Falling for Mr Wrong (8 page)

“Jerusalem.” She raised her eyebrow.

Swinging around, she pulled her bag along walking towards the hostel’s entrance.

Barely fifteen seconds away from Nate, she heard, “Where’s lover-boy?” Her stomach recoiled as her blood froze.

The four reporters were still here?

Sort of. Legally so.

They had perched themselves just outside the fence’s perimeter, so they were no longer trespassing on private property.

She spun away not wanting the photographers to snap a close up with their long-range lens.

Oh God
.

Her heart pounded against her ribs so hard she was sure they would hear it even though twenty metres separated them.

Fear swirled in her throat. She swallowed hard, resisting the urge to vomit. The early morning cup of coffee in her belly hardened to mud.

More questions were fired in her direction.

The whirl of the camera shutters continued.

Tilly’s grip tightened around her bag in an effort to hide her trembling hands. With legs as solid as liquid glue, she forced her feet to walk one step at a time back to reception.

The bus stop was barely five metres from the gate, but it could have just as easily been five kilometres. To reach it, she had to walk past them. They were all lined up, waiting for her.

If asked, her last request would be for them to be transported to Mars.

“Darling.” Nate’s arm circled her waist as his lips brushed her cheeks, playing the role of loving fiancé all too well. Her shoulders slumped in relief and her head leant against the strength of his bicep. He whispered in her ear, “You walk away and in seconds you’re back in trouble.”

“Had a lover’s quarrel, have we? Tilly didn’t look too happy just before.” One of the reporters asked with a snigger.

“Not at all. We’re in a disagreement whether to climb Masada or catch the cable car.” Nate explained, the lie rolling from his tongue like a seasoned professional.

The reporters paused before realising no sane person would climb during the heat of the day. They fired a barrage of questions.

Nate ignored them and their question, tugging Tilly towards him as they returned to the security of the main building.

Tilly struggled to keep up with the length of his long, quick strides, her breath coming in short bursts.

Without stopping or looking towards her he fired, “did you really think you could just walk out of here? Catch a public bus?”

Tilly barely recognised Nate. With the skin stretched taught across his cheeks and his lips a horizontal slash, he looked like he was about to punch someone. His imposing stance had her stepping side-ways, away from him. “You said you had a plan,” he fired at her.

“I do.”

He stopped walking and turned to face her. “Do you really think they’re going to leave now? We need to go to London. Now.”

His forceful tone made her look up. “No.” She glared at him. “I’m going to Jerusalem.”

“How? They’re waiting for you. You don’t have a car. How are you going to get there?” His eyebrows furrowed into to an accusing ridge.

“You’re going to take me,” she said with a defiant tone, as she straightened her stance.

“I beg your pardon?” His forehead creased in surprise.

“You announced our engagement and made me more interesting than I was. So you can take me.”

“Why should I?” His arms crossed in front of his chest. A bemused look passing across his face.

“Because I’m your fiancé?” she said with a toss of her hair.

He scowled and she caught the tightening of his jaw.

“Please Nate,” she begged. “I need to get my things.” She could not possibly tell him the truth as to why her phone was so important. It had pictures on it that could destroy Sebastian’s career. She would love to use them, but knew that in doing so, she would hurt his wife. The only person who had been kind to her in London.

He scratched his chin. “If I take you, you’ll come to London?”

“Yes.” She lied. She hated lying but there was no way she could deal with the reporters on her own. As much as she resented Nate and his stupid fake engagement, she actually needed him.

“Fine. We’ll go to Jerusalem and then to London,” he said with a mock sigh, as though he was dreadfully inconvenienced. Little did he know how inconvenienced he soon would be.

“Great.” Relief mixed with gratitude flowed through her veins and she stood on tippy-toes, determined to give him a thankful kiss on the cheek.

Their gazes clashed and she caught the smug look that flicked across his eyes.

Her jaw tightened and she pulled back. Did he have to look so pleased? As her feet lowered to the ground, she took a willing step away from him.

His engaging grin took infuriating to a whole new level.

“Thanks for your permission,” she said in the insincere tone she learnt all too well from Stanley Porter.

Seething, she deliberately bumped her shoulder against his arm as she stormed past.

“You’ve got to be kidding!” Tilly looked at the back seat of Ilan’s small sedan. There was not enough room to have put the Porters’ child restraining car seats let alone two adults.

“Nate, lie on the floor.” Ilan pointed to the back seat. “And Tilly, you lie on top of him that way, they won’t see you.”

She shook her head while Nate muttered something inaudible under his breath.

“I can’t.” No way could she lie on top of Nate for fifteen seconds or fifteen minutes. She did not trust her hormones that cart-wheeled each time Nate was near her. The waft of his male scent combined with the tang of his aftershave had images of beaches, bathing shorts and sunsets popping into her brain.

What if they accidentally brushed lips?

What if it wasn’t accidental?

Nate gave her an exasperated look reminding her that not only had Ilan driven him to save
her
, but he had also waited and devised an escape plan. Her chest squeezed thinking how little respect she had shown Ilan and his Matchbox sized car.

“Fine,” she said, agreeing with reluctance to Ilan’s crazy plan.

So they lay face-to-face, body to body, with her stretched over his lean muscles.

Minutes later, Ilan slammed his foot on the accelerator, the car’s wheels grinding as it sped out of the hostel and past the reporters who were unaware of his great plan of escape.

Ilan twisted around to look at them. “You can get up now, they’re not following.” Taking a corner at breakneck speed, he added, “good idea of mine, yes?”

The tyres squealed as Ilan confidently rounded the next bend. He grabbed the borrowed kaffiyeh off his head and tossed it on the empty passenger seat.

“I think you’ve been watching too many James Bond movies,” Nate said with a grunt.

Ilan laughed and continued to drive them back to Nate’s hotel.

Despite the air conditioner pumping out cold air, the back-area was reminiscent of her day at the resort. A trickle of perspiration leisurely made its way down to her spine, her shirt glued to her skin.

Nate grunted. “Tilly, you have to move.”

She fluttered her eyelashes. “I’m too heavy?”

He sucked in a breath. “No, your knees are digging into my thigh.”

“Well I didn’t complain about your elbow and my rib.”

“
Sheket
, kids!” Ilan’s voice interrupted them.

Nate’s warm breath brushed her neck and Tilly was sure Ilan had switched the air con from cold to hot.

“Tilly, you need to get off me.”

She placed her hands on the floor, on either side of his neck to hoist herself up.

“You’re doing push ups?”

She bristled at his incredulous tone. “I’m trying to get up.”

“How do you expect to get to the seat doing that?” The skin around his jaw tightened.

Hmm.
Good question
.

“Oh, for godsake.” He placed his hands under her armpits, lifting her up before tossing her unceremoniously onto the back seat.

“Gee, thanks, I think,” she said pulling herself into a seated position.

Still lying on the car floor, Nate’s teeth gritted. “My leg is stuck.”

“Your fault for being so tall.” She said all too smugly before securing her seatbelt.

He gave her a dirty look. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Yes, thank you.” She could not help the smile that made her lips twitch in amusement.

Twisting his torso, Nate muttered a couple of obscenities which were directed at his cramped legs. “Can you lift your feet?”

She lifted the legs, tucking them under bottom. “Better?”

His face grew a darker shade of red as he shifted inch by inch to raise himself. Despite much huffing and puffing, he seemed to be stuck to the floor. “You need to help me.”

Actually, she preferred not to. Watching him struggle had given her an enjoyable, visual treat. Muscles bulging, sweat glistening his skin. A girl would have to have rocks in her head not wanting to watch the show.

Sighing with reluctance, she leaned over to lock wrists. Dismissing the electrical surge shooting up her arm, she tugged hard. He grunted. She grunted.

With an almighty heave, she pulled him upright before he fell on top of her.

Courtesy of the rear view mirror Ilan said, “Get a room.”

“It’s not what you think!” She flushed hotter than the desert sands.

“I know what I saw.” He gave them a knowing wink before returning his gaze to the road.

“It’s a little cramped here,” Nate muttered. Using the seat, he leveraged himself up just as Ilan took another sharp turn that would impress professional race car drivers.

Nate was flung sideways landing onto Tilly.

“You should be wearing a seatbelt,” she reprimanded, in her best schoolteacher imitation.

“Like I didn’t know that,” he muttered from clenched teeth before sliding to the other passenger seat.

She turned towards the window pretending to be interested in the spectacular desert views. Since leaving the hostel, Nate had been a comforting presence, especially with her jangled nerves over the reporters discovering her. How had they? Nate’s warm breath caressed her neck whilst whispering reassuring words during their Great Escape making her forget about the men chasing her for the story. Again, for a few minutes she was a young woman having fun, on holidays, away from the stress of the past.

His solid presence, holding her close, had been enough to wave away the apprehension swirling in her belly. Once they had passed the hostel’s gates, Tilly had barely considered the reporters. Her focus revolved around the cosy confined space, his strong arms holding her close and the sticky warmth gluing them together. It did not take long for her jumbled thoughts to venture to more intimate ones, revolving around hot, sweaty, naked bodies.

How could she remain detached when his generosity knew no-bounds?

“Are you okay?” He touched her arm with a gentle press of his fingers.

“Fine,” she lied. Keeping her eyes fixed on the outside view meant her eyes could not steal another glance of sculpted male body. His lean muscles and flat stomach looked as if they had been poured into his dark jeans and fitted black tee.

How dare he look so delectable?

“We need to work on our story. How we met.”

Tilly risked a quick look and wished she hadn’t. Flutters in her tummy reminded her she was now ‘engaged’ to Mr. Gorgeous seated next to her. “They’re not going to believe us.” Her voice lifted an octave.

“As long as we keep to the story, we’ll be fine.”

His assurances did little to quell the butterflies performing an Israeli hora dance in her tummy. “What about your sister? My family?”

“I’ll speak to Bea,” he reassured, with a quick pat on her knee.

Silence settled between them. Her palms grew damp. “No one is going to believe we’re engaged. It’s all come out of the blue.”

Nate took her hand into his. “We’ll convince them.”

The body warmth seeped into her fingers making her insides turn gooey. She shook her head but did not remove her hand from his soothing hold. “I can’t. I’m not an actress.”

She bit her tongue to avoid blurting out how delighted her family would be
when
they would hear about it. Surprised, yes. Excited, definitely. A man like Nate to care for their daughter and sister? She could already hear the champagne corks popping from Australia. But it was all a lie. Yet another one to add to the list.

It was for the greater good and it would work itself out, however, all too soon, she and Nate would part. She would return to being on her own and nursing an all to-real broken heart.

In the short time since they met, Tilly felt an affinity for Nate. A connection she assumed was love. And what of Nate’s consideration for her? Hadn’t that been the cherry on the pie? The icing on the cake? All those metaphors and more. She had never had that with Travis.

Shaking her head, she said,“you’re well known in London and I’m an ordinary girl from a country town in Australia. You’re kidding yourself if you think the press will accept our fake engagement.”

“We’ll make them. We’ll do it together.”

Her gut coiled.
Together
. Not facing the reporters alone had her neck muscles relaxing in relief. “You make it sound so easy.”

He looked puzzled by her admission. “You’re making it to be harder than it is. When the press ask questions, I’ll answer and you smile.”

She raised her eyebrow. “Like a monkey?”

A slight frown creased his brow. “Fine, I’ll smile and you talk.”

Her stomach turned itself inside out at the thought of dealing with the barrage of questions. “No thanks, I’ll do the smiling.”

He gave her a slow, sexy smile that had her heart race. “See? We’re a brilliant team already.”

“Great!” She forced enthusiasm into her voice. After this performance, she would deserve an Academy Award.

With a rapid determination that would have impressed James Bond, Tilly and Nate were soon driving to Jerusalem in a hired car.

“I can’t believe you packed, checked-out and organised transport in half an hour.”

“Actually, Ilan organised the car for me before returning to work.”

“It was very nice of him to help us out.” She made a mental note to write a thank you card to Ilan, at a later stage.