Kissed By a Stranger. Valerie Parv
said you weren’t busy this morning,’ she hissed.
‘Just remembered an urgent job,’ Kitty said cheerfully, picking up her satchel. ‘See you two later. Have fun.’
Have fun, indeed. A panicky sensation gripped Sarah as Luke slid into Kitty’s vacant chair and signalled the waiter to bring more coffee. He ordered his long and black, she noticed, with the odd awareness she seemed to be developing about him. Small things, such as the way his dark chest hair curled invitingly around the open neck of his polo shirt, seemed to leap out at her unbidden.
‘You don’t have to keep me company if you have other things you’d rather be doing,’ she offered around the tightness constricting her throat.
‘If I had other things to do, rest assured I’d be doing them,’ he stated. ‘Right now, this has a lot of appeal.’
‘It is a lovely day,’ she agreed, choosing to misunderstand. He was only being polite, she assumed.
His eyes rested on her, their sea-depths compelling in the sparkling Broadbeach sunshine. ‘Beautiful,’ he said, in a deep voice redolent with double meanings. He took a sip of coffee, and the way the steam curled around his sensuously full upper lip hammered through that strange awareness.
‘What are you doing in Broadbeach?’ she asked, finding her tongue at last.
‘I had business in town,’ he said dismissively. ‘Are you fully recovered from the accident?’
She frowned. Was she ever going to get a direct answer from this man? ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she said tautly. ‘The studio wasn’t thrilled about their car, though, and I’m stuck using cabs until they get around to giving me a new one.’ Thinking of the accident reminded her of her amazingly lucky escape. If Luke hadn’t pulled her clear . . .
‘You’re alive, that’s the main thing,’ he said, as if reading her thoughts.
‘Thanks to you. Of all people, you knew the risk of the car exploding, but you didn’t hesitate.’ It was the first time anyone had risked their life for her.
‘Anyone would have done the same,’ he insisted.
‘But they didn’t.’ She gathered her courage in both hands. ‘Why didn’t you want your face seen on television? Was it something to do with why you gave up racing?’
‘Maybe I’ve had enough of celebrity,’ he said, although she felt certain it wasn’t the whole answer. The feeling nagged at her, but he deflected it by asking, ‘Doesn’t it bother you to have people stare at you wherever you go?’
She glanced down at the table. ‘It’s part of the job,’ she said, disliking the defensive note which had crept into her tone.
He gave her a studied look. ‘You enjoy it, don’t you?’
She tossed her hair back, meeting his gaze defiantly. ‘I worked damned hard to get where I am now. Why shouldn’t I enjoy it?’
He drained his cup. ‘You’re right. There’s no reason you shouldn’t enjoy it—for now. But when you find you can’t go anywhere or do anything without attracting attention, and it becomes impossible to tell if your friends like you for yourself or your celebrity, then tell me how enjoyable you find it. I have to go. Nice seeing you again, Sarah.’
A knife-life sensation stabbed through her. He was about to walk out of her life as swiftly as he’d entered it, and every fibre of her being shrieked a protest. Without thinking, she said, ‘Don’t go, please. At least not like this.’
‘Believe me, Sarah, it’s better if I do.’
‘Better for whom—you?’
It was said so bitterly that a flame ignited behind his dark eyes. He raked a hand through his hair and the silver streaks glinted in the sunlight before he smoothed them down again. ‘I’m thinking of you, Sarah, not myself. You’re correct; you do have a right to enjoy your hard-earned fame. My opinion on the subject shouldn’t influence you.’
She managed a shaky laugh. ‘I think we just had our first fight.’
After a moment’s pause, he laughed too. The sound was unexpectedly warm, diffusing some of the tension radiating out of him. ‘It probably means we’re engaged,’ he said.
A strange thrill shot through her, setting thousands of nerve-endings on fire. It took every bit of self-control she possessed to match his jocular tone. ‘Let’s see, we’ve kissed—in the line of duty, of course—we’ve shared coffee, and now we’ve had a minor disagreement. These days that practically constitutes a relationship.’
He regarded her gravely. ‘I can hardly walk out on such a long-standing relationship, can I? Have you had lunch yet?’
She glanced at her watch. It was well past noon. ‘I’ll have to do something about it soon. I’m due at the studio at two.’
‘Your show isn’t on air until tonight,’ he said.
‘But there are promos—promotional commercials—to be recorded, stories to edit and scripts to write,’ she pointed out, adding with a sigh, ‘You aren’t the first person to think that just because the show lasts an hour I work only an hour a day.’
‘I’ve had enough contact with the media not to make that mistake,’ he assured her. ‘But I thought Richard Nero was tonight’s presenter. I gather you take turns.’
It thrilled her much more than it should have to think he kept up to date on her career. It was common enough knowledge, and probably meant nothing, but for some reason the discovery pleased her. ‘Tonight’s show is part of a charity fund-raising telethon, so we’re doing it together for once,’ she explained.
‘You don’t relish the experience?’
She looked away. ‘I can’t stand the man. He wants the job of permanent anchor and will do anything to get it.’
‘And you?’
She felt herself flushing. Surely he didn’t think she was as ruthlessly ambitious as Richard Nero? ‘I want it,’ she admitted frankly. ‘But I’d rather win it on merit than play corporate politics to achieve it.’
‘You don’t think Nero has merit?’
‘Of course he does. But ethics should play a part in getting stories.’
‘Then it’s just as well it was you and not Richard Nero I pulled out of the car,’ Luke observed.
She couldn’t help smiling. ‘Would you have given the kiss of life to Richard so readily?’
His assessing gaze lingered on her face. ‘Let’s say it wouldn’t have been so . . . pleasurable.’ There was a wealth of meaning in the way he said the word. He knew, she thought as warmth pervaded her limbs. He knew exactly his effect on her from the moment his mouth had touched hers.
She felt the blood scorch her face and wished for a concealing layer of television make-up. As it was, she wore almost none when she wasn’t working, so her discomfiture blazed like a beacon for him to see.
‘Sarah?’ he queried softly.
‘I . . . uh . . . let’s have lunch,’ she said, taking refuge behind the café’s menu. For a small beachfront establishment, it boasted an amazingly large menu—for which she was grateful as she hid behind it.
From her hiding place she heard the throaty growl of his laughter. The wretched man was mocking her. She lowered the menu, her eyes flashing fury at him. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘You,’ he said pointedly. ‘The case-hardened TV reporter can still blush. It’s quite a contrast.’
‘I’m not blushing,’ she denied fiercely. ‘It’s the sun. It’s...’
‘The sun,’ he echoed flatly. ‘Not the thought of me holding you, kissing you, breathing