Fearless Maverick (21 page)

 
          
Yes.
Maybe pearls.

 
          
But
then, ‘My gran used to say pearls mean tears.’ Guess that suited too; she’d
shed a few in her life.

 
          
‘In
some religions pearls represent completeness.’

 
          
She
laughed. ‘Is there anything you’re not an expert on?’

 
          
He
leaned forward and his lips skimmed hers. ‘I plan to learn a lot more about
you.’

 
          
His
mouth slanted over hers and any chill in the air seemed to evaporate into
steam. As the temperature beneath the blanket climbed, Libby’s thoughts drifted
back to pearls, the mysteries they seemed to conceal, and how Alex continued to
uncover so many previously depressed levels inside of her.

 
          
She
trembled at the welcome pressure of his hand ironing over her bodice. Then he
was delving beneath the cup, the pad of his thumb rubbing the tight aching peak
and reducing her insides to liquid fire. Leaning in, she measured the broad
expanse of his chest beneath his shirt, marvelling at how something as simple
as feeling the crisp crinkle beneath her palm could bring out such intensely
charged emotions. The invisible zip at the side of her gown came down and her
breasts, and any remaining inhibitions, were freed.

 
          
As
his touch brushed bare skin, remembered sensations from the night before and
this afternoon transformed and condensed into a physical need, pulsing and
burning until she thought she might faint from the hunger.

 
          
When
he broke the kiss and urged her gently away, her nerve-endings were sizzling.
She didn’t want him to stop. She only wanted to feel him naked and bearing
down. But when he lifted her chin, her heavy eyelids dragged open and she
realised with a start where they were. Away from prying eyes but still in a
public place.

 
          
And
she couldn’t care less.

 
          
His
voice was a drugging whisper at the shell of her ear. ‘Your gown will be
crushed.’

 
          
‘Do
you think I care?’

 
          
He
smiled and she tilted her weight against him until he lay back on the pillows,
then she made short work of his trouser fastenings. Over the distant thunder of
waves, she heard the metallic burr of his zipper easing down. Alex’s chest
expanded on a giant breath and, his gaze burning, he tugged off his trousers at
the same time she leaned forward and dropped a lingering kiss an inch above his
navel.

 
          
Her
tongue wove a trail down the arrow of dark hair that led to his thighs and soon
her mouth connected with that part of him that didn’t know the meaning of the
word
reserved
. Circling the top of
his shaft with her hand, she dragged her fingers down, then looped her tongue
around the hot tip twice.

 
          
His
hips arched up and he clutched a sequined pillow near her head. With him
braced, she slid her lips down over the head of his erection at the same time
her fisted hand came back up.

 
          
‘Libby
…’ She heard him swallow. ‘This could get dangerous.’

 
          
She
hummed out her approval and went down again.

 
          
* * *

 
          
After
organising a late checkout from the penthouse, she and Alex spent the remainder
of the day in Surfers.

 
          
Midmorning
they enjoyed an ice cream in famous Cavill Avenue, where great restaurants,
beach umbrellas and micro bikinis ruled. For a bit of fun, they checked out the
Wax Museum, the largest in the southern hemisphere, and marvelled at the
lifelike replicas of so many singers, royal members and notorious villains.
Libby commented in all sincerity it shouldn’t be long before they commissioned
a likeness of him.

 
          
For
lunch, they stopped in for some live music, a couple of thick-cut steaks and
Queensland ales at the Surfers Paradise Tavern, a local icon established back
in 1925 when Surfers was a small isolated town that went by the name of Elston.
When someone started belting out the chorus of a famous Slim Dusty tune, everyone
joined in, including Alex.

 
          
Alex
was certainly a complex character—he could be alpha-annoying, inherently
charming, and there were also times when he seemed so distracted and remote.
But as Alex laughed and clapped and sang along with the crowd now, Libby knew
this was who he wanted to be. Who he
could
be. Relaxed. Real.

 
          
Midafternoon,
the limo collected them and started inland. No matter how much she begged, Alex
wouldn’t let on where they were going. Thirty minutes later they pulled into a
magnificent rural property, with an extravagant ranch-style mansion.

 
          
Slipping
out of the limo, Libby took in the spectacular far-reaching grounds. ‘This is
yours?’

 
          
‘A
friend’s.’

 
          
‘You
want to catch up while we’re here?’

 
          
‘He’s
in Italy.’

 
          
She
frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

 
          
‘Darren’s
an old driving buddy. When he retired, he missed the thrill so much, he built
his own track.’

 
          
Understanding,
she smiled. ‘You’re going to take a car for a spin.’ With her watching.
Frankly, she couldn’t wait to see Alex in action—as long as he, and his
shoulder, didn’t overdo it.

 
          
‘I
am indeed going for a spin.’ He took her hand. ‘And you’re coming with me.’

 
          
Libby’s
heart tripped over several beats. In her own car, she hated to go past 100 k’s.
Surfing had its dangers, certainly, but simply thinking of the kind of speeds
Alex merely cruised at on a track left her mind reeling and stomach
somersaulting.

 
          
She
stammered and stuttered and said she couldn’t possibly but, as usual, Alex
wouldn’t take no for an answer. And when Libby remembered the night before—walking
along the beach, dancing beneath the stars—amazingly she found she could find
the courage for this as well.

 
          
Ten
minutes later they had donned helmets and were buckling up. The track unwinding
before them looked very much like the professional circuits Libby had seen on
cable. As Alex kicked in the engine, she told herself to relax and enjoy the
experience. Didn’t help that her knuckles had turned white, gripping her
thighs.

 
          
‘This
here is one fast car.’

 
          
‘Convertible,’
she added, feeling even more vulnerable with the top down. She moistened dry
lips. ‘Just how fast are we going to go?’

 
          
He
reached for her knee and squeezed. ‘You don’t want to know.’

 
          
Alex
stepped on the pedal—floored it, in fact. The car flew off and Libby left a
screaming laugh behind.

 
          
They
went from naught to three thousand kilometres per hour in three point five
seconds. Or that’s how it felt. With wind blasting through her hair, scared out
of her wits, Libby hung on and told herself she was not only in the hands of a
professional, she was in the care of the best. Everything might be belting by
in a blur. Common sense said if they crashed they would die. Just when she
thought her pulse couldn’t race any faster she saw the sweeping bend up ahead.

 
          
Her
jaw dropping, she swung a horrified look at Alex’s concentrated profile. His
eyes were narrowed, his hands firm on the vibrating wheel, a smile of pure
exhilaration tugged on his lips. He changed down, she held her breath and they
took the turn with his foot still down. All four tyres skidded sideways,
drifting around the arching corner as if they’d hit black ice. Libby let go a
wailing scream.

 
          
Over
the roar of the engine and whistle of the wind, Alex heard Libby’s shriek of
horrified delight and, righting the car, laughed out loud.

 
          
Priceless.

 
          
It
hadn’t hit until this minute but he’d never been in this situation before—in a
car on a track with a woman. Until today, he’d never considered the
possibility. But as he gunned the 650 horsepower engine down the far straight,
he realised this was a first in more than one way.

 
          
Whenever
he hit a track, he was unfailingly focused on bettering himself, achieving his
best, but today wasn’t about career or proving anything. Not in the typical
sense, in any case. He only wanted to have fun or, more correctly, he wanted
Libby
to have fun. From what he could
see of the stretched smile on her face through the hair whipping around her
head, it seemed he’d achieved precisely that.

 
          
By
eight, they were back at Sydney Airport, where the limousine was parked ready
to take them home. But Libby’s mind was still spinning. The night away had been
amazing enough without that unbelievable experience on the track this
afternoon. She thought she had a good grip on who Alex Wolfe was, but she’d
only known half of it. After that wild, hair-raising ride, she’d come to
appreciate in a way she couldn’t have before what got him so jazzed about
racing and why he was fighting tooth and nail to keep on top: to hold onto that
fabulous sense of freedom combined with the ultimate sense of control.

 
          
Alex
waited until they’d pulled up outside her apartment block before he took her
hand and said, ‘Come back to Rose Bay with me.’

 
          
Wanting
to so badly, she closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘That’s not a good idea.’

 
          
‘I
think it’s a great idea.’

 
          
He
leaned closer—his shoulders, his mouth—but she put both hands against his chest
and explained, ‘I need to be up early, and if I go back to your house I won’t
get any sleep.’ They were both running on adrenaline as it was.

 
          
He
seemed to think her excuse through, then reluctantly agreed.

 
          
‘In
that case …’ He reached into the limo’s side door pocket and retrieved a small
pink plastic bag. He looked at it awkwardly as if debating what to do with it.
Then he offered it over.

 
          
‘I
bought you a gift.’

 
          
She
blinked first at him, then at the bag. ‘What is it?’

 
          
‘Open
it and see.’

 
          
With
an uncertain smile, she accepted the bag and slid the contents into her palm.
She sighed at what she saw. A gold clamshell, the size of a dessertspoon, held
a bed full of glittering light blue stones. Dotted amongst those stones sat
three separate creamy beads the size of freshwater pearls. A clasp was linked
to the top of the shell.

 
          
Beside
her, Alex leaned close. ‘I picked it up at one of those tourist stores. The
blue stones symbolise the sea. The pearls represent the past, present and the
future. I thought it suited you.’

 
          
Libby’s
heart beat high in her throat. It was a trinket, an inexpensive charm that he’d
put real thought into, and she
loved
it!

 
          
Over
the thickness in her throat, she murmured, ‘It’s perfect.’ She’d never known
anything
more
perfect.

 
          
He
curled some hair away from her flushed cheek. ‘I’ll walk you up.’

 
          
She
lowered the charm. It had been an incredible couple of days but she couldn’t
think about saying goodnight to Alex at the building entrance or her apartment
door. He might suggest coming in and, the way she felt now—the way she’d felt
all weekend—she wouldn’t be able to turn him away. Tonight she needed to.