Interview with the Daredevil

She hadn’t been sure about taking an economics major, she hadn’t been sure about marrying Leon and she sure as hell wasn’t sure what she’d do next career-wise but if there was one thing she was sure of tonight this was it.

‘Does room 1620 answer your question?’

She held her breath as he guided her into the elevator, hit the sixteen button and brushed a soft kiss across her lips.

‘Perfectly,’ he said as they stood like silent sentinels, watching the panel counting down the numbers from twenty-seven to sixteen, and when the elevator pinged and the doors slid open on the sixteenth floor she could’ve sworn she experienced an adrenalin rush no jump off a bridge could ever hope to reproduce.

CHAPTER THREE

ROMAN had exactly sixty seconds to extricate himself from this situation and make a run for it.

How many times had he aborted a jump due to risky conditions? Or rescheduled a climb for another day due to changeable, unfavourable winds?

Too many to count and right now he had that same churning in his gut telling him something wasn’t right.

He knew what it was. Despite her forwardness Ava had vulnerable written all over her. And he’d had a gutful of susceptible females, considering the major reason he’d fled to Australia was to get as far away from one as possible.

Not entirely fair, as Ava had more strength in her little finger than Estelle had in her entire passive-aggressive body, but fresh from another emotionally draining bout with his moody mother left him with little impetus to fall headlong into another potentially fragile situation, even if it was for only a night.

Ava practically bounced along beside him as they traversed the long corridor to her room, oblivious to his dilemma.

For that was what he was facing: lose himself for a night in a wild, passionate encounter guaranteed to refresh or give the woman beside him another reason to doubt herself if he ditched her at her door.

She’d do it too, probably rehash their pool encounter at length and come to the erroneous conclusion that she’d said or done something wrong to drive him away.

He’d hate that, for he could see she’d already had the life squished out of her. Being a prime minister’s daughter would’ve been hell, not to mention a politician’s wife, and the fact she’d gathered enough courage to invite him back to her room for a one-night stand spoke volumes.

A month out of a divorce, she needed to test the freedom waters. It had nothing to do with getting laid and everything to do with asserting a femininity he’d hazard a guess had been battered.

He’d seen mates go through divorces and one word summed them up. Ugly. How much harder had it been for Ava, with the added pressure of her family name?

The right thing to do would be to walk her to her door, kiss her goodnight and wish her a happy life. The last thing she needed was a guy who made an art out of escapism, who’d outrun an Olympian at the first sign of anything deeper than casual.

And Ava needed deeper. She needed a good guy to nurse her through this tender period, a guy to build her confidence, a guy to be there for her.

He sure as hell wasn’t that guy.

He’d make sure she made it safely back to her room, try to assure her he’d had a fun evening and make a run for it.

Decision made, he risked a sideways glance at her, his gut instantly tightening and making a mockery of his resolution.

Water droplets clung to the strands of hair framing her glowing face, her skin still dewy and damp from their pool encounter. Her body was completely covered in the hotel’s voluminous robe but he could remember every intriguing detail: the nip of her waist, the flare of her hips, her smooth caramel-toned legs, her breasts … The tension within him coiled tighter, strangling his resolve to leave her and walk away. He knew what he had to do. Shame his libido wasn’t with the programme yet.

‘Almost there.’

A barely detectable tremor underscored her husky tone and in that second his intention to leave her alone took a serious hit.

Her susceptibility was the one thing driving him away yet that audible hint of vulnerability had him wanting to hold her close all night.

He wasn’t usually a sucker for a damsel in distress—discounting Estelle, who’d worked out he was an easy target for a single mother and who never let him forget that fact every day of his life.

Nope, he usually went for confident, showy women. Women proud of their assets, who knew how to use them. Women like him. Nothing wrong with grabbing the spotlight and staying there, something he’d perfected out of necessity.

So why was he so hung up over a naive divorcee primed to test her newfound independence?

‘Here we are.’

With her back to the door, she gazed at him with a gut-punching mix of wary optimism and expected rejection. The rejection hit him hardest, as if she’d expected him to walk away all along.

‘You sure—’

Her fingertips pressed against his lips, effectively silencing him, and when her hand trailed slowly downwards, her palm coming to rest over his heart, he knew he couldn’t do it.

Walking away would be like kicking a defenceless puppy. Not that he pitied her, far from it. He admired her pluck in a world that must be topsy-turvy for her right about now.

Women reeling from divorces might want to assert their independence but often didn’t follow through so the fact they’d got this far notched up his admiration further.

When her palm slid lower, lingered on his upper abs, her fingers tentatively exploring, he didn’t pity her or admire her, he just plain wanted her and taking a step closer, their bodies barely touching, he knew that whatever happened when they stepped through that door, he wanted to make this night memorable for her.

When Ava had headed for a late-night swim she hadn’t expected to bring back a visitor to her room so when she slid the key card into the slot and opened the door to her room, she baulked.

‘Problem?’

Yeah, there was a problem.

She’d never done this before.

Inviting a guy she’d just met back to her room for sex? So far out of the realms of reality to be ludicrous. Except for the fact she had an incredibly hot, amazingly gorgeous guy hovering behind her, waiting for them to take their flirtation all the way.

Was she nervous? Hell yeah, but anticipation far outweighed her nerves.

A moment ago, she’d thought Roman would kiss her goodnight and walk away. He’d had that look, the look of a guy wanting to do the right thing.

She never should’ve blurted that stuff about being recently divorced; for all she knew, this was a pity lay.

Would it matter? Considering how Roman had made her feel the last hour, probably not. She wanted to explore the attraction between them, wanted to see if the excitement making her nerves buzz and her muscles clench could carry over into the best sex of her life.

Staying in this hotel had been all about a fresh start and what better way to kick-start her new life than with an unforgettable night with a guy who made her insides quiver with a single look?

A delicious shiver ran through her as Roman nuzzled her ear, his arms sliding around her waist from behind, pulling her close to reveal evidence of how he could make all her problems vanish over the next few hours.

‘The place is a mess,’ she said, tilting her head back to look at him.

‘I’m not here to check out the place.’

His mouth crushed hers in a breath-stealing kiss to prove it and her last-minute doubts faded into oblivion.

When he finally gave her a chance to breathe again, she said, ‘Right, now we’ve cleared that up, come on in.’