cut her hair so that it now fell to her shoulders, but the wispy gold lengths still caught the light as they always had. He was relieved to see the burning intensity of her stare hadn’t diminished over the years.
‘Ellie.’
‘It’s Elise,’ she corrected him, her tone careful, guarded. ‘I haven’t been Ellie for a long time.’
‘You’ll always be Ellie to me.’
She pursed her lips. ‘You can call a dog a cat, but it will always be a dog.’
‘Sounds like someone’s getting their daily dose of Confucius.’
Her eyes narrowed as she folded her arms across her chest. ‘What brings you to Melbourne?’
Her suspicion cut him deeply; at one point they’d been as close as siblings despite the fact that he’d wanted so much more. Unfortunately five years ago that bond had been irrevocably broken. Now he was here because he’d been dragged back to bury his abusive, deadbeat father. But that was a topic of conversation best avoided.
‘Business.’
‘Good to see nothing has changed.’ Her face softened, but her crossed arms remained a barrier between them. ‘Remember that all work and no play makes Col a dull boy.’
‘I don’t have time to play these days.’
‘But you have time to visit old acquaintances?’ She leant against the pink couch that dominated the waiting room. It took all of his will power not to drink in the sight of her slender legs encased in pink ballet tights and knee-high black leg warmers. She looked like a fantasy.
‘I’d like to think we were more than acquaintances, Ellie.’ Friends, best friends perhaps. Lovers?
She shrugged and tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear, waiting for him to speak. She used her silence to force him to continue the conversation—it was a trick he’d taught her once...back when she didn’t consider him a mere acquaintance.
‘Actually, I’m here with a proposal.’
Her brows rose. ‘Don’t tell me America ran out of socialites for you to sleep with.’
‘Jealous much?’ He enjoyed the flare of pink across her nose and cheeks.
‘Only that you’re here bothering me and not them.’ She tried to look bored but her muscles were tense, her body on high alert.
‘It’s come to my attention that your ballet studio is going through some difficult financial times.’ He cleared this throat, his hands automatically tugging on the cuffs of his shirt. ‘And I have a solution that I feel would be mutually beneficial.’
‘Mutually beneficial?’
‘Yes.’ He gave a sharp nod. ‘I’d like to hire you.’
She blanched. ‘You want ballet lessons?’
‘Hell no!’ A hearty laugh started all the way down in his stomach and burst forth with a soul-relieving boom. It felt good, and God knew he needed something to laugh about at the moment.
‘No need to be ashamed—male ballet dancers can still be masculine,’ she said, tilting her head to one side, studying him. ‘Or are you afraid you’ll need to pad out your tights?’
‘You know damn well I don’t need any padding down there.’
Her eyes flickered over him, as though they wanted to slide down the length of him but she was forcing her attention elsewhere.
‘I don’t want ballet lessons.’ He shook his head, wondering why on earth a grown man would want to learn ballet. ‘But I do want the advice of someone who’s been a performer her whole life.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It’s a long story but I’ve got something really important coming up and I need your expertise.’ He turned a charming grin on her, hoping to hell it had the right effect. Back in the day his smile had won her over on more than one occasion. ‘In return, I’ll make all your financial woes go away.’
She pushed up from the couch and strode towards him, closing the gap between them. Charged and dangerous. Though he had a head and a half on her she held herself with the grace of a queen. She approached him, lips ready for battle, hands balled into fists by her sides.
* * *
Had he really breezed in here, after five years of silence, wanting her help and offering to be some kind of knight in shining armour? Impossible. No one was that cocky. Perhaps all those winters in New York had frozen his brain cells beyond repair. Still, Elise couldn’t take her eyes off him...she never could. Col Hillam was like a drug; a very fun, stupid, dangerous drug.
He’d filled out since the last time she saw him when he’d still be wearing his lanky frame like an awkward uniform. Now broad shoulders stretched out beneath the white cotton of his shirt creating a neat V to the waist of his jeans. A dark smattering of hair peeked at her when he played with the cuffs of his shirt, rolling them up his muscled forearms. She stopped herself from lingering there for too long.
He was far from the quiet young man she remembered. Despite his flippant tone, the hard set of his sculpted lips and wary blue gaze spelled trouble. He was here with a goal in mind, and she’d be hard pressed to get around him.
‘Why should I help you?’
‘Because you’ve got a kind heart and a strong sense of charity?’ There was that grin again. Cocky—clearly becoming CEO had helped him grow accustomed to getting his own way.
‘Why me?’ she asked.
‘Because you’re the only one who knows me well enough.’ He raked a hand through his dark hair, fingers thrusting through the strands in a single, swift gesture.
Each movement radiated sexual energy and masculinity. It was no wonder the single shot of him in an intimate clinch with a certain technology heiress had been flashed all over the media...not that she’d been keeping tabs.
‘I’m worried for you, if that’s true.’ She couldn’t help it—some little part of her wanted to hurt him. To pay him back for those years she spent dealing with her problems confused and alone.
Her life had fallen apart when he left as if his departure had caused an irreversible ripple of tragic events. Sure, he might not have had direct influence but it had all started with him. It had been easy to blame him when he was on the other side of the world, but now he was mere inches from her and she was struggling to stay in control.
‘Ouch.’ A scowl flickered across his face, but he wouldn’t be so easy to tear down. ‘The lady has a sharp tongue.’
‘The lady also has a good bullshit detector.’ She tilted her head up at him and narrowed her eyes. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me.’
She sucked in a breath. Verbal sparring was like foreplay for the mind as far as Col was concerned. He didn’t need to touch her; he only needed to pour his words over her like warm honey. She squared her shoulders. She’d promised herself she would never
