CHAPTER TWO
Aiden stared regretfully at Devon. It had been a while since he’d been stupid enough to let his libido rule his head but after the press conference he’d felt out of sorts, thanks to all that talk about his father. Not wanting to spend yet another evening at home with his own thoughts he’d accepted the dimpled blonde’s invitation.
This morning he regretted it. Devon was talking about meeting up again, when all he wanted to do was push her out and get on with his day. He had a plane to catch. The first race of the season was just over a week away, in Melbourne, and he really, really needed to get his head into the right place.
‘Look, Devon, we’ve been through this. What we had last night was great sex. Please don’t start thinking it was anything more.’
‘But you enjoyed it, didn’t you?’
Her lips came together in what he guessed was meant to be a sexy pout, though to be honest she reminded him a little of a hungry goldfish.
‘Of course I did, but I enjoy lots of things, like white water rafting and surfing. It doesn’t mean I want to do them every day.’
He tried to soften his words by kissing her on the cheek but she lurched away from him, her eyes flashing with temper. Thankfully whatever outburst she was about to have was curtailed by the sound of his intercom.
With a shrug of apology, he went to answer it. ‘Hello?’
‘Aiden, it’s Melanie. We have an eleven o’clock?’
Bugger. He’d totally forgotten. ‘Sure, come right up.’ At least now he had an excuse to get rid of Devon.
He turned to find the blonde putting on her strappy stilettoes with tight, jerky movements. ‘Devon, I’m sorry, but I’ve got a meeting with the Delta press officer now, so I need you to go.’
‘And that’s it, is it?’ she asked, standing so she could glare at him eyeball to eyeball. ‘I was just a cheap shag?’
The remark was so close to the bone, Aiden winced. She had a right to be angry with him. Sure he’d made no promises, but a woman was entitled to think a man who took her to bed was at least interested enough to see her again.
Clasping her hand in his, he twined his fingers around hers. ‘No, you weren’t a cheap shag. You were a beautiful way to spend an evening. If you get to one of the races, maybe I can buy you a drink.’
‘I’ll be in Melbourne,’ she admitted.
‘Your magazine is sending you all the way to Australia?’ he asked in disbelief, certain she was winding him up. ‘There’ll be plenty of other races far closer to home.’
‘I know, but we’re running a series of articles on young Australian fashion designers so I’m mainly going for that.’ She looked up at him hopefully, smiling as if he’d just promised her a dream holiday instead of the shallow offer of a drink. ‘So, can we meet up?’
He felt a rush of shame. This was the absolute last time he was sleeping with a woman he had no intention of seeing again. ‘Look, I’m going to be a bit busy, it being the first race of the season. I can’t make any promises.’
A sharp knock on his door indicated the press officer’s arrival and, with great relief, Aiden went to let her in.
‘Hi, sorry I’m a bit late, the traffic getting into London was hellish and …’ Melanie trailed off as she caught sight of Devon. ‘It looks like my being late was a blessing in disguise.’
Awkwardly Aiden made the introductions. ‘Devon writes for the Ladies Only magazine—’
‘Just for Ladies,’ Devon interjected, rolling her eyes at him.
Melanie gave the blonde a guarded smile. ‘Hello, I’m Melanie, one of the Delta press officers. I take it you’ve just interviewed Aiden for a piece in your magazine?’
As the women shook hands, Aiden squirmed silently, wondering what the heck Melanie was up to. She knew damn well Devon hadn’t spent the night interviewing him.
Devon let out a flustered sounding laugh. ‘To be honest, we haven’t got round to the interview yet.’
‘But we’ll try and catch up in Melbourne,’ Aiden finished firmly, desperate to take control before the whole fiasco blew up in his face. ‘Thanks for coming by Devon.’ He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. ‘I’ll see you around.’
Ignoring her miffed expression, he all but pushed her out of the door.
Behind him, Melanie coughed. ‘I take it you got what you wanted out of that particular interview?’
He turned to find her staring at him, pretty hazel eyes filled with an emotion that looked a lot like disappointment. As he wasn’t particularly pleased with his own behaviour, he really didn’t need the sharp edge of her disapproval. ‘Yes, thanks,’ he replied tersely.
For a second she looked wounded, and instantly he regretted taking his self-disgust out on her. Fixing a smile on his face he motioned over to his large cream sofa. ‘Please, take a seat.’
She nodded coolly – he didn’t blame her for the attitude – and he studied her as she went to sit down. Again she was wearing a pair of nondescript trousers and utilitarian blouse – he couldn’t remember ever seeing her in anything else. If he had to guess he’d say they probably hid a really neat figure, which made it all the more confusing why she chose to downplay her looks. Either she was an absolute sex bomb outside work, or she was … what? Too scared to put herself out there?
‘Can I get you something to drink?’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Eat?’
A small smile hovered around lips that were full and pink but unadorned with lipstick. ‘Well, if you’re offering, a lightly whipped omelette with salad garnish would go down a treat.’
Relieved she wasn’t going to give him a hard time over his shitty behaviour, he relaxed enough to laugh. ‘Ah, you have me there. I can boil a kettle to make you a cup of instant coffee, or crack open a pack of chocolate biscuits. The omelette is outside my skillset, I’m afraid, whipped or not.’
She cocked her head to one side and seemed to consider him. ‘How about a cup of tea and a chocolate digestive?’
‘That, I can manage.’
Mel was relieved when Aiden disappeared into his kitchen. It gave her a chance to get her head around what she’d just seen. She thought they’d been joking when they’d talked about him seeing the blonde journalist, so it was one heck of a shock to find he’d done exactly what they’d laughed about – had a meaningless one night stand with a woman who’d come on to him at a press conference. She felt oddly let down. She’d been hoping to find there was more to the man than the flip persona he presented to the press.
Sighing at her foolishness, she placed her bag on the floor by her feet and sank back into the expensive leather sofa. It was hard for women not to like Aiden Foster. Even she – used to being around racing drivers so much she was supposedly unfazed by them – had to admit when it came to Aiden, she was no different to the rest. How could she be when the man had film star looks, charisma, a dry, playful, sense of humour and a swagger just the right side of arrogant?
So, yes, like millions of women round the globe she, too, had a crush on him. It was the reason she was now sitting here feeling so desperately disappointed. Aiden Foster was exactly the playboy the media purported him to be.
‘One cup of tea.’ He sauntered back in and planted a snazzy black and white mug directly onto the glass coffee table. ‘Plus biscuits.’ With a flourish he produced a white china plate containing several chocolate biscuits of various types, all neatly laid out.
He went to sit on the opposite sofa, casually crossing one barefooted, jean clad leg over the other and Mel found she couldn’t stop looking at his feet. Long and narrow, they were actually pretty sexy …
‘So, you’re here to discuss my image, huh?’
She dragged her gaze from his feet, past his slightly crumpled white shirt and up to his face with its flashing cheekbones and mesmerising grey eyes. It certainly was quite an image. Taking a gulp of tea she pushed her brain out of fan mode and into professional press officer. ‘It’s not your image I wanted to talk about. Delta have no issue with it and it would seem you have no problem living up to it,’ she couldn’t resist adding.
There was a subtle stiffening in his body language. ‘I presume that’s a veiled reference to finding Devon here when you arrived?’
‘It was and you’re right to glare at me. It’s none of my business.’
‘True, so why do I get the feeling you’re annoyed with me?’
‘I’m not annoyed,’ she corrected him. ‘Not really. I guess, I just … I know it sounds silly, but I was hoping you’d be one of the good guys. A racing driver who’s more than just a walking penis.’
His sharp, startled laugh filled the quiet room. ‘Did you really just say penis?’
‘Why, should I have used another word instead?’
‘No, please. Penis is fine.’ He laughed again, softer this time. ‘Now there’s a sentence I never thought I’d say. So, tell me, is that all you think I am? A man who likes to drive fast cars and have sex?’
‘I’m sure there are a lot more strings to your bow. I mean, you made me a cup of tea, so there’s one, for a start.’
‘And now you’re just trying to avoid the question.’
He was right, and though she spent a lot of her working life advising people how to skate round a difficult question, it didn’t seem fair to avoid this one. Not when she’d been the one to bring it up.
‘Truthfully, I don’t know you, so I can’t comment, but I think that’s part of the problem. You don’t allow anyone to know you, so we’re left to speculate. Draw obvious conclusions from what we can see, like the fact that we rarely see you with the same woman twice. You’re very good at giving interviews, always smooth and charming, but your answers don’t actually say anything about you. The man behind the sexy driver.’
‘So now I’ve got a penis and I’m sexy,’ he drawled. ‘It’s getting better.’
She began to laugh, but halted when she realised what he was doing. ‘That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Once again you cleverly tried to divert the conversation with a quip, a line. Anything that means you don’t have to talk about you.’
‘Maybe that’s the way I prefer it.’
‘Which is fine, but unfortunately that attitude doesn’t help when you’re working with the media. If they’re left with a lot of gaps, they tend to fill them in their own way. Hence my comment about the walking penis. It might sound like a joke, but that’s how some of the press refer to you. From what I’ve seen from archived interviews, your father had a very different style. He tended to wear his heart on his sleeve—’
‘I’m not my father,’ he cut in, his cool grey eyes now glacial. ‘Don’t compare me to him. Please.’
So she hadn’t just imagined it at the last press conference. It seemed he did have a huge chip on his shoulder with his father’s name engraved on it.
‘I guess you get pretty fed up with people doing that, don’t you?’ she asked softly.
A muscle twitched in his jaw. ‘Yes.’
‘Did the pair of you get on?’
His lids lowered over those stunning eyes. ‘My father was a risk-taker, a hellraiser and the best driver of his generation. What’s not to get on with?’
Frustration coiled in her belly at his obvious fob off but there were times to push and times to stop. This was the latter.
‘Okay, have it your way, but you’re going to have to get used to a lot of questions about him.’
‘You think that’s a change from the normal?’ He threw her a casual smile though the gesture was ruined by the clenched muscle in his jawline.
‘I’m well aware you’re used to fielding questions about your father, but now you’ve joined his old team, the interest in that relationship is only going to escalate. I’ve been bombarded with interview requests since the announcement was made.’
‘You must be really cursing my arrival then, huh?’
An image flashed through her mind of her and Sally, the other press officer, jigging up and down with glee when they’d been told of Aiden’s signing. ‘Not at all. It actually makes my job easier when people come to me wanting interviews rather than the other way around.’ Reaching into her folder, she passed him a sheet of neatly typed paper. ‘And that’s what I came here to discuss with you. I’ve drawn up a list of interviews scheduled for the next few months. They’ll take place mainly after test sessions or practice sessions. I know it’s a bit of a bind—’
‘It’s fine,’ he cut in, not even glancing at the piece of paper.
Because he still appeared tense, she tried to lighten the mood. ‘I can’t guarantee all the journalists will be hot-looking blondes, but I’ll do my best.’
Instantly he was on his feet, swiping a hand through his hair. It sprang back, making him look rumpled and more sexy than she wanted him to be. ‘Look, Devon was a mistake, I admit it. Despite what you’re thinking, I don’t make a habit of hooking up with women in that way.’ His chest rose and fell as he sighed. ‘At least I don’t any more.’
She sensed the anger was directed at himself rather than her but still, annoying their star driver wasn’t going to help her do her job. ‘I’m sure you don’t make a habit of it,’ she placated. ‘Even if you did, as I’ve already said, it really is none of my business so please, just ignore me. You’d be amazed how many people find that’s pretty easy to do.’
Melanie gave him a small smile and Aiden calmed down enough to study her. She did look quiet, like he imagined a librarian might look if he’d ever ventured inside such a place. Appearances could be deceptive though, and he had a strong feeling this press officer would be impossible to ignore. She seemed to have a way of seeing past the facade and right into the core of a person. Heck, she’d already worked out he hadn’t got on with his father. Nobody else had ever made that connection.
It made him wish even more he hadn’t invited Devon over last night. Bad enough disappointing himself, but for some reason he found disappointing his fresh-faced press officer even harder to stomach.
‘Anyway, back to the interviews.’ Her eyes flitted away from his gaze and down to her notes, allowing Aiden to continue his study. Her hair was a deep chocolate brown with curls that struggled to be contained in the haphazard ponytail she usually shoved it into. What with that and her make-up free face, Aiden reckoned she must have spent all of two minutes getting dressed this morning.
‘Your first interview is scheduled to take place after the Malaysian Grand Prix,’ she told him, following her statement with an apologetic smile. ‘It’s with a guy from Motorsport magazine who was insistent that he wanted to explore what it was like for you following in your father’s footsteps and coming to Delta. Consider yourself duly warned.’
He covered his unease with a wry smile. ‘Duly noted.’
She smiled back and he realised he liked making her smile, enjoying the way her brown eyes warmed and her dimples winked. All too quickly her eyes focused back on her notepad. He tried to pretend that he cared as she talked through the rest of her list.
‘Well, that’s all I have for now.’ She closed her notepad and tucked it into her oversized brown handbag.
Small animals, maybe even small children, could probably live in there quite happily without ever needing to see the light of day.
The thought must have made him grin because she halted in the process of heaving the bag onto her shoulder and eyed him suspiciously. ‘What are you smiling at?’
His lips twitched. ‘Nothing.’
Her glance turned into a glare. ‘It might have been only a month since you joined the team, but I know you, Aiden Foster. You reserve most of your smiles for when you’re in front of the cameras, so to be smiling now you must have found something really funny.’
That successfully wiped the smirk off his face. ‘What do you mean by that?’
She chewed on her bottom lip. ‘You mean the bit about what you found funny, or …’
‘The bit about me being a grumpy git?’
Her cheeks reddened slightly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I have a tendency to speak what’s on my mind without filtering it first, which probably isn’t an ideal trait for someone in my role.’ Her fingers fiddled with the straps of her bag which she still hadn’t put on her shoulder. ‘It’s been an observation of mine that … well … maybe Aiden Foster the racing driver and Aiden Foster the man aren’t quite the same person.’
He stilled, surprised … no, more than that, shocked. ‘How do they differ?’
She was still finding it hard to meet his eyes. ‘Well, I guess Aiden Foster the driver is charming, funny, laid-back and a bit of a womaniser.’
He could live with all of those. ‘And the man?’
Shaking her head, she finally looked at him. ‘I don’t know. He keeps himself very hidden, but I think he’s much more serious.’
Her ability to see through him made the hairs on the back of his neck start to prickle. ‘So you don’t think I can be funny and charming without a camera lens being poked into my face?’ He raised his eyes in mock despair. ‘And there was me thinking you liked me.’
‘I think both of you can be charming, and, yes, even though I’m sure it doesn’t matter to you, I do actually like you.’
Having dropped her bombshells she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and made her way towards the door. For a few seconds he remained rooted to the spot, trying to assimilate everything she’d just said. It was only when her struggles with the door resulted in a muted curse that he was finally knocked out of his trance sufficiently to open it for her.
She gave him the full dose of her pretty eyes. ‘Thank you. You know I actually think I’d prefer the real Aiden Foster, if he ever dares to come out and show himself.’
With that she slipped out. He was left staring at her small, retreating figure as it walked towards the lift, his mouth slightly agape, probably resembling a ruddy carp.
At least he hadn’t had to tell her he’d been laughing at her handbag, he mused as he finally shut the door. Mind you, considering the psychoanalysis she’d subjected him to instead, that might have been a blessing.
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