The Price of Fame by Anne Oliver Read Free Book Online Page B

ribbon of surf along the coast as the aircraft began its descent into Nadi. Flynn had used her position in society to build connections, then tossed her aside.
    Little grey mouse
.
    She ground her teeth together as a patchwork of different greens came into view. Last night she’d proved she was confident and capable of being whoever she wanted to be. She should thank Flynn for the wake-up call.
    She watched the brown river snake below them—palm trees rippling in the afternoon breeze, hazy smoke spirals towards the bony ridges of distant highlands—and drew in a deep breath. New horizons and some time to blow away the cobwebs.
    She stepped out into the moist tropical air and followed her fellow passengers across the hot tarmac and into the terminal. Four locals in bright shirts with hibiscus flowers behind their ears welcomed them with white smiles and their pretty yellow banjos, dreamy island harmonies blending.
    ‘Bula!’
Welcome.
    ‘Vinaka.’
Thank you.
    Smiling at the pretty ground staff member in her
Sulu Jaba
, the traditional long skirt topped with a bright fitted dress, Charlotte headed for the baggage carousel and collected her luggage. She loved Fiji already. A place where she knew no one and no one knew her …
    That thought vanished with a sharp inhalation when she caught sight of a pair of broad shoulders encased in a familiar dark shirt near the carousel. Her heart jumped into her mouth and every muscle seemed to melt. She watched him pull his bag off the conveyor, bronzed forearms, muscles twisting.
    Nic.
    She couldn’t move, and against her will her eyes drank in the sight. His tall, tanned, testosterone-packed body, the long lanky stride as he walked towards Customs. What was he doing in Fiji? A connecting flight? Except he’d collected his luggage already.
    Conflicting emotions tore through her like a summer cyclone. The swoon effect of remembering that body naked and stretched over hers and the chill factor of realising he’d deliberately misled her about Hawaii. Heat flared like a furnace, burning her cheeks.
    She didn’t
want
to see him again. But her body had other ideas and called her a liar. Her breasts tingled with remembered pleasure, her inner thighs quivered with the memory of the warm dampness of his mouth there.
    No. Yes. No
. She really tried to look away but it was as if her eyes were pre-programmed to follow him. The one-off fantasy man she’d allowed herself to indulge in.
    Hadn’t he indulged in her too? Seemed, like her ex, he was also one of those smooth-talking rogues who knew how to seduce a woman and make it seem as if it was all
her
idea. She didn’t know how he’d managed it but he had.
    She proceeded through Customs keeping well behind him but damned if he wasn’t standing smack bang in front of the exit doors talking on his mobile when she emerged. How was she going to get past him? Or was that his intention?
    Then, as if sensing her watching—condemning—he looked over his shoulder and met her eyes, and she wished she’d turned away already because now it was too late, she was powerless against the pull.
    Not taking his eyes off her, he spoke to whoever he was talking with on the phone and disconnected. He started walking towards her.
    Was he
smiling
when he knew she didn’t want anything more to do with him? They’d had an arrangement, they’d said goodbye … No—she’d said goodbye, she remembered. He’d made a point of saying
au revoir
. She didn’t know how he’d found out her intended destination, but he’d
known
and he’d said nothing.
    Her head spun. Was he a reporter too and she’d just been totally made a fool of …?
    She was ready when he reached her. She was strong. She was cool. ‘What are you doing here?’
    He slung his backpack to the floor, all charm and smiles. ‘What one usually does here in Fiji—relax and enjoy.’
    ‘You lied to me.’
    His brow furrowed, those eyes all innocence. ‘Lied?’
    ‘You said you were going to