The Price of Fame Read online

  Chameleon Twilight had followed a couple of years later. Chameleon Council, the final in the trilogy, was almost finished. He needed a break to revitalise his creativity, but online gamers were clamouring for more of the Onyx One’s adventures. So … Leaning back, he tapped his fingers on the edge of his desk … Bring in an unexpected new love interest for the Onyx to keep the female players on board …?

  From his upstairs office window, his gaze drifted to the exclusive club bures. Maybe his last-minute heroine would be a woman with a quirky penchant for personalised accessories … with a mysterious past …

  After checking in to the resort, dinner in her room and an early night, Charlotte spent the first day lazing by her pool and catching up on a novel she’d been meaning to read for ever. She also enjoyed the warm tropical air on her winter-pale skin, the wide blue Pacific view from her balcony, the friendly room service.

  It was because she needed some alone time—not because she didn’t want to bump into Nic.

  In fact, she didn’t think of Nic at all. And she did not look at that fifty-dollar note burning a hole at the bottom of her bag. It was illegal to deface money, wasn’t it? She ought to report him.

  He was reminding her that he was here somewhere. Available. A phone call away.

  On the second morning she threw back the sheets at six a.m. She would not allow him to dictate what she could and could not do on her first precious vacation in more than two years. Why should she feel like a prisoner in such a luxurious resort with the balmy breeze tickling her skin and beckoning her outside for an early morning walk?

  So after a quick breakfast in her room, she pulled on a pair of skinny white pants and a shell-pink T-shirt. She piled her pad and pencils and a bottle of water in her holdall, plonked her sunhat on her head and ventured out.

  She breathed in the salty beach smell. Breakfast aromas from the open-air restaurant. Freedom and relaxation.

  The thick, scented air stroked her skin as she set off past the bures and along tidy curved paths flanked with Fijian Fire Plants and their brilliant red and gold and chartreuse leaves.

  She passed the early risers heading towards the pools and other water activities. She could hear the distant splashes and laughter over the soft murmur of the sea. It sounded like fun.

  But, for today at least, she wanted alone time with no distractions. She headed for a clump of scraggy casuarinas and Screw Pines not far away.

  Three weeks ago she’d sold her parents’ winery where she’d always worked. It had been a close-knit family business and she’d managed the office. The new owners had invited her to stay on but she didn’t want to work with strangers who might want to change the way her family had operated the business for generations.

  She didn’t need paid employment—she had her inheritance—but she had to do something. The charities she and her mum had put so many hours into weren’t enough of a challenge or distraction.

  Until she came up with that elusive something, she’d continue with her lingerie designs, which she’d played with over the past few years. Only a hobby, but she loved the whole process—the designing, the construction and, most of all, the wearing of them.

  Underneath her plain outerwear, she could indulge her secret passion for sexy and be that sensual woman she wanted to be. The way Nic had made her feel for those few special hours …

  Get that thought out of your head.

  As she approached the pines she saw colourful bougainvillea trailing over a high cream wall. She noticed a wide break in the foliage and walked through. A bright umbrella provided shade for the wooden table and chairs. There were a couple of recliner chairs covered with striped matting for those who wanted to sunbathe, but it seemed the guests were more interested in the water because there wasn’t a soul around. Perfect.

  She opened her sketch pad and spread it on the table, pulled out her pencils and let her hand wander over the paper, experimenting.

  The Pacific Islands. Vivid colours and bold designs. Sexy playful styles that spoke of fun and summer. But with her libido still so highly charged, she could still feel the sparks and her ideas soon turned to more erotic designs. Crotchless knickers. Hmm. They’d have come in handy the other night …

  Her hand moved quicker over the paper as ideas formed. She’d just finished designing an idea for a bra with a star-burst radiating from a peek-a-boo cut-out in the centre of the cups when she heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching.

  ‘Hey, there. You.’ The deep male voice shattered the peace like a volley of gun shots. Stern, annoyed. And familiar. She jerked her hat lower, pushed her sunglasses further up her nose and peeked beneath the brim.

  Nic was striding towards her in a pair of short white shorts. The rest of him was naked, showing off his well-defined abs and a washboard stomach glistening in the sun. He’d been swimming or working out. More like swimming by the way his shorts clung to his thighs. Her breath caught and her pulse did a crazy happy dance.

  She ordered it to stop. ‘Are you stalking me? Bec—’

  ‘Stalking you?’ he snapped out. ‘You’re on private property.’ He came to an abrupt halt a few metres away, squinting and shielding his eyes against the sun’s early morning rays. ‘Charlotte?’

  Spreading her trembling hands over her sketches to hide them, she managed to flip the cover down and stood up to minimise the difference in height. ‘I—’

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘It’s a free resort,’ she said, lifting her chin. ‘And what do you mean private property?’ A not-so-funny feeling slid through her stomach … He’d not checked in to the resort with her … ‘I had no idea this part was private property. What are you—?’

  ‘The sign on the gate gave you no clue?’

  ‘What gate?’ She looked back to where she’d come from. ‘Oh. That gate.’ That big double gate with ‘Private Property, No Guests’ on it in big black letters. She swung to face him. ‘If you leave it open so wide that no one knows it’s there, one can’t be blamed for not seeing it.’

  He exhaled sharply and muttered, ‘The furniture movers must have left it open.’

  Mind brimming with questions, she stared at him, then at the surroundings. Her eyes flicked over his shoulder and now she noticed glimpses of a thatched structure—probably a pool shade—through the heavy bushes. ‘You live here?’

  He moved a step closer, his gaze curious and drawn to her sketch pad. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Snatching her pad off the table, she slapped it against her chest. ‘Just sketching. The flowers. Leaves. Shapes. Nothing really.’

  ‘How do I know?’ His dark eyes captured hers. ‘It could be you stalking me. I don’t know you, after all, do I, Charlotte? How do I know you’re not here to—?’

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Nic Russo. And I live here.’ He gestured with his chin. ‘Show me what you’re working on.’

  Sketches of scantily clad female anatomy? ‘No. It’s private.’

  One brow lifted. ‘So is this garden.’

  ‘And it’s beautiful.’ She said the first thing that came into her spinning head. ‘Stunning. And I love those masks on the wall …’

  ‘So are you—beautiful and stunning.’ His voice slid over her senses like honey. ‘Are you wearing a mask too, Charlotte? Hiding who you really are?’ He resumed walking towards her. Predatory male with his prey cornered.

  She slid one foot ever-so-slightly backwards, mentally calculating the direction of the gate behind her. Trying to figure how long it would take to get there if she ran very fast. ‘No. I’m a private person, that’s all.’

  ‘So am I when it comes to guarding what’s mine. Maybe that reporter was onto something,’ he continued slowly, as if enjoying himself. But she couldn’t be sure. ‘Maybe you’re an undercover spy. Out to steal my next project.’

  ‘Spy?’ she sputtered, incredulous, but, for heaven’s sake, now he looked serious. ‘Steal?’ She took another step back. �
�Are you living in some alternate reality or just plain crazy?’ She shook her head, kept walking backwards. ‘I refuse to have this ridiculous conversation.’

  He followed, quickly gaining on her. ‘Alternate reality. Interesting you should say that. A coincidence?’ He was so close now she could see his long black eyelashes. Every pinprick of dark stubble. The almost smile tucked away at the corner of his mouth. Maybe.

  But maybe not.

  ‘I apologise for trespassing,’ she went on, ‘but I’d appreciate a straight answer before I leave.’

  ‘And if I give you that answer, will you let me see what you’re working on?’

  She tightened her grip on her work. ‘No.’

  He spread his hands. Resigned? Somehow she didn’t think so. She tapped her finger against the pad. ‘Straight answer, please.’

  ‘I write computer programs. Very lucrative computer programs.’

  ‘Oh …’ She’d figured he was more of an outdoors job kind of guy. ‘Like accounting software, that kind of stuff?’

  ‘Not quite.’ He sounded amused. ‘Do I look like an accountant?’

  She grinned, amused right back despite herself. ‘Not quite.’

  ‘I build alternative worlds and create characters to live there. It’s interactive. Anyone can visit so long as they pay and log in online. But some people think it’s okay to steal work that’s taken another person years of blood, sweat and tears to write.’ There was a cold, implacable calm of personal experience behind the brown gaze.

  ‘Okay. I understand. I’m sorry, I just saw the garden and no one was around …’

  ‘Or maybe you couldn’t stay away.’ His voice deepened, his eyes changed. Tempted. ‘You asked about me around the resort and came to tell me you wanted to continue what we started for a few more days.’

  ‘No … Nic … I …’ need to think. Except she couldn’t remember what about when he was looking at her that way. He closed the gap between them. She could smell the sharpness of salt water on his hot masculine skin. ‘No …’

  The breeze had strengthened and his hair blew around his face as he said, ‘You could clear everything up if you prove you’re actually working on something here and not just lurking.’

  ‘I wasn’t lurking, I was—’

  ‘Hoping desperately that I’d come out and find you,’ he murmured silkily. She heard his words but it was their smooth, deep cadence that captured her. She remembered how it had sounded when he’d laid her down on the bed and told her what he was going to do to her, and how.

  He took her hat off, tossed it on the table. His hands moulded firmly around her shoulders and he pulled her closer, his lips a warm whisper away from hers. She swayed towards them, couldn’t wait to feel them on hers. When he pulled the pad out of her loosening grasp and laid it on the table beside her, she didn’t attempt to stop him.

  ‘Because if I found you,’ he continued, ‘you’d not be giving in first.’ He tightened his hold, eyes dancing. ‘And that’s okay. I don’t mind letting you win. This time.’

  Before she could object to that—did she even care?—his mouth swooped on hers. Smoothly, expertly, confident that she couldn’t resist.

  Instant addiction. She felt herself being swept up in the tastes and sensations as a stiff breeze swept across her sweat-damp skin and rustled the palm fronds. Unable to stop herself, she slid her hands upwards over sun-warmed skin exploring all the different textures while his mouth worked magic on hers.

  But if he was just proving a point and he’d meant it to be light and easy, the emotions rushing through her were anything but. Distant alarm bells rang a warning. She wasn’t ready for these feelings and this thing with Nic would only end badly for her. She’d stop … any moment now …

  The muscles in her legs turned lax, her arms coiled around his neck and she hung on, her toes curling inside her sandals.

  Nic lifted his lips a fraction. ‘I hate to interrupt this, but your work …’

  ‘Work?’ she murmured, craning her neck to recapture his lips.

  He licked her bottom lip with a lazy stroke of his tongue. ‘Whatever you were doing. When I interrupted you. Remember that private thing you didn’t want me to see?’

  She pulled back and swivelled her head to see her precious designs scattering like giant butterflies across the garden. ‘Oh, no!’ Yanking out of his arms, she stumbled across the lawn and into bushes, grabbing what she could. ‘I’ve got them,’ she yelled in case he followed. ‘Do not look …’

  But when she turned around with the crumpled pages in her hands, he was regarding her with telling interest. He didn’t say a word but a smile played around his lips.

  ‘I’m leaving now,’ she told him, her face burning. Stuffing her papers and everything she could lay her hands on into her holdall, she grabbed her hat and backed towards the gate. ‘Stay away from me. I mean it,’ she said through clenched teeth when he only kept smiling that know-all smile. ‘You’re bad for me.’

  She turned and fled, knowing he was watching. Bad for her peace of mind. Bad for her will power. Bad distraction.

  Bad, bad, bad.

  Still grinning, Nic watched her go. He waited until she’d disappeared past the gate, then retrieved a loose sheet that had snagged under the table. He couldn’t not look, now, could he? Smoothing out the page, he stared at the erotic image.

  Flowers, hmm? His grin broadened. But he looked closer. This was a skilled artist’s work. She’d added notes on the construction, fabric details, colour combinations.

  And his initial response to finding her in his garden had been to shoot first, ask questions later. Good God, he’d all but accused her of espionage. He hoped his quick manoeuvre to kiss her instead had distracted her thoughts elsewhere.

  It sure as hell had distracted him.

  He folded the paper in half. The perfect excuse to see her again. Not that he needed one. He closed and secured the gates, his thoughts filled with his unexpected visitor. Naturally she’d want her design back. It was only right that he returned it. Tonight was soon enough.

  He went straight to his computer, sat down and studied the screens alive with characters going about their quests in their fantasy world. Tapping the mouse, he got back to work. He had a full day’s adventures to finish before he could turn his thoughts to other pursuits.

  Closing her door safely behind her, Charlotte shut her eyes. Images danced behind her eyelids. Images of losing control. Hoping desperately that I’d come out and find you, he’d said. Huh. Like he’d know. Except he did. And she couldn’t fool herself—desperate was exactly how she felt, which was why she’d told him to stay away. The only sensible thing she’d said to him. And the bit about him being bad for her.

  Because she knew his type—he could charm the knickers off a nun with a single tilt of those lips—and that wasn’t the type of man she wanted to get involved with. Nic was a great—perfect—one-night kind of guy, but that kind wasn’t the sort of man she wanted to share other things with. Like confidences and dreams and hopes and interests. Like building a life and a home together. Like sharing his family to help compensate for the loss of hers.

  Nic was so not that man.

  Crossing the room to gaze over the rooftops, she picked out his palatial two-storey home amongst the trees. ‘Oh, Dad, what would you say about me?’ After her behaviour, she was hardly his princess any more. Her fingers touched the pearls at her neck. Mum would be appalled.

  Nic Russo … Turning away from the view, she opened her notebook PC and switched it on. Thirty seconds later she was looking up the name and checking the social-networking sites. But the Nic Russos she found on the Internet didn’t match anyone who created computer games and obviously made millions doing so. Not even a Dominic Russo turned up anything.

  Her fingers clenched over the keyboard. As soon as she’d calmed down, when her mind was less cluttered and she’d thought things through, she’d find Nic Russo or whoever the heck he was and demand more answers.

&n
bsp; If he didn’t find her first.

  CHAPTER SIX

  AT FIVE-THIRTY Nic showered and went downstairs, Charlotte’s paper in his shirt pocket. Tenika had ironed him a Fijian shirt—crimson with a white hibiscus print—and laid it on his bed along with a fresh white hibiscus. He knew she expected to see him wearing both.

  She was in the kitchen washing the vegetables he’d seen her pick earlier from his window. These days her wiry close-cropped hair was tinged with silver. The patterned hot-pink blouse over her black sulu complemented her dusky complexion; her hands were busy pulling leaves off stems.

  He reached for a banana. ‘How’s your day been?’

  She turned from the sink and smiled, teeth white against her skin. ‘Bula, Nic, you want kakana already? Eat vegetables today from the garden with fresh fish.’

  ‘Vinaka, but don’t cook anything for me this evening.’

  ‘Ah, you have a pretty marama waiting for you.’ She looked him up and down and nodded approvingly. ‘Totoka. Very handsome. She is lucky. A guest at the resort, Malakai told me.’ Her eyes danced with matchmaking delight.

  Nic had to smile. The pair of them never gave up no matter how often he told them he was more than happy with his bachelor status. ‘Malakai’s jumping to conclusions.’

  She shook her head, put the leaves in a colander and turned on the tap. ‘He doesn’t jump—he is too old. He said you and the pretty marama were talking in the car yesterday. Very close.’

  ‘Charlotte was on the same flight. I have something I need to return to her.’

  Tenika made a pfft sound and sloshed water about in the sink. ‘You like her—Charlotte. You want Malakai to bring the car around?’

  ‘We’re not leaving the resort. We’re just going to watch the Meke then maybe have a meal.’

  ‘You bring her here tomorrow so I can meet her and see for myself if she is good enough for you. I can cook good kakana for you and her.’