Chapter 4
Olivia pressed a hand to her chest, certain she was on fire. Nope, no flames. Just skin that was really, really hot. She was
nearly forty, for God’s sake. Watching some young guy mix cocktails in front of her shouldn’t make her this flustered.
But the sensuous way he moved that big body was impossible to ignore.
With fingers she couldn’t help but notice were long and very masculine, Connor popped daft little umbrellas into the glasses, shooting her a look that sent the butterflies in her belly flapping
like overenthusiastic cheerleaders. Ruddy hell, couldn’t they see how wrong he was for her? But wrong could be right for a holiday fling.
“Oh my God.” Beside her, Jessica looked decidedly flushed. “I’m a happily married pregnant woman but that man in those chef’s
whites is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Ashley let out a raspy noise that sounded like agreement. For once, she seemed to have lost her voice.
“You’re considering it, aren’t you?”
Olivia dragged her attention away from Connor and over to her smirking middle sister. “Of course not.”
“Then why do you keep staring at him?”
She forced her eyes to stay away. “I don’t.”
“Jesus, Liv, you have to tap that.” Ashley finally found her voice. “If you don’t, you’ll regret it forever.”
Connor slid the glasses over to Sophie and her friends, and Olivia’s gaze tracked the corded veins on his forearm where he’d
rolled up his sleeves. She swallowed a large gulp of champagne. “What on earth would we talk about?”
Ashley burst out laughing. “You won’t be talking, you muppet.”
His eyes met hers, a flash of brilliant blue, and his crooked smile sent her heart cartwheeling in her chest. Like it was
sixteen and had forgotten all about being mature and sensible.
Luckily the moment was broken by the arrival of four guys in the lounge. She took one look at them and knew instantly what
they were here for. “I need to go to the loo.”
“Oh no.” Ashley gripped her arm. “You think, as your big sister, I haven’t wised up to you? You’re staying. And you’re enjoying
yourself.”
“I’ll stay,” she grumbled. “Beyond that, no promises.”
One of the guys set a music system on the floor. When he pressed play, they all strutted farther into the room. Olivia stepped
back toward the terrace, more than happy for Sophie and her friends to take the front row as the group began their act, thrusting
their hips out like they were in some cheap porno.
Of its own volition, her gaze swung to the man behind the bar, currently laughing with one of the hotel staff who’d come to
replenish supplies. Untidy brown hair as if he’d just tumbled out of bed, straps around his wrists like some rock star, tall
frame, and broad shoulders that wouldn’t have been out of place sauntering along Bondi Beach, a surfboard under his arm. Then
there was the surprise, a crisp white chef’s jacket that should not scream sexy . . . but on him somehow did.
It made the four men currently whipping off their shirts look like they were trying too hard.
Her stomach dropped as those same four men held out their hands, inviting their audience to dance. Olivia edged farther back,
but her movement caught the eye of the one on the right and he ambled toward her.
“Go on, Liv.” Ashley and Jessica practically shoved her into his arms.
Irritation, resentment . . . it simmered inside her. This might be fun for them and for Sophie and her friends, but it wasn’t
fun for her. She got her kicks from staring down a room of arrogant male coworkers, from digesting numbers and charts and ultimately
seeing her fund outperform. She wasn’t wired to enjoy this.
“Relax, sweetheart.” The man currently thrusting his hips at her looked confused. “I won’t bite.”
Screams from her left made her whip her head around. Nicole was cheering on one of the guys as he undulated on the floor;
Chloe, face wreathed in a giant smile, was sitting on a chair with one of the dancers leaning over her, giving her what Olivia
presumed was a lap dance.
Her insides shriveled. “I’m not doing that.”
Her dancing companion shrugged. “Your loss.” He ran his hands down his torso, presumably to emphasize what she was missing
out on.
Her head screamed at her to walk away, but she couldn’t let Sophie down, so she gritted her teeth and shuffled her feet awkwardly,
looking anywhere but in front of her.
A moment later she felt a light touch on her shoulder. She turned to find Connor looking at her with a hint of concern.
“My turn.” He put his big body between her and the male dancer. Then he took her right hand in his, put his left hand loosely
on her hip, and slowly danced them onto the terrace. “Hi again.”
He smiled, crinkles forming at the corner of his eyes, and goose bumps raced across her skin. Goose bumps she did not want
to feel. “I didn’t need you to rescue me.” Embarrassment made her voice too sharp. “I’m perfectly capable of extricating myself
from a situation I don’t want to be in.”
“Who said I was rescuing?” His fingers splayed across her hip were warm, steady. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to dance with
you.” With a subtle flex of his muscular thighs, he turned them round. “At this angle, you can watch.”
“Thanks, but I’ve seen enough of young men thrusting their hips at me.”
His chuckle resonated through her eardrum, and she felt it all the way down to her toes. “Noted. I’ll keep my hips to myself.”
Dimly she heard shrieks from the group as the dancers continued their routine, but Olivia didn’t watch—not that she would
have been able to see much anyway because Connor was too tall for her to look over his shoulder. It forced her attention elsewhere:
To feeling the heat from his chest and the slide of hard muscles beneath his chef jacket. His fingers on her hip pressing,
soothing. Somehow finding their way beneath her blouse and touching her skin, sending a fizz of awareness up and down her
spine.
The smell of aftershave, fresh, vibrant, where she was used to refined and expensive.
The thump of her racing heart.
She was so lost in the moment that she jerked at the touch of a hand on her arm.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, the guys have finished.” Jessica, barely containing her grin, slid Olivia a sly glance before
shifting her attention to Connor. “Lovely to meet you again.” He smiled and held out his hand to shake hers, but she laughed.
“Oh, no, I’m going in for a hug. I’m Jessica, by the way,” she added when she finally stepped back. “Liv’s sister. And this
is Ashley, mother of the bride and Liv’s eldest sister.”
“Hey, let’s just call me the other sister.” Ashley threw her arms around Connor as if they were longtime friends.
“Now please excuse us,” Jessica said brightly. “We’re off to . . . powder our noses.”
“We are?” Ashley looked nonplussed.
Jessica pointed to her belly. “Pregnant lady needs the bathroom. Now.” She took Ashley’s arm and frog-marched her away. Just
as Olivia thought the embarrassment was complete, Jessica halted, turned, and winked at her.
Olivia scowled.
Connor let out a deep rumble of a laugh. “Your sister is trying to set us up.”
“You think?”
He slid her one of the lopsided smiles that came so easily to him. The one that shone in his eyes and was impossible to resist.
She should know—she was trying her hardest. “So, Livvy, are you ready to have a drink with me yet?”
She bent to pick up her glass from the nearby table. “I’m drinking with you now.”
“Great, we can move straight to dinner.”
She wished the butterflies in her stomach weren’t making their presence known quite so vigorously. “I’m here with my niece
on a hen week. I can’t just disappear.”
“Yes, you can.” To her horror, Sophie appeared behind her, a huge grin on her face. “In fact, I insist.”
Throwing them a little wave, she flitted off, leaving Olivia with a sexy, highly amused young male.
“What about it, then?” He angled his head to get down to her level. “If you hate my company, I promise to drop you back with
the rest of your party.”
“And what if I said I’d told you I couldn’t leave them as an excuse so I wouldn’t hurt your feelings?”
“I’d say I’m a big boy and I can take rejection.”
It was said firmly, his gaze unwavering from hers. A reminder that while she was trying to pigeonhole him as young, a boy, it was very obvious he was all man. “Look, I’m flattered, but I don’t like feeling pushed into doing something.”
“And I don’t like pushing. Trouble is, I don’t have the luxury of time.” He touched her chin, and automatically her gaze flew
to his. “You’re here for two weeks, yes?” She nodded. “I’d really like to spend some of that time with you.”
She intrigued him. Sophisticated, cool, yet clearly uncomfortable when asked to dance. A woman who kept herself on a tight
leash. A woman, he sensed, who needed reminding how to have fun.
Olivia took a measured sip of her drink. “You know, there are far easier targets than me.”
Wow. He flinched and added knows how to sucker-punch to her list of attributes. “You think I don’t know that?” Hiding his hurt behind a polite smile, he gave her a curt nod.
“Thank you for the dance. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
He made to go but halted when he felt her hand curl around his arm. Angry at the sharp thrill he experienced at the connection,
he swung back, only to find her pretty hazel eyes filled with apology. “I’ve upset you. I’m sorry.”
Scanning her face, he wondered yet again why he was so drawn to her when she was right, there were other women who’d probably
be happy to be chatted up by him. Women who weren’t guests. “You think I’m some sort of sexual predator?”
“No. God, no.” She looked genuinely contrite. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that. You . . . rattle me. I’m a thirty-nine-year-old
woman. I manage a team in the city. I’m not used to feeling this . . . unbalanced.”
“Yeah, that makes two of us,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair in a bid to settle his own emotions. “Look, this
doesn’t have to be complicated. You’re here on a hen week. I get it. But if you fancy some time away, if you want to see the
island with someone who isn’t family, then let me know.”
“Okay.”
He felt those eyes continue to assess him. “Whatever it is you want to ask, go ahead.”
“Why did you come and interrupt my dance?”
“I didn’t like the idea of you getting too close to him,” he admitted. “Plus you didn’t look like you were enjoying it.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Not a fan of male strippers?”
She didn’t flinch from his gaze. “For me, sex is a private affair between two individuals.”
“So you don’t watch films containing sex scenes? Don’t read books where the author describes sex?”
Finally she looked away. “It’s different. That’s fiction, not real. Plus I’m not watching it with my niece or my sisters.”
“What you saw was a performance, designed to be entertaining. To help loosen some inhibitions in a safe, nonjudgmental environment.”
He stepped up to her and ran his knuckles down the bare skin of her arm. Her breath hitched, a visible shiver running through
her, and he almost groaned at how responsive she was. “I could do the same for you, if you let me. Loosen some of that tightly
wound control you seem so fond of and help you relax. Give in to the moment.”
She shifted her arm away from him. “Maybe I like being in control.”
“I’m sure you do. Doesn’t mean it’s always good for you.”
“And having sex with you would be?”
He ignored the sarcastic tone. “Doing things that bring joy or pleasure are generally good for you.” He bent down to her ear,
the scent of her making his blood hum. “I guarantee I’ll put a smile on your face,” he whispered.
“Cocky.”
“Confident.” He straightened and took a step back before he could do something stupid like walk her back to the wall and kiss
her until she forgot every single objection to him she had. “Don’t dismiss the idea, that’s all I’m saying. Think about it
until I see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” She eyed him sharply and when he couldn’t suppress his grin, she sighed. “Let me guess, you’re on the boat trip.”
“Bingo.”
“As what, chef or bartender?”
Unable to resist, he winked. “However you want me, Livvy. However you want me.”
He watched her try not to smile, then give in. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or afraid.”
“Neither. Just be open-minded and see where it takes you.”
Her eyes searched his. His imagination or were those green-brown eyes softening?
The moment was broken by an irritated clearing of the throat.
“Chef.” His heart sank as he turned to find Felix scowling at him from the doorway. “Your break finished ten minutes ago.”
Embarrassment, hot and angry, crept up his neck. A bollocking he could handle—he’d had plenty of them in his life—but in front
of a woman he was trying to impress? It sucked great hairy balls.
He forced a smile on his face. “Be there in a minute.”
Felix gave him a curt nod and disappeared. When Connor turned his attention back to Olivia, she was grinning. “Uh-oh, looks
like you’re in trouble.”
He scratched at the back of his neck, trying to hide his discomfort. “Yeah, isn’t the first time. Won’t be the last.”
Her teeth bit down on her bottom lip, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Kind of ruins the whole cocky look you had going on.”
“Kind of does. Hard to be angry at a bit of humiliation when it finally got you smiling at me, though.” He took her hand and
pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. “Until tomorrow.”
She rolled her eyes, but the humor was still there. “Until tomorrow.”
He marched back out, giving her a final look over his shoulder before heading to the kitchen.
Felix folded his arms across his chest when he saw him. “Sex with customers isn’t allowed.”
Jesus. “I was talking.” But it was a reminder that according to hotel rules, what he had planned with Olivia was strictly forbidden. Not that it
would stop him—he’d always been a rule-breaker. It just meant he had to be careful. He was working here only because of Felix’s
friendship with Aaron, and he absolutely could not afford to lose his job back home.
“I know you young men,” Felix muttered. “I was one. Talk one day, in bed the next.”
He almost laughed. If only it were that easy. “Just trying to get to know the bachelorette party I’m catering for tomorrow.”
With a final searching look, Felix dismissed him and Connor made his way to his service station. As he started prepping for
the lunch menu he’d planned for the boat trip, Luca sidled over.
“The Chicken Box tonight. You up for it?”
“Sure.” His response was automatic. He’d come out here to earn money and learn, yes, but also to relax, to party.
Yet when the shift finished, the thought of a night out didn’t give him the usual buzz of excitement. It was possible he just
felt tired.
It was equally possible he knew he’d not meet another woman who’d capture his imagination as much as the one he’d been dancing
with earlier.