He put his hand under her chin, and for one heart-stopping moment held her gaze. Then he leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips.
“Thank you,” he said, lifting his head.
“For?”
“Listening. Understanding.”
Her stomach fluttered like a butterfly’s wings. “I’m told I have a good ear for listening.”
He lifted a finger and ran it around her ear. “They’re beautiful ears. Perfect.” He placed his lips against it, then gently tugged at her lobe with this teeth.
She groaned as his lips began making their way down her throat. “Um—weren’t we going to the—”
Where were they going?
Oh yes.
“—Moomba Festival?” she finished.
“After.”
“After?” she murmured.
“After we make love.”
Regardless of the way Jarrod made love to her—with a passion that hadn’t diminished despite the numerous times he’d taken her in the last thirty-six hours—Briana didn’t deceive herself that anything had changed.
And obviously he’d thought the same. He certainly seemed in a hurry to dress and leave the room afterward, saying he had some work to do before they went to the festival. That was probably so, but she suspected he needed some time to himself. It wasn’t every day a man like him let a woman see his vulnerable side.
Still, she was relieved he had put up that wall of reserve again. It made her remember that the only reason they were together right now was the money.
So why fool herself that what she knew about him now made any difference? His dislike of the woman he thought she was hadn’t changed. He still put her in the same category as Marise—and as his mother.
Having met the older woman, Briana felt doubly insulted. She got out of bed, showered and dressed in one of the outfits Jarrod had bought in the casino. It was either that or put on yesterday’s clothes.
Then she left the bedroom and poured herself a much-needed cup of coffee. She was standing with her back against the black granite counter and sipping the hot liquid when Jarrod spoke from the doorway.
“You look great.”
She glanced up into his approving gaze. “Thanks,” she said somewhat sourly.
“I mean it,” he said, obviously sensing her withdrawal.
“I know.”
“And?”
“What do you want me to say, Jarrod? That I’ve been waiting all my life for you to come along and tell me how wonderful I look?”
His forehead creased in a deep scowl. “What’s the matter with you?”
She took a deep breath and told herself to take things easy. Okay, so nothing had changed, but then had she really wanted it to? Besides, if he wanted to consider her a money-hungry gold-digger, then nothing she said or did would change his mind.
She pasted on a sickly sweet smile. “How can there be anything wrong when everything is so right?”
He shot her a wry look. “Yes, I can see that,” he mocked, but there was also a guarded look in his eyes, as if he suspected she was feeling hurt because he’d shut her out after they’d made love.
Well, she wasn’t.
She placed her cup on the sink and tried to sound casual as she said, “I know it’s out of our way, but can we go to my apartment first? I’d like to get my camera so I can take some pictures of the festival.”
His eyes gave a flicker of surprise. “I have a camera you can use.”
“No, that’s fine. I’d prefer to use my own camera. It’s a very expensive one.”
“And you think mine isn’t?”
She conceded the point. “A camera’s a rather—personal thing.”
He scrutinized her response. “I never thought of it that way.” Then studied her further. “You like taking pictures, do you?”
All at once she felt uncomfortable. “It’s a change from being on the other side of the lens.”
He stared hard for a moment longer. “Give me five minutes, then I’ll be ready to go,” he said, and turned and walked into his study.
An hour later, they’d found a good vantage point along Swanston Street. The Moomba Festival was Australia’s biggest community festival and a Melbourne tradition for over fifty years, with firework shows, outdoor movies, the Moomba parade and lots of water-related activities on the Yarra River.
The parade was the highlight of the Moomba Festival and Melbourne families turned out in droves, creating a sea of color and excitement.
The celebrations continued in Alexandra Gardens and along the riverfront, with live entertainment, roving performers and water sports. Briana strolled next to Jarrod, clicking her camera whenever she saw something of interest. She particularly liked taking pictures of people’s faces when they were unaware of it. She loved to capture the wondrous expression of a child watching a magician, or the parents watching that child with such love on their faces.
“Don’t you get sick of people looking at you?” Jarrod asked after she’d taken a picture of a group of people who’d kicked off their shoes and were having dancing lessons.
She looked at him, startled. “Do they? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Everyone’s recognizing you.”
“Maybe it’s the camera. Maybe they think I’m someone important.”
“You are someone important.”
She laughed that aside. “Only to my father.”
He looked at her a moment or two, a rare, soft light entering his eyes.
Her heart skipped a beat. “What’s the matter?”
“You are.”
“Why?”
He gave a slight smile. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you.”
Just then someone jostled them and the moment was broken. She quickly glanced down and pretended to check a setting on the camera, his comment reminding her there never was going to be a “one day” for them.
When she looked up again, she trained her camera on some children having their faces painted. The thought that she and Jarrod were going their separate ways at the end of the month brought an unwelcome lump to her throat. Yet she didn’t want to feel even the slightest bit miserable about that. So why did she?
“Do you like being a model?” Jarrod asked as they continued their stroll in the sunshine.
She stumbled a little and he put his hand out to steady her. “That’s an odd question.” She could feel his warm, firm touch through her sleeve. “Why do you ask?”
“You seem to have quite a talent behind the camera.”
She was surprised by his perception. “Thank you. I enjoy it.”
“Perhaps it’ll turn into more than a hobby.”
“Perhaps,” she agreed in a noncommittal voice, and moved to take another photograph, making Jarrod drop his hand from her arm. She felt awkward, being unused to sharing her dream with anyone. Not even Patrick had noticed her talent for taking pictures. He’d been too busy complaining she had been ignoring him.
Just then she spied a vendor selling hot dogs, and her