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 had gone very still. He was watching her. Looking stunned.
‘SORRY,’ ELLA SAID. ‘It’s just … I—I bled on you.’
‘Ella, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to touch me.’
‘Sorry,’ Ella said again, jerking her fingers away.
Aaron promptly contradicted himself by taking the hand she’d pulled away and pressing it against his chest. He could actually hear his heart thudding. It was probably thumping against her palm like a drum. He didn’t care. He wanted her hand on him. Wanted both her hands on him.
He could hear a clock ticking somewhere in the room, but except for that and his heart the silence was thick and heavy.
I don’t even like her. He said that in his head, but something wasn’t connecting his head to his groin, because just as the thought completed itself he tossed the gauze aside and reached for her other hand, brought it to his mouth, pressed his mouth there, kept it there.
Okay, so maybe you didn’t have to like someone to want them.
He really, really hadn’t expected to see her again. She was supposed to be in LA. Their ‘relationship’ should have begun and ended with one awkward conversation at a wedding.
And yet here he was. And here she was. And he had no idea what was going to happen next.
When he’d walked into that bar tonight and seen her with that idiot, he’d wanted to explode, drag her away, beat the guy senseless.
And he never lost his temper!
He’d been so shocked at his reaction he’d contemplated leaving the bar, going somewhere else—a different bar, for a walk, to bed, anything, anywhere else. But he hadn’t.
He’d only been planning on having one drink anyway, just a post-flight beer. But nope. He’d stayed, sensing there was going to be trouble. She’d laughed too much, drunk too much, Tom the idiot engineer had fondled her too much. Something was going to give.
And something definitely had.
And of course he’d been there smack bang in the middle of it, like he couldn’t get there fast enough.
And then his arms had been around her. And she’d snuggled against him. Her tongue on his neck. And he’d wanted her. Wanted her like he’d never wanted anyone in his life.
And
