this your definition of getting on well?”
“We’re both still standing.” Ethan cocked his head to the side, his expression intense. She could feel his gaze, almost like a physical touch as he looked at her body. Her breasts. She was certain he was looking there because she could feel it. “For now.” The air in the room seemed to thicken, a strange electric feeling arching between them as he took a step towards her. Only one step. No more. And she had the feeling that if there was going to be anything more, she would have to make the next move.
Her feet seemed to be rooted to the spot.
“I guess we’ll get to know each other in Australia,” she said. “Although I think it’s kind of a raw deal, you hiring me and then making me ask my boss for vacation time.”
“I’ll keep you busy,” he said, his voice rough. “And yeah, we may get to know each other a little better.”
“We won’t actually be staying with my grandparents.” Ethan turned to look at her as he navigated the busy Brisbane expressway and took an exit that led off into one of the suburbs.
She could swear that Ethan’s accent had thickened the moment they’d landed in his home country. And she liked it. A little bit more than she should. But it was fascinating, being alone with a man like this. It was something she’d never really experienced before. Well, discounting her piano instructor.
“Where will we be staying?”
“One of my hotels. On the beach. I think you’ll like it.”
“How long have you owned it?”
“It’s been there for years, but I bought it and had some renovation done on it about six years back.”
“I’ve been here before,” she said, looking out the window at the passing scenery. “I didn’t get to see anything. Just the roadway from the airport to the hotel, to the theater, then back to the airport. We went to Sydney after. I didn’t get to see much of it either.”
“You never went sightseeing when you traveled?”
She bit her lip. “When we were in Europe we did a bit of it, as part of my schooling. I had a good tutor. He made sure I finished my studies early. I graduated at fifteen, so I was able to practice my music more.”
“Have you ever concentrated on anything but your music?”
“I’ve just been concentrating on breathing this past year,” she said, watching the deep green eucalyptus trees blur together into a continuous smear of color. “And before that, just breathing and playing. I want to do more than that now.”
“Data entry?”
She shot him her deadliest glare, which, she knew, wasn’t very deadly. She’d been told she looked like a Kewpie doll more than once. Not very threatening. “Something more than that maybe even. But it’s a good start.”
The car pulled up to a massive, wrought-iron gate and Ethan leaned out the car window and punched in a series of numbers. “Gated community,” he said. “Nothing but the best, you know.”
“I think it’s nice.” The car wound up a long, winding hill and she knew that Ethan’s grandparents’ house was certain to have billion-dollar views.
“It’s a bit pretentious, actually, but don’t tell my grandmother I said that.”
“I wouldn’t.”
He turned to her, sliding his hand across the expanse of seat between them. He laced his fingers through hers, his thumb drifting over the back of her hand. She felt goosebumps raise up on her arms. He hadn’t touched her for a long time. Only a few days, actually, and yet … it felt like a really long time.
“I’m going to introduce you to my grandparents and get the family ring from my grandfather after dinner, let him know my intentions and all that.”
Her heart slammed against her breast. She nodded, trying to pretend she was unaffected.
“And then I’ll give it to you after we leave. We’ll have to come up with a nice story for my grandmother because she’ll want all the gory details. Women always do.”
“Yes. True.” Her stomach tightened, a sick feeling spreading through her. “I … I don’t know how I feel using your family heirloom ring when it’s … when we’re lying.”
“So? I’ll return the ring when our marriage fails. What difference does it make?”
“None, I guess.” Except it kind of did. “Why didn’t your mother end up with the ring?”
“It wasn’t new. She doesn’t really like antiques.” The corner of his mouth curved up slightly. “She likes really modern stuff. Spot-on trend. And my grandmother never would have let her put it into a new setting.”
“Family traditions shouldn’t be broken. I mean, I don’t think. We didn’t really have any.”
It was no use feeling wistful about it. She’d spent so long just wishing things were different. From the moment she’d realized her life wasn’t like other girls’, she’d wanted something else. More. A connection with her mother that wasn’t based on her career.
But that hadn’t happened. It had always been about Noelle’s career for her mother. About what she could do, what she could get thanks to Noelle’s talents. Noelle accepted it now, more or less. Anyway, the charming revelations Ethan had uncovered about her mother made her realize Celine wasn’t the kind of woman she wanted a relationship with anyway.
No, she wasn’t going to waste time being pouty about what she had and what she didn’t have. Not anymore. She was going to take the money, and she was going to get on with her life. She would take her new office skills, or her rediscovered favor with the media, and she would make something of herself, and manage her own money. Without her teacher. Without her mother. Without Ethan.
She was done being played like a puppet. She was in charge now.
“Mine have more to do with status than sentimentality. My mother is new money, you see, so she doesn’t understand how special it is to have things that have been passed down. Or so I’ve heard,” he said, his words cut short as they passed through another gate and onto the grounds of an opulent estate with lush, manicured grounds and three fountains stationed right out front, seemingly for the sole purpose of trumpeting that the people who owned the house had money. Bags of it.
Ethan pulled the car through and parked it in the drive. “My grandparents have valet service,” he explained dryly.
He got out and rounded to her side, opening the door for her. “Full service,” she replied, standing to find herself just about breast to chest with him.
“I’m a full-service kind of guy,” he said, his eyes seeming darker, his voice rougher. She wished she knew what he was thinking whenever that happened. Why it seemed like one part attraction, one part anger, and complete confusion.
Her fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and put her hand to his stubbled cheek, to find out how rough it would be beneath her palm. She wanted to. Badly. But she wouldn’t. That part wasn’t really confusing. But it was
