Falling for Mr Wrong (3 page)

Tilly Walker.

She sauntered into the lobby. A wave of uncertainty crossed her face reminding him how vulnerable she was.

Their gazes met and an engaging smile tugged at her lips.

His heart skipped a beat as his gaze took in the soft yellow sundress, the light tan of her skin, her slim waist and long legs. Light brown hair curled in damp waves around her shoulders.

Mentally cursing himself for noticing her shapely calves, he pushed away from the pillar and strode towards her. He was here on a job, not for a shag. “Hello,” he said.

“Hi.” Her enchanting smile made his heart thump in double time as though he were a hero in a vintage romance movie. He dismissed the unexpected tightness in his chest as a normal reaction to an attractive woman, especially since he had not dated for months. He could barely remember the last time he’d had sex. When he returned to London, he would have to rectify that. Time to start dating again. But for now, his focus was on Tilly. And not her gentle curves.

“I only have the dress I put on this morning, I hope it’s okay.” She fiddled with the strap on her bag and he caught the slight shake of her hand.
She was nervous?

“It’s fine, I think they only refuse patrons who haven’t yet washed off the mud.”

A tiny laugh escaped from her lips. “You’re very good at making me feel comfortable.”

“Let’s go.” He took her elbow, guiding her to the bar.

Something about Tilly unnerved him. When was the last time he had noticed the scent from a woman’s shampoo? Fresh, like honeyed apples.

Obviously, the recent long period of celibacy had melted his ability to think methodically and precisely.

Having allowed himself to immerse his every waking moment in work, his social life slipped. After his disastrous engagement, hard steel-determined resolve now encapsulated his heart. Pushing away all thoughts of his ex, he shoved them into a box marked ‘never to be opened’.

Through the large open doors into the dining area, he could see the hotel staff setting the final stages to the buffet. His brows furrowed. “There is no
a la carte
at this hotel.”

She tugged at his arm and they stopped walking. “What’s wrong with buffets?”

Facing her, he said. “Did I say that aloud?”

She nodded, a quirky smile tugged at her lips as though she could not believe that he would say that. “Why don’t you like this carefree approach to eating?” Her hand pointed to the food. “It’s very Australian.”

He did not know how to respond. He liked the finer things in life, especially when it was the exact opposite of what he had growing up.

She laughed. “It’s like you have a neon sign above your forehead. You’re not relaxed. No wonder your sister wants you to have a break.” She clapped her hands together as though she had solved a complex maths equation.

He ran his finger around his shirt collar and was stunned to discover the top buttons undone. Unbelievable. It was like his shirt was strangling him or perhaps the hotel air conditioner was not working. He was the one supposed to get under her skin not the other way round. A drink would help.

His hand cupped her elbow as he steered her to the bar and forced himself not to run his fingers along her arm to see if her skin was smooth all the way. He swallowed hard and morphed back into his interviewing mode. It had never let him down and it was not going to now.

He needed her to bring down Sebastian and right the wrongs from the past in order to make it right for Bea. Everything hinged on Tilly.
The
story depended on her. He swallowed a lump the size of Masada. For years, he had maintained a professional and impeccable manner. For the first time, he was going to convince a vulnerable woman to trust him and then he was going to betray her. It was a line he had never crossed…until now.

Reminding himself of the end game he pinched the bridge of his nose. He would make sure she came out squeaky clean, as he was after Sebastian, not Tilly. He had to do it this way. No way would she trust him, a reporter, especially after what had happened to her in London. If it was not him, it would be someone else. She was hot stuff! Better him than another reporter who would not be so fair.

“So Mattie, is your full name Mataline?”

Something passed across her face, hesitation? Trepidation? And then it was gone as her lovely face lit up. “Actually, it’s Matilda, but, I’d really prefer Tilly.”

“You said before—”

“Call it a safety thing. I’m travelling on my own, I use Mattie instead of Tilly.”

“Lovely to meet you,
Tilly
.” Shaking hands, Nate enjoyed the physical contact of her smaller, warm hand in his a little too much.

A sinking, forborne feeling had his belly in knots and it definitely was not from Tilly’s engaging smile. Was she the metaphoric comet to knock his orderly life off its axis? Dismissing the notion as bollocks, he gestured her towards a low table and two comfortable looking chairs, facing each other. “Shall we?”

Having received the confirmation that she was
the
Tilly Walker, there was an uncharacteristic need for his hindered diaphragm to start working again.

Air forcibly pushed in, and then out. He attributed the slight light headiness to the lack of oxygen. Reassuring himself that once he started breathing properly, he would feel better.

The hotel was abuzz with families and holidaymakers enjoying the resort’s luxurious offerings. Noise of various languages bounced off the walls mingling with laughter and he was relieved when they moved to a quieter area.

Nate graciously held out the chair for Tilly. As he lowered himself into the opposite chair he asked, “A glass of wine?”

The tension coursing through Tilly’s veins dissipated slightly. So far so good. Since they’d met in the lobby, she’d been half expecting him to recognise her as the
Naughty Nanny,
but he had not. Her heart sighed in relief. “Thanks, I’d love a glass of white.”

She loosened her tightened fists, forcing herself to relax with measured, calm breaths as Nate ordered their drinks. If one person recognised who she was, her life would revert to a cesspool of misery. She had had enough of that to last a lifetime.

Nate returned from the bar to join her and she gave him a warm smile as he sat down. Attempting pleasant conversation on her date of a lifetime, she asked, “Did you get much work done this afternoon?”

“I did but I kept thinking how much more fun it would’ve been with you.” His voice was pure bliss, so deep and sexy and the thought of him wanting to spend time with her made her heart quicken. She could not remember the last time a guy had made her want to do something random, like lean over and press her lips to his. Although not a betting gal, she was sure his kisses would make her heart gallop.

“I thought we’d try an Israeli wine. Not only is it highly recommended, but I like to drink local wines or beers.” He nodded politely to the waiter who placed two glasses of white wine and a mezze plate of olives on the small table. Lifting his glass, he toasted, “to new found friends.”

Friends? It could not have only been her who could feel the tingling sensation when their fingers touched. The way his arms had circled her waist when he caught her so capably. Or his innate ability to make her feel comfortable.

A lump of nerves wedged in her throat. After her protected upbringing and sheltered adulthood, she was not confident in making chit-chat conversation. As a carer and now a nanny, she spent more time with her adorable charges than adults.

“To friends.” Returning the toast, she took a sip of the cool liquid before it slid languidly down her throat. “Are you familiar with Australia? Have you visited?”

He leaned casually in the comfortable, leather seats. “Many years ago, I spent two months travelling around Asia and Australia. I stayed in Sydney for three weeks. Is that where you’re from?”

A moment of panic flared in her gut before she took another sip of wine. “Actually, I’m from a town a few hours’ drive from Sydney.” Her eyes widened as she noticed her glass was already half empty. Drinking so quickly on an empty stomach. Stupid! “I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Do you mind if we get something to eat, besides olives?”
I also do not want to end up making a fool of myself on this dream date.

“Of course.” Nate gave her a devastating smile that would have stopped chaotic Israeli traffic, before signalling to the waiter.

Closing her eyes, Tilly silently counted backwards from ten. Focussing on the picture perfect setting of where they were, helped untangled her knotted nerves.

“So, Tilly, what brings you to Israel?”

She decided to keep her answers as close to the truth. “My grandmother was very ill these past couple of years and I’ve been her carer.” Grief became stuck in her throat and she swallowed it away. “After she died and…” She could not tell him about her loser ex, she thought with a sharp pang of reality.

“You must miss her.” His hand came and covered hers.

Her throat was clogged with tears and she gratefully accepted the glass of water he handed her. “I adored her. She understood me. Caring for her wasn’t a chore.” She paused. “It gave me a break from home.”

“You weren’t happy?”

“Not at all. But I’ve always been the go-to person.” she confessed with a loud sigh. Tilly who organised the annual church fete, baked cakes, ran the Sunday school program
and
cooked.

“Go-to?” His brow lifted.

She loved her family, fiercely. But there was something about being so efficient and the inability to say no. She helped out all the time and she would be lying to say she did not enjoy it, but there were times it would have been good not to be so dependable. “I’ve been the organiser of the family for years, baked biscuits, helped out—”

His brow arched. “But you became a carer?”

“That was different. My grandmother relied on me but it wasn’t hard. I’d drive her to her friends and while they played cards, I read.” A smile tugged at her lips thinking about those hours happily spent sprawled on a couch reading as the ladies chatted.

Two tiny lines creased the skin between his eyebrows. “Why didn’t your parents do it?”

“Gran was my mum’s mum and she was so busy helping Dad with his work that I volunteered.” She may not have had the time to study or travel, like her friends, but she had quality time with her Gran discussing the family’s history and her fiercely guarded handed-down recipes.

He nodded in reply. “Is that why you travelled?” He cleared his throat. “After she passed?”

The breath caught in her throat. Still quite unable to believe her Gran was no longer with them. “My mum encouraged me, thinking it would be good for me to see the world.” She made quotation marks in the air over the words ‘see the world’. “Most of my friends have travelled or studied and I didn’t get a chance because…” She pressed her lips together before taking a reassuring breath. “Coming here has been fantastic.” The travelling and sightseeing
had been
fantastic. Despite the chaos that Sebastian had brought to her life, she was still grateful for the opportunity to have lived in London and to now spend time with her aunt in Jerusalem.

“What’s the best thing that you’ve seen?” The endearing look he gave made her heart skip a beat. How was it possible that a gaze from his blue eyes could have such an effect on her?

If she had been sassier, she would have said perving on him, but instead demurely folded her hands in her lap. “I love history. Being here is amazing – everything is so old. I’d love to visit Jaffa. Do you know it’s the oldest, working port in the world? Five thousand years old.” She could not help the excitement creep into her voice. The Middle East was full of interesting sites and she hoped to spend more time visiting and learning.

The waiter interrupted her rapture with a large plate of
hors d’oeuvres
. He pointed to each of the small dishes, “Eggplant, tehina, hummus, mushrooms and pita.”

“
Toda raba
.” The thank you slipped from her lips as she gave the waiter a quick smile. Turning to her date she said, “Thanks for this.” Her hand gestured to the food.

“You’re welcome.”

She grabbed a large piece of pita and dipped it into the thick chickpea spread before taking a large bite. A tiny dollop slipped off the bread and she swiped it from her lip using her forefinger before licking it. Looking up, she found Nate staring at her. His bluer than blue eyes wide open, as though surprised.

Immobile, she stared as his hand came towards her. His fingers grazed along her mouth evoking a trail of wishful longing.

“You have, uh, a smudge.” The rough skin on his thumb brushed along the sensitive skin of her bottom lip before retracting and licking his finger pad.

With frozen lungs and her skin’s nerve endings crying out, begging for his touch, her vocal cords were twisted and tied up. “I-I…”

“
Od yayin.
More wine.” The waiter placed two full glasses on the table.

“Thank you.” Nate gave the intruding waiter a stare that would have frozen the warm Dead Sea waters. The waiter quickly retracted.

Nate speared a couple of fat mushrooms onto his fork. “So Tilly from Australia, what are your plans? Where else will you visit?”

“I’m from a country town. But I want to see everything, Tiberius, Eilat, Tel Aviv and of course, Jaffa.” She rattled off as many places as she could think of. For the time being, she was hiding out in Jerusalem but she really hoped to see more of this interesting country before she had to return home. “What about you? You mentioned you travelled to Asia and Australia.”

An apprehensive look zipped across his face. But two seconds later, his face relaxed as he leaned in his chair, his long legs crossed and stretched out to the side of their table.

“When I was young, all I wanted to do was travel, to get away.” The controlled tone of his voice slipped slightly during his off-hand manner.

“Tell me about it.” She kept her voice low, hoping not to sound too inquisitive. She ate all the pita with hummus before devouring almost everything else. Nate on the other hand, she noticed, had barely eaten a thing.