the strangest sensation she’d just grabbed a tiger by the tail.
Chapter Ten
J UNO ’ S keep-things-real plan began to unravel on the first-class flight over the Atlantic.
Luckily she wasn’t a complete stranger to luxury travel, having flown down to the wedding in Connor’s private jet, so she nobly resisted the urge to squeal when she saw the wide leather seat that folded down into a bed. And her eyes didn’t get much bigger than dinner plates when she was handed a glass of champagne straight after take-off. Having Mac’s hand settle on her thigh as the plane soared to thirty thousand feet had been more of a challenge. But she thought she’d handled herself surprisingly well, only peppering him with a thousand or so questions about Hollywood and Los Angeles and his home in Laguna Beach before she dropped into an exhausted sleep.
Unfortunately, nothing could have prepared her for the shock of opening her eyes, her mind still groggy from sleep and travel twenty hours later, and finding herself in Mac Brody’s home.
She couldn’t even remember that much about how she’d ended up in the enormous bedroom suite. After getting through the necessary ordeal of customs and passport control, she’d fallen straight back to sleep on the helicopter flight from LAX down to Laguna Beach. She vaguely recalled opening tired eyes during the journey and being wowed by the sight of the sun peeking over the Southern Californian coastline, then inhaling Mac’s tantalising scent and feeling his muscles bunching beneath her cheek as he’d carried her into the house, but that was about it.
She propped herself up on the huge fluffy pillows and stared out of the wall of glass at the far end of the room.
‘Good God.’
The whispered exclamation rang out above the sibilant purr of the air-conditioning.
Even spending time in Connor and Daisy’s magnificent home in Portobello had not prepared her for living in the lap of this sort of luxury. A wide bleached-stone terrace gave way to the brilliant blue of an infinity pool, its lush lagoonlike feel accentuated by a thicket of yucca palms and exotic potted plants.
Throwing off the coverlet, she scrambled across the thick woollen carpet to get a better look at the eye-popping view.
The house sat perched on a low cliff, the rugged, sundrenched coastline stretching away round the promontory to afford complete privacy. She placed her palms on the glass and gawped at what she could see of the metal and glass frontage of the house. Stretching onto her tiptoes, she spied the empty cove below the house accessed by a set of stone steps carved into the rocks. Lazy surf pounded onto sand so white it made her squint.
Her breath backed up in her lungs. Kubla Khan eat your heart out. Mac Brody’s pleasure dome beat Xanadu hands down.
Then she caught sight of her reflection in the glass. Dressed in a vest-top and a pair of simple white panties, she looked like a scrawny schoolgirl cast adrift in a sea of splendour. The ever-present blush heated her cheeks.
What was she doing here? She couldn’t have looked more out of place if she tried!
She took a deep breath. Eased it out slowly.
Calm down.
Staying here for two whole weeks was going to be the biggest adventure of her life. And if she was going to enjoy every second, she simply did not have time for a nervous breakdown.
She glanced back at the bed. Only her side had been slept in. She wondered where Mac had spent the night. She dismissed her disappointment. He’d probably been as exhausted as her. The few times she’d woken up during the flight he’d been busy working on his laptop, so he was no doubt catching up on his sleep. Or maybe he’d gone to work. Even with two weeks before his next project started, he might still have meetings and photo shoots and interviews and stuff like that to do. She doubted movie stars ever had very much free time and she didn’t intend to be some annoying little limpet constantly begging for his
Chapter Ten
J UNO ’ S keep-things-real plan began to unravel on the first-class flight over the Atlantic.
Luckily she wasn’t a complete stranger to luxury travel, having flown down to the wedding in Connor’s private jet, so she nobly resisted the urge to squeal when she saw the wide leather seat that folded down into a bed. And her eyes didn’t get much bigger than dinner plates when she was handed a glass of champagne straight after take-off. Having Mac’s hand settle on her thigh as the plane soared to thirty thousand feet had been more of a challenge. But she thought she’d handled herself surprisingly well, only peppering him with a thousand or so questions about Hollywood and Los Angeles and his home in Laguna Beach before she dropped into an exhausted sleep.
Unfortunately, nothing could have prepared her for the shock of opening her eyes, her mind still groggy from sleep and travel twenty hours later, and finding herself in Mac Brody’s home.
She couldn’t even remember that much about how she’d ended up in the enormous bedroom suite. After getting through the necessary ordeal of customs and passport control, she’d fallen straight back to sleep on the helicopter flight from LAX down to Laguna Beach. She vaguely recalled opening tired eyes during the journey and being wowed by the sight of the sun peeking over the Southern Californian coastline, then inhaling Mac’s tantalising scent and feeling his muscles bunching beneath her cheek as he’d carried her into the house, but that was about it.
She propped herself up on the huge fluffy pillows and stared out of the wall of glass at the far end of the room.
‘Good God.’
The whispered exclamation rang out above the sibilant purr of the air-conditioning.
Even spending time in Connor and Daisy’s magnificent home in Portobello had not prepared her for living in the lap of this sort of luxury. A wide bleached-stone terrace gave way to the brilliant blue of an infinity pool, its lush lagoonlike feel accentuated by a thicket of yucca palms and exotic potted plants.
Throwing off the coverlet, she scrambled across the thick woollen carpet to get a better look at the eye-popping view.
The house sat perched on a low cliff, the rugged, sundrenched coastline stretching away round the promontory to afford complete privacy. She placed her palms on the glass and gawped at what she could see of the metal and glass frontage of the house. Stretching onto her tiptoes, she spied the empty cove below the house accessed by a set of stone steps carved into the rocks. Lazy surf pounded onto sand so white it made her squint.
Her breath backed up in her lungs. Kubla Khan eat your heart out. Mac Brody’s pleasure dome beat Xanadu hands down.
Then she caught sight of her reflection in the glass. Dressed in a vest-top and a pair of simple white panties, she looked like a scrawny schoolgirl cast adrift in a sea of splendour. The ever-present blush heated her cheeks.
What was she doing here? She couldn’t have looked more out of place if she tried!
She took a deep breath. Eased it out slowly.
Calm down.
Staying here for two whole weeks was going to be the biggest adventure of her life. And if she was going to enjoy every second, she simply did not have time for a nervous breakdown.
She glanced back at the bed. Only her side had been slept in. She wondered where Mac had spent the night. She dismissed her disappointment. He’d probably been as exhausted as her. The few times she’d woken up during the flight he’d been busy working on his laptop, so he was no doubt catching up on his sleep. Or maybe he’d gone to work. Even with two weeks before his next project started, he might still have meetings and photo shoots and interviews and stuff like that to do. She doubted movie stars ever had very much free time and she didn’t intend to be some annoying little limpet constantly begging for his
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