Page 28 of Return of the Outback Billionaire

‘What time is it?’

‘Quarter to six.’ Give or take.

He didn’t groan, but it was close. A proper fiancée might have asked him what time he got in. A proper fiancée might have stayed out all night with him, but she was neither of those, although she did know full well that it had been after three before he got in. ‘I ordered coffee from room service. Shall I order one for you? How do you take it?’

‘However it comes.’ Suddenly he was on his feet and stretching, and it was impossible not to look. He wore only boxers and there was not an inch of the man’s body that hadn’t been sculpted and honed to perfection.

‘Let’s try that again,’ he rasped. ‘Strong and black, no sugar and cream on the side.’

‘I’m on it.’ She left him on the terrace and called his order in, and if she snapped a couple of stealth photos of him out there enjoying the view for her own private collection, well, she would wrestle with her conscience later.

She so rarely got to photograph people—that part was true.

The novelty of it was making her take stealth photos of this man—a rationalisation so blatantly false she rolled her eyes and vowed to stop lying to herself.

He was beautiful.

Beautiful and dangerous and so utterly compelling that whenever she saw him she itched to capture a little piece of him to keep. A glance. The cut of his jaw. His stance. She wanted to memorise them.

Oh, hell. That was stalking behaviour.

Nausea crawled down her throat and threatened to return with bile. She found the shots and deleted them, conscience cleared, but the bitter aftertaste of obsessive behaviour still lingered. No one deserved to be the unwilling focus of someone else’s obsession. She knew that better than anyone.

So when the coffees came and Judah entered the kitchen to get his, she studied him with a detached eye for detail and a determination to treat him with respect. ‘I took a look at the clothes I packed last night—bear with me because I am going somewhere with this story...’

Maybe he hid a smile behind the rim of his coffee cup, and maybe he didn’t, but somehow she could sense him unwinding into the space she’d left for him.

‘And I’m heading out this morning to find new clothes to wear tonight. And because I wish to be friends with you, I’m not asking you to come with me and endure hours of boredom. You do you, I’ll do me, and I’ll be back after I’ve been to the gallery. I’m aiming for a late lunch up here in the suite, because I’ll have had enough of people by then and I’ll need to recharge before the exhibition opening.’

‘Sounds like a plan.’

‘I really would like for you to be there for me this evening,’ she continued doggedly. ‘I’m going to be nervous.’ She was already nervous. ‘But you don’t need to be there if it’s really not your thing.’

‘In the eyes of the world you’re my fiancée. It’s your first show. I’ll be there.’

‘If I take your hand and squeeze, it’ll mean I need to get out of there before I have a meltdown. And I know artists are known for being temperamental, fragile, or all ego, but I’d rather not be seen as any of those things.’

‘Even if you are?’

She sipped her coffee and took strength from it. ‘Yes, even if I am those things underneath. I don’t want to show that vulnerability to the world. I think that’s something you might understand and I’m asking for your help.’

‘You’ll get it.’

‘Thank you.’ She could ask for nothing more. ‘Coffee’s good.’

‘Very.’

‘I took pictures of you this morning when you were out on the terrace.’

‘I know.’

‘I deleted them.’

He said nothing.

‘You dazzle me. You have such presence. All that coiled strength and power. I want to see how it works, break it down into understandable pieces, but I’m not a stalker and the thought that I’m beginning to act like one horrifies me. I won’t ever take pictures of you again without asking your permission. I think that’s important for both of us to understand. You have my word.’

‘Okay.’

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