The Millionaire (11 page)

“Yeah.”

“How long are you back for?”

“A couple more weeks.”

She moved her hand from his, tangled her fingers around her earring.

“Will that be long enough?”

“I don’t know. But it’s what I do, Ellie.”

“I know. And you’re amazing at it.”

He lifted his hand from her shoulder and stroked her cheek, the backs of his knuckles so soft against her skin that she wanted to melt into the feeling of his strength.

“All your grandparents need to know is that I’m helping you out with your charity fundraiser. Let’s keep it simple. No more explanations.”

“Okay,” she murmured.

He tangled his fingers in the strands of hair that fell forward on to her chest. “This is your gig, Ellie. You’re the boss on this shoot. I’m here to do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?”

Around and around, he wove her locks tightly on his finger. “Anything you want.”

She stepped back. “I think we’d better head out and scout some locations, don’t you?”

“I’ll get my camera bag.”

*

It had been
a long day. Ellie was still weary from getting up so early, wound tight as a drum with tension about being so close to Chris, sweltering in the heat, bothered by the flies that had arrived in their millions and she really, really wanted a cold beer.

But she wouldn’t have swapped this experience for the world.

The spot Chris had chosen for the photo was damn near perfect.

The setting sun lit up the red earth so it looked aflame, and a picturesque flock of sheep grazed in the far background, a smudge of ivory on the landscape. An old windmill stood forlorn in the paddock and Chris had skilfully positioned Trev so those three elements would frame the picture. The colours of the outback and iconic images of the bush. An old man who’d been on the land his whole life and, thanks to the Flying Doctor, was still there.

Ellie loved watching Chris work. There was a fluidity about him and his camera, the manner in which he looked and moved, peered down the lens and then looked up, surveying the scene to ensure he grabbed the best angle. And the way he talked to her grandfather was relaxed and easy. He’d asked about the property and the drought, and the chance of rain from the dark clouds hovering in the distance. Once Trev was on a roll, talking about his beloved bush, he’d seemed to forget the camera was there at all.

Which had been Chris’s modus operandi, obviously.

He’d drafted Ellie in to holding the reflector, a large silver shimmering disc, which caught the light and bounced it into her grandfather’s face to rid it of the shadows caused by the bright outback sunshine. She followed Chris’s patient instructions about moving left, right, and angling the reflector so the details of Trev’s face would be highlighted. When he’d had to stand behind her and lean over her, his arms around her, reflecting the light at just the right angle, her knees almost betrayed her.

Later that day, after the shots were done and dinner was eaten with gusto, her grandparents had headed off to bed. They were up at sparrow’s fart, as Trev liked to describe it, so were early to bed at the other end of the day.

The house was quiet, except for the hum of Chris’s laptop and the click of the keys as he worked.

“I’ll transfer the shots over and we can have a look,” he explained.

Ellie was almost sprawled out next to him, her chin in one hand, her legs stretched out under the kitchen table. She was tired. And still on edge. And given they were drinking a very nice bottle of Australian Riesling, she was feeling slightly mellow. Or perhaps just the tiniest bit drunk.

“What do you think?”

Ellie shifted closer to the laptop screen so she could take a look. And that meant she brushed up against Chris. Their arms touched, her shoulder pressed against his and her bare leg rubbed against his under the table. It was only a small laptop. She had to get close to see.

Chris clicked on a thumbnail and enlarged a shot.

Ellie gasped.

The image was stunning. There was earthy red dirt and brilliant blue sky and the wizened old face of her beloved grandfather. He looked proud and strong in that shot, his bush hat on his head, his dusty boots planted firmly in the soil of the land he loved. Ellie hadn’t meant to cry at seeing it, but the tears came. She would never forget what he looked like when he’d been in hospital. Pale, small, tucked within the white sheets, uncertain and scared. There was none of that in his face in the photograph.

“Oh, Chris,” Ellie exclaimed and, without planning to or thinking about it, grabbed his forearm. She splayed her fingers there on his warm skin and squeezed. “You’ve captured him exactly right. That’s Grandpa.”

“Is that the one you want to use?”

“It’s wonderful…” With her free hand, she wiped the tears from her cheeks.

When Ellie lifted her eyes from the laptop screen and looked up at Chris, she discovered he hadn’t been looking at his computer at all. He was looking down at her. He slipped an arm around the back of her chair and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled with awareness.

“You are… you’re amazing,” she said as she locked eyes with his.

He moved, leaned a little closer, enclosed her just the slightest bit more and his lips, the ones she couldn’t stop staring at, hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since the first time she’d seen him at One Mile Beach, were right there.

And she kissed him.

‡

E
llie tasted like
wine and woman and sex.

And Chris wanted more.

Her unexpected kiss, the hasty press of her full lips against his, simply gave him a taste of what he’d wanted all day. He’d barely been able to concentrate on the image down the lens, knowing she was standing two metres to his left, her long legs on full display, that loose shirt of hers fluttering in the breeze and clinging to her breasts and arse.

They’d spent the whole day together and he wanted to spend the whole night with her, too. But the look on her face now, the way she’d pulled back from him after that quick kiss, the way she was biting her lip and playing with her earring like she did? It had regret written all over it.

Chris reached for his wine glass and drank what was left. He swallowed hard.

“Oh, shit,” Ellie pushed her chair back and it scraped against the slate floor. She walked over to the stove and put the kettle on, kept her back to him. “I can’t believe I did that.” Ellie avoided his gaze. “I’m tired, that’s all. Maybe I’ve had too much wine. Seeing that photo…”

Chris turned in his chair. “Ellie. You just got in first. And why doesn’t that surprise me about you?”

“I know. That’s the problem.

“Why is that a problem?”

Ellie blew out a breath. “You’re the problem. You’re so damn talented, and I still can’t believe you said yes and you’ve come all this way. And you manage to pull off a shot like that…”

“I’m not such an honourable man, Ellie.” Chris stood and strode to her. “I haven’t come all this way just to do my bit for charity.”

She stiffened as he got close. She knew he was going to kiss her and, this time, they were going to do it right. Long and slow and then fast and hot and then all night long and naked.

“I know the score,” she said quietly. “This is all about trying to rescue your family’s name and your reputation.”

He reached for her hair and swept it away from the side of her neck, then leaned down and whispered into her ear. “I don’t give a flying fuck about my reputation.”

“You don’t?”

He reached for her hips, her curves so luscious in his hands, and she arched her back into him.

“And I didn’t come all the way out here to rescue anyone.”

He pulled her back to him, so her ass jammed up against his thighs. He could feel her shiver under his touch and he got hard.

“So why did you come?” Ellie murmured as she tilted her head up and met his eyes.

“I came for you, Ellie.”

Chris skimmed his hands up the curves at her sides, over her breasts; slowly so he could feel her nipples harden and bud under his thumbs. He smoothed a hand over her shirt and cupped a breast, held on, looked into her eyes so he was sure this was what she wanted too, and then kissed her.

Slowly, gently at first, his lips grazed hers and when he heard her moan and felt her shiver, he opened his mouth and she opened hers, and their tongues met and danced. They kissed like lovers, capturing the flare of heat and lust and mystery in that first kiss.

Ellie held on to him like she was drowning and Chris suddenly felt like he was.

They stumbled back to the table and Chris leaned back against it, spreading his legs and pulling her into the space between his thighs. She came willingly, pressed her breasts against his pecs and kissed him again. Then her hands were in his hair, pulling it back from his face, and she laughed.

“Something funny?” he asked, his words smothered by her lips and her laughter.

She pulled back and her eyes wandered to the top of his head. “I’m wondering if you’re like Sampson. If you would lose all your power if you lost all your hair.”

“My power isn’t in my hair, Ellie.”

“Oh, god,” she sighed and then her hands were under his T-shirt, her fingernails digging into the skin on his stomach, her fingers caressing and taking.

And he wanted her. Wanted her naked and sweaty and in his hands. On the damn kitchen table. He was so far beyond control or caring now, his cock straining and demanding, his need for her overwhelming and immediate, that every reason why he shouldn’t was shot to hell.

“I want you,” he growled.

And the kettle boiled.

Ellie sprung out of his arms and strode to the stove, flicking off the knob. She grabbed a mitt and lifted the steaming kettle off the hotplate. When she turned to him, she was red as a beetroot and stifling a laugh.

“It could have woken them up.”

“Uh huh,” he said.

“It was about to go off,” she said with a quirk of her eyebrows.

“It ain’t alone. So unless you want your grandparents walking in and finding us fucking on the kitchen table, we’d better go to bed.”

*

Ellie grabbed Chris’s
hand and dragged him through the house. When they were safely in her room, he closed the door, turned to her and pulled off his T-shirt.

The light from the stars and moon outside created a dim glow in the room and as Ellie’s eyes adjusted, she took in every inch of his bare chest, rising and falling with each breath. She planted her palms on the corrugations of his belly, running her fingers over them like the ruts in the dirt road they’d driven down. She liked these bumps so much better. He stood still before her, not moving, letting her admire him, watching her as she watched him.

It was an arrogant move, but he had a lot to be arrogant about. Ellie gripped his hips, and kissed his magnificent chest, its taut smoothness warm over hard muscle. She flicked her eyes to his and he gazed at her, his chest moving with each breath, and she pressed her lips to him, a wet kiss on each flat nipple, savouring the taste of him, soap and strength and man. When he crushed himself against her, she felt the length and strength of his desire, and she closed her eyes.