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She stared out the window and tried to distract herself. Think of work, the footage she wanted to show him, the ideas she had for their video shoot. Think of anything but how she craved his nearness, wanted to own his lazy smile, and get lost in the deep green forest of his eyes.
She lasted twenty-two minutes, the longest twenty-two minutes she could remember, before she ran her palm over the rise of his instep, his ankle, up his shin to his knee. He was awake and making little growling noises in the back of his throat before her hand made it to his thigh.
He stretched, arching his back, bringing his arms down to scoop her against him. “Where have you been?” he murmured, eyes still half lidded, voice low and croaky. “Why’d you let me sleep?”
She braced her towelling covered elbows on his chest. “You needed to.”
He sucked in a breath, eyes properly open now, his body twitching slightly under her. “Shit, I didn’t just crash out on you did I?”
Harry smiled. He had, dropping beside her, rolling her into his arms, asleep in seconds, the energy totally drained from his limbs. But it hadn’t mattered in the slightest, because he’d crashed her into pure bliss first.
His brows came together and his lips flatlined. “I’m really sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. It wasn’t like I could take anymore, you ah, you—” she flushed, “—made me very happy.”
He exhaled. The corners of his lips lifted. “Oh yeah, it’s all coming back to me now.” He pushed the robe off her shoulders, running his hands down her back, splaying his fingers over her hips. “Still, I think we might need more rehearsals to make sure we’re—” he grinned broadly, jerked her hips down against this, “—hitting the right notes.”
If rehearsing meant spending more time being ravished by Rand, and delighting him in return, Harry was all for a rigorous, highly disciplined schedule of practice. “How much rehearsing do you think we need?” she asked, sliding her knees open.
He said, “It’s a fine art,” tensing against her weight. “Too much rehearsing and you can lose all the spontaneity, all the surprise.” He snatched both Harry’s hands and pinned them hard to his side. She gasped and bit her bottom lip. “Not enough practice and I get scared.”
“You scared? What do you get scared of?”
He spoke softly against her lips, “Women like you.”
“Like me?”
“Yeah, clever, beautiful…” The thought dissolved as he flicked his tongue over her lips.
He was humming, some pop tune. She might’ve picked it but he was also nibbling her earlobe. He found her mouth for the softest of kisses and she moved against him to let him know he had nothing to be scared about.
27. Quick Sand
Sharon didn’t try to hide her laughter when she met the group at the hotel. Jake made eye contact with her and since he was the only one able to, she cracked up.
“For a bloke who’s terrified of flying you look good, Jake,” she said. “Maybe because everyone else looks so awful.” She counted heads and frowned. “No Rand?”
Jake took the room swipe card she held out. “No, that’s going to be interesting.”
They had three intense days ahead of them before the trucks arrived and Jake wondered how it was all going to play out. Rand was the glue that stuck this whole circus together, he was ring-master to Rielle’s star attraction and he was missing in action. Without him the lions might escape, the bearded lady start electrolysis and the big top catch fire.
“Do we know where he is, boss?”
Jake had a fair idea Rand wasn’t too far from Harry’s arms. “I’m guessing he’ll front up tomorrow,” he grimaced. “I hope.” He knew that left Rielle holding the bag with another media interview program which she hardly seemed well enough to do. She’d taken her room swipe and disappeared from the foyer while the others were still shuffling about.
Over coffee in the hotel cafe, Sharon gave him an update on the itinerary for Melbourne, including the interviews, a TV broadcast appearance and a video shoot, all before the trucks arrived and the set was rebuilt for the first of three shows. Today was the last rest day the band had until Sydney, so apart from dumping on Rielle again, Rand had chosen his moment to play hooky with Harry well.
Jake was about to take a bite out of a blueberry muffin when his phone rang. Rielle. He thought about sending the call to voicemail. He hit the receive button instead.
“Jake, I can’t talk any of these bastards into doing these interviews with me. Can you arrange a security guy to cover me?”
“Are you sure you’re cool to do the interviews?” He was surprised she wasn’t calling to cancel them.
“Self-inflicted wound. No excuse, I’ll be fine.”
He hesitated. He could have security and the tour publicist cover it easily, and it was obviously what Rielle expected but it didn’t feel right. He knew Rand would prefer him to accompany her like last time. “I’ll go with you.” Spending time alone with her wasn’t his idea of a good time. He kept seeing her face, freckled, fresh and natural, fringed with soft blonde hair, not the face she’d ever willingly shown him.
He read the silence that followed as a strong chance of getting off his self-imposed minder’s duty. He was thinking about the other things he needed to get done when she said, “That would be great. Thank you.”
