‘You haven’t!’
He took a step closer and gave her a serious look. ‘Don’t you do your homework on the people you interview? I’ve said a number of times that I worked in the summers as a teenager with my Uncle Vinnie—the best handyman in the world.’ He waved the piece of metal smeared with plaster. ‘There are a number of jobs I can do around here in the next few weeks. Plastering was one of the things I was best at. I can repair the cracks and skim the walls in all the rooms. It will be a good foundation for any other decorating your sister has planned.’ He waved his other hand. ‘And the conservatory. I can replace the broken glass. Another of my specialities.’
Portia couldn’t speak. She was astonished. She didn’t like to be caught unawares. There were probably a million women the world over that would currently love to be in her position. A half-dressed Javier Russo offering to work as handyman. She blinked and put her fingers at the edge of her hip and gave herself a sharp pinch.
Yep. She was definitely here. She was definitely awake.
He’d just criticised her. He’d implied she wasn’t good at her job. He’d implied she didn’t do her homework. Oh, this guy was clearly going to drive her crazy. Half naked or not.
And she hated to admit it right now, but she didn’t know that much background on Javier Russo. Annoyance swept through her. She wasn’t going to let him get the better of her. There was a story here. She could practically smell it in the air between them.
She licked her lips. Her intention had been to throw him out today. But the thought of a story was making her reconsider. Maybe she wouldn’t mention anything today at all.
She glanced downwards and realised she was standing in her pale blue wrap robe and slippers, her hair tied in a tangled knot on her head. Not entirely appropriate. She’d been so focused on what the noise was she hadn’t really thought about her appearance.
She sucked in a deep breath and tried to take a reality check on what was happening. She knew exactly how to play this. She laughed out loud and held up one hand, putting the other on her hip.
Javier looked amused. Perfect. ‘What is it?’
She kept laughing. ‘Well, I’m just thinking, whatever that wine was that I drank last night—and I only had two glasses—I think I better hunt down the rest of it.’
Javier lifted his hand from the wall. ‘Why?’
She clicked her fingers. ‘Well, look what’s happened. I drink two glasses of wine, Javier Russo, world-famous movie star—and I think I remember you were last year’s Most Eligible Bachelor—has turned up half naked in my sister’s dilapidated old villa, offering to be my handyman for the next few weeks. This isn’t real. There’s no way this is real.’
He nodded slowly, contemplating her words. Javier had that tiny little gleam in his eye. It was famous. Often caught in pictures and on camera in films. It made him look as if he were talking to only you, sharing a joke only with you.
And right now, he was talking only to her. There was a real possibility of story here.
‘What will it take to convince you?’
Her breathing stopped. Second time Javier Russo had caught her unawares. What did that mean? Her mouth couldn’t find the next set of words.
For the tiniest second the thought of a story vanished. Instead, in its place, was the muscular body and grey eyes of Javier Russo. All man, right in front of her.
It was almost as if he read her mind. He put the metal square on the floor next to the trowels and stepped closer. So close that his hand rested on her hip. Yes, it did. It really did.
If this were a film she would have spent around three hours in make-up achieving the ‘natural’ look. Unfortunately, her natural look was entirely natural. Her face scrubbed last night and a bit of her usual moisturiser smeared on her face. She always tied her hair up when she went to bed and it generally managed to tangle its way into an unruly mess.
He’d got close last night. But she’d gone from being a little foggy with the wine, to thinking there was an intruder, assaulting a movie star, then finding herself making up a bed for him.
No one would believe that interview.
All of a sudden she was closer than she’d ever expected to be with a movie star. Up close and personal. She could see every tiny line around his eyes. Laughter lines. No Botox. Every strand of his dark hair. The stubble on his jaw line. Her palm wanted to reach up and feel it. His white straight teeth and something hidden behind his grey eyes.
That was what stopped her in her tracks.
She recognised the signs. Hurt. Now she’d glimpsed it she could see it as clear as day.
He still hadn’t told her why he was here. He hadn’t answered many questions last night at all. Had he been dating? Was he here to mend his heart? Somehow, it didn’t really seem to fit the bill.
Hurt. It confused her. What could hurt Mr Arrogant? The part of her conscience that had invaded her thoughts this morning crowded forward again.
She lifted both her hands and placed them on his bare chest. The heat against her palms sent tingles up her arms. It was completely forward. But it didn’t feel that way. It felt natural. Honest. Her voice was barely a whisper. ‘Javier, what are you running from?’
Beneath her palms his chest rose as he sucked in a breath. Silence. The TV host in her ached to fill it. More than three seconds of silence in front of the camera usually meant that something had gone wrong.
But her senses kicked in. The senses that were still functioning while she had her hands on the chest of a film star.
He licked his lips and she stifled her groan. He was looking at her, but it didn’t feel as if he were really seeing her. He was thinking about something else.
She watched as the virtual shields came down behind his eyes. The tiny part of Javier Russo she’d been about to see instantly hidden again. ‘I’ve been busy. Four films in eighteen months and a whole range of press junkets for this year’s new releases. I just needed a bit of time out.’
She bit her bottom lip. It was plausible. But it wasn’t the truth.
‘You have enough money at your disposal to go to a hundred private islands. You’d have as much peace and quiet as you want. Plus, you’d actually have a place with a functioning kitchen and bathrooms.’
He gave the hint of a smile and shook his head. ‘But it wouldn’t be the same.’
Something had changed behind his eyes. Now, he was being honest.
‘What do you mean?’
He glanced down at her hands and her fingers jerked self-consciously. She should really move them. And she would. Just not yet.
He held up his arms. ‘I mean, this is the place I remember. Once I got here as a kid, Sofia always filled it with happy memories. And I’ve never been a lie-on-the-beach kind of guy. I like to be doing something. I like to be industrious. It relaxes me. Helps me sort out things in my head. This place is my idea of a holiday. I just wish I’d thought of it a couple of years
