Christmas with the Maverick Millionaire

All her reservations were practically on display. She hadn’t pulled her hand away, but he knew she was currently questioning his motivation. Was he interested in her or the tour?

Both. He wanted to say the words out loud. But didn’t want to see a glimmer of hurt in her eyes.

She tried to paste a smile on her face. It pained him. With Sam, he was used to the smile lighting up her eyes, but this time it wasn’t there.

‘Well, I guess it’s time for me to see you rehearse.’

‘What do you mean?’

She shrugged. ‘We’ve already spoken about this. Keeping your diabetes under control in everyday life is different from performing on stage. I need to see you rehearse. I need to see how much energy you use up and the effect on your blood-sugar levels. That way, we can tailor what you eat and how much insulin you take before you do a show.’

Everything she said made sense. He knew that it did. But it didn’t stop his stomach from churning. That little element of not being in control. He wanted to wave all this off and just say he would be fine.

He’d be even happier if Samantha thought that too. But it was quite clear she didn’t.

She bit her bottom lip. He could tell she wouldn’t be moved on this. She wouldn’t compromise her professional integrity no matter how much he flirted with her or tried to keep her onside.

He tightened his grip on her fingers, giving them a little squeeze. ‘And if we practise and everything’s fine, you’ll tell the insurance company?’

She pulled her fingers out of his grasp. Her voice was steady. ‘If everything is fine, I’ll say so. But if I have concerns, I’ll also let them know. I’m not going to lie for you, Mitch.’ There was the tiniest waver in her voice. As if she was struggling with being put in this position.

That was his fault. If Samantha was just his nurse, she wouldn’t struggle with this at all. She’d be professional through and through. But he’d crossed the line, he’d kissed her, and that had messed with both of their emotions. Including the ones that were currently building in his chest.

‘I don’t expect you to lie for me.’ The words came out angrier than he’d meant them to. But the truth was he did want her to lie for him. He wanted her to assure the insurance company that there was nothing to worry about and the tour was safe.

There was no question about his ability to perform. The only question was whether he’d make it to the end of each night.

‘How many rehearsals?’

‘It would be best if we could do at least three nights in a row. Could that work?’

He sat back in his chair and took a deep breath. ‘There’s an old aircraft hangar near here. It’s what we’ve used before for rehearsals.’ He shook his head. ‘The rest of the band are home for their holidays. I can’t ask them to come back. But there’s no reason we can’t do the full rehearsal in the hangar.’ He shrugged. ‘I can play the guitar and sing as normal.’ He gave her a little smile. ‘There just won’t be any screaming fans around us.’

She nodded slowly. ‘What time do you normally do a gig?’

‘Around nine o’clock at night. Why? Is it important?’

‘Very. We need to do your rehearsal at the same time of day you’ll actually be performing. On a performance day you’ll burn up calories and carbohydrate at a different rate, at different times. After the performance we’ll need to monitor your blood sugar late that night and the next morning. We don’t want you to go home and hypo.’

He could feel a flicker of irritation. Why did things have to be so regimented? Sometimes after a gig he liked to party, sometimes he liked to chill out with the rest of the band and have a few beers. Sometimes his adrenaline was buzzing so hard it was hours before he could sleep. Would her strict inventory allow for that?

He sighed. Loudly. Frustration was just bubbling under the surface.

He was staring out of the window, watching as the garlands across the street flickered into a burst of colourful lights, one after the other.

He was conscious of her staring at him, running her fingers through her blonde curls and then lowering her head.

‘You can be as mad as you like, Mitchell.’ She’d started eating her chocolate cake again as if it was the most natural thing in the world. ‘It doesn’t change the fact that you’re diabetic and I am your nurse.’ She sipped at her rich coffee, smiling as it slid down her throat. ‘You forget. I’m used to teenage tantrums.’ She bit into a rich blob of cake and cream and raised her eyebrows. ‘A rock-star temper tantrum is nothing to me.’ A smile crept across her face as she shrugged. ‘I can wait it out.’

She folded her arms across her chest and sat back in her chair.

He couldn’t help the way the feelings of pleasure started to creep across his skin. Being in Sam’s company was almost certainly becoming addictive. She could dissipate his frustration and anger in only a few words. No one else had ever been able to do that for him.

He grinned as she licked the last remnants of chocolate from the spoon. ‘You’re just trying to drive me crazy, aren’t you?’

She raised her eyebrows suggestively as she took her last lick. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Mitch.’

Sure she did. Because every time their flirtation went down that road she got that crazy little twinkle in her eye. If he could bottle and sell it, he could easily fund the hospital from now to eternity.

‘You could have timed things a little better.’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘What do you mean?’

He held out his arms. ‘Look around you. We’re in the middle of the festive season here. In three days’ time it’s Christmas Eve. Do you think I’ll be able to book the hangar at nine o’clock on Christmas Eve? Who is going to want to work then?’

She shrugged. ‘Who else do we need Mitch? Can’t you flick an electrical switch to turn the power on? It’s not like we have anything else to do.’ As she said the words she looked up at him through lowered lids. ‘It doesn’t need to be anyone else but us.’

Oh, he could think of a whole host of other things to do. Rockets were currently firing through his veins. Mitchell Brody was known for being cool. But that was the last thing he was feeling right now.

He leaned over the table towards her, catching a waft of her perfume. ‘You’re right. It doesn’t need to be anyone else but us.’

Her eyes locked with his. There it was. The unspoken implication. Made by both of them. He didn’t have a single doubt they were on the same wavelength. There was no way he was reading this wrong.

He stood up and held out his hand towards her. ‘Come on. We’ll have a look around the rest of the shops before we head home.’ She nodded and pushed her arms into her jacket. ‘We won’t have time tomorrow,’ he added.

And there it was. Her sexy little smile appearing on her face once again. She put her hand in his. ‘Sure, let’s window-shop a little more.’ She moved ahead of him, giving him his favourite view of her backside in figure-hugging jeans. She glanced over her shoulder at him as they approached the door. ‘There are some things I just don’t want to miss.’

CHAPTER TEN

TWO NIGHTS. TWO NIGHTS in a dark aircraft hangar with thudding music and ice cold air.

Only the air around them didn’t seem that cold. The temperature between them was positively rising.

Watching Mitchell Brody thrash about the stage, singing his heart out, was igniting a whole new fire inside her.

There was something so primal about it. To all intents and purposes, when Mitch was on the stage he was as exposed as he’d ever be.

They’d fallen into an easy routine. He skied in the morning, they visited the hospital in the afternoon, had dinner together, then headed to rehearsals.

Only it wasn’t so easy.

He’d hypoed a few times in the l

ast two days, all because of the amount of energy he’d been expending. She’d reduced his insulin doses carefully, but each hypo had been another opportunity for amorous Mitchell to appear. They’d headed off the hypos quickly. He was recognising the symptoms as easily as she was. But the flirtations between them were making her internal temperature soar.

It all seemed to heading somewhere, she just wasn’t quite sure where.

* * *

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Yesterday afternoon she’d felt bold. She’d felt flirtatious. But the whole of today her stomach had been doing flip-flops.

Mitch was as cool as ever, cooking them a late breakfast then spending the time he always did down at the hospital. Christmas Eve in the hospital was magical. Even the sickest kids were excited.