Page 25 of Return of the Outback Billionaire

The muscles of his back.

What if he had a bath and then stood up to sluice down, facing the window? She could be watching from the doorway. Voyeurism had never been so appealing.

‘Something wrong with my arms?’

Was that a rumble in his voice or a purr?

‘Not that I can see.’ Nope, all good. She refused to be embarrassed because she’d been caught ogling him. Time to check out the other view. White sails, blue skies, the play of light reflecting off skyscraper walls and windows. So busy. Was she ready for all that?

There was no rush, was there? She had time to catch the breath Judah had stolen.

They settled in while a maid unpacked their clothes into separate wardrobes in different rooms. The person from the gallery came to collect her work, and left her with the promise that the collection would be hanging in the gallery from midday tomorrow, and if she wanted to drop by earlier and introduce herself to the staff she was most welcome to. Mr Blake was also most welcome, and had needed no introduction. The gallery guy knew who he was and stood ready to fawn all over him at the slightest encouragement.

Judah didn’t give it.

She had the unsettling feeling he was almost as uncomfortable with their fancy hotel suite as she was.

‘Okay, famous person,’ she said when they left. ‘I’m for walking across the bridge and past Luna Park and ending up at Wendy Whiteley’s secret garden. It’s been years since I was a proper shut-in. I’m willing to find out just how far I’ve come. Want to join me?’

She turned from that beautiful view to find him watching her through narrowed eyes.

‘Okay, make that please come with me. Yes, I’d be using you as a crutch. You’re spectacular in that role, by the way. I’ve never felt so safe. But if you walk with me today, what’s to say that tomorrow I won’t walk to the gallery on my own? And back? With a detour through the shopping area at The Rocks. I could stop for a snack all by myself in the most crowded coffee shop I can find.’

‘You could do that today,’ he said drily.

‘I could.’ She tried to inject a little surety into that statement. ‘I might need to work my way up to “I will”, hence my invitation. I’m crowd-challenged, not stupid.’

He smiled as if he couldn’t help it, and it was a wondrous thing, watching this man relax into his skin.

‘I guess I could be of use,’ he said, and there was that purr again. Did he know he could send goosebumps dancing beneath her skin at the sound of it? Or that he was making her want to offer herself up to him all over again and to hell with being a virgin? She could go out and get rid of that here in the city and be right back in time to accommodate him. In her dreams this was entirely possible.

In reality, she’d never do such a thing, so if anything was going to change in order for them to get together it would have to be him. Not that she was trying to pressure him, because she wasn’t. Kisses were out, friendship was in. Their fake engagement was nothing more than her being willing to wear a pretty ring.

They walked the bridge. They found Wendy’s garden with its towering fig trees and magical view of the bridge. They caught a water taxi back and it took them beneath the bridge and deposited them at Circular Quay just as dusk turned the light that particular shade of purple. She itched for her camera, but she’d made a conscious decision not to bring it with her, the better to simply observe.

Not once had she felt threatened by her surroundings or other people.

Judah too seemed to take the city in his stride. He didn’t have a lot to say, or maybe his body language spoke for him. Walking relaxed him, or being out in the open did. He hadn’t like being cooped up, no matter how enormous the hotel suite. The restaurant they ended up at had an outdoor eating and bar area with a mighty harbour view. One drink turned into two as he asked her what a successful exhibition could do for her. What else she wanted to photograph. Where else in the world she wanted to go.

‘Baby steps,’ she replied. ‘I’m all about getting this exhibition squared away, never mind what might come next.’

‘Think big,’ he urged. ‘Go hard. Figure out your next steps now, before you need to take them.’

‘Yet there I was offering myself to you in the rain and you were all no, no, I’m far too much for you to handle. You thought I should start small.’

His fingers stilled on the glassware in front of him. His gaze met hers, fierce fire banked by shadows.

‘You give contradictory advice,’ she continued. ‘Just saying.’

No argument followed, just silence, tense and heavy.

‘But I’m not dwelling on that. Much. Maybe a little bit. But I am willing to move on. Maybe we should give friendship a go.’ Subtlety be damned.

‘We could start by telling each other something only a friend would know.’

‘Never eat from my plate,’ he offered.

‘Former model here. I barely eat from my plate, let alone someone else’s. Thank you for sharing, though. Not your food, obviously, but your thoughts on sharing food.’ Befriending a billionaire ex-con who had rejected you was hard. ‘We’re sharing a bottle of wine, though. Hurrah.’

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