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She glanced down at his hand and he half expected her to pull away, not rest her own hand over his. “It’s all right, Xander. You were busy, anyway, so it wouldn’t have worked out.”
“We were performing early in the evening, but the rest of the night we were free.”
“You had a date.”
The flat words sounded like jealousy and he dug back to try and remember who he’d been with. “Was it Ebony Macrae? She was performing with her band later in the evening. We all got together afterwards for an Aussie reunion.”
“Do you see a lot of her?”
Definitely jealousy under the disinterested tones. Warmth flooded his chest. “Not often. She’s on a different circuit. Like Zac. Country and rock and roll don’t often share the same venues. New Years is one exception. We all get together if we’re in the same place at the same time, but it’s a group thing.”
“Do you see Zac?”
“Not really. Saw him at the ARIA’s in Sydney a couple of times, but not to speak to.” He could see she was itching to ask why Ebony and not Zac. “It’s simple. I know Ebs from school, but Zac was older and I was never part of his circle.”
“Simple, huh?” Her fingers tightened on his. “I’ll let you get away with it this time.”
Chapter Ten
Maybe it wasso simple. Bonnie hadn’t known Ebony at school except at a distance. She’d lived in a neighbouring village and only came to the Crossing for high school.
She blinked away the image of the sexy leather-clad rock star when Xander spoke. She tried to focus, but the meaning didn’t penetrate. “I’m sorry, Xander. I missed what you said.”
He flashed a grin at her. “Off with the pixies?”
“I was trying to remember if I’d ever met her.”
“Seriously, Bonnie, she’s not interested in me and I’m not interested in her. The same with all the other people I stand next to at events and they put photographs on the net with all the craziest speculation.”
“It seems weird to me that you have access to all these famous women, and no one knows if you’re hooking up with them. Do you pay the paparazzi to keep away from you when you get serious about someone?”
“I don’t get serious about anyone. You know that. It’s what you’re always complaining about.”
“Always? I haven’t seen you for years.”
She poked her tongue at him and his eyes smouldered. Maybe it wasn’t wise to prod the tiger. His navy shorts clung like a second skin, revealing he was not unaffected by the intimacy of their situation.
“It seems to me, the person here who doesn’t want to get serious is you.” His fingers walked up her leg, raising goosebumps on the sensitive skin. “Or is it about your independence?”
“I’ve always had to rely on myself. Even when Nan was alive. She expected me to take responsibility for my life. I’m not giving up any of that unless I’m sure the person I’m with can be relied on.”
His fingers paused in their slow perambulation along her inner thigh. “You want someone you can rely on?”
“Not exactly. I want someone who’s reliable. Not for me to lean on. I don’t need a prop; I need a partner.”
“What’s your idea of reliable? Someone with money? Someone who hangs around and doesn’t leave?”
His fingers were moving again, drawing spirals, bringing him closer and closer to the crotch of her cotton undies. His right hand with the slightly longer nails for fingerpicking on the guitar. An almost ticklish scrape against her skin, different to the pads of his fingers or the callouses on his other hand. She huffed out a breath, clenching the softening interior muscles. She could resist him. Must resist him.
“Do you mind me touching you?”
The sudden redirection startled her. She could lie and say yes. Or no. Either way it would be a lie. “I like it, but we probably shouldn’t.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Bonnie.” A slight curl at the corner of his mouth intrigued her, but she stayed silent. “I love the feel of you. You have lovely smooth skin.”
An interesting admission from someone who freely acknowledged not being the touchy-feely type. “I don’t mind. I like it.”
“Do you like me?”
