thank him.
She rubbed her forehead as she drank.
He was watching her. ‘Head still hurting?’
‘Yes.’
‘Had enough water?’
Ella nodded and Aaron took the glass out of her hand, sat next to her. He turned her so she was facing away from him. ‘Here,’ he said tetchily, and started kneading the back of her neck.
‘Ahhh …’ she breathed out. ‘That feels good.’
‘Like most actors, I’ve had a chequered career—massage therapy was one of my shorter-lived occupations but I remember a little,’ Aaron said, sounding not at all soothing like a massage therapist.
‘Where’s the dolphin music?’ she joked.
He didn’t bother answering and she decided she would not speak again. She didn’t see why she should make an effort to talk to him, given his snotty attitude. She swayed a little, and he pulled her closer to his chest, one hand kneading while he reached his other arm around in front of her, bracing his forearm against her collarbone to balance her.
She could smell him again. He smelled exquisite. So clean and fresh and … yum. The rhythmic movement of his fingers was soothing, even if it did nothing to ease the ache at the front of her skull. She could have stayed like that for hours.
Slowly, he finished the massage and she had to bite back a protest. He turned her to face him and looked at her lip. ‘It’s only a small tear. I have a first-aid kit in the bathroom.’
‘How very Triage of you, Aaron.’ He looked suitably unimpressed at that dig.
‘Just some ice,’ she said. ‘That’s all I need. And I can look after it myself. I’m a nurse, remember?’
But Aaron was already up and away.
He came back with a bowl of ice and the first-aid kit.
Ella peered into the kit and removed a square of gauze, then wrapped it around an ice cube. ‘It’s not serious and will heal quickly. Mouth injuries do. It’s all about the blood supply.’
Not that Aaron seemed interested in that piece of medical information, because he just took the wrapped ice from her impatiently.
‘I promise you I can do it myself,’ Ella said.
‘Hold still,’ he insisted. He held the ice on her bottom lip, kept it pressed there for a minute.
‘Open,’ he ordered, and Ella automatically opened her mouth for him to inspect inside. ‘Looks like you bit the inside of your lip.’ He grabbed another square of gauze, wrapped it around another cube of ice and pressed it on the small wound.
He was looking intently at her mouth and Ella started to feel uncomfortable. She could still smell that heavenly scent wafting up from his skin. Why couldn’t he smell like stale sweat like everyone else in that bar? She blinked a few times, trying to clear her fuzzy head.
Her eyes fell on his T-shirt and she saw a smear of blood on the collar. Her blood. Her fingers reached out, touched it. His neck, too, had a tiny speck of her blood. Seemingly of their own volition her fingers travelled up, rubbing at the stain. And then she remembered how it had got there. Remembered in one clear flash how she had put her mouth there, on his skin. She felt a flare of arousal and sucked in a quick breath.
He