Chapter Five

Xaria closed the door behind her. She’d been on her way out when she smelled the exact scent she had the pleasure of inhaling when she’d been with the handsome Aidrian O’Shea. Stepping back into her room, she didn’t want him to see her and misinterpret her appearance.

Still, when he’d walked into view, she couldn’t stop the gasp or the wave of jealousy that had filled her upon seeing him holding a slim woman in his arms. His shirt was unbuttoned and she’d caught a glimpse of the rock-hard chest that lay beneath it. The woman in his arms was snuggled up against it.

He’d looked so virile, so masculine, and so fucking hot as he strode down the hall. In one hand he had a bucket of ice, and Xaria had shaken her head as he opened a door and both of them disappeared into the dark room.

“No surprise as to what they are doing.” Xaria was shocked at her own bitterness. But she hadn’t seen a ring on his hand and she didn’t understand her own reaction. So instead of leaving her room, she chose to stay in.

She spent a restless night as the image of a man she hardly knew floated around in her head. The man who’d stood before her in the lobby had been tall and proud. His dark skin had shone almost black in the hotel lighting that had seemed to bounce off his shaved head, and his eyes had been as black as the nights in Antarctica. He had a flat nose above full lips, and a clean-shaven square jaw that bespoke of stubbornness and determination. Most of the men she was around had facial hair for added warmth in the cold weather.

And then he spoke with an Irish accent. It was charming. It was sexy. It was damn sexy.

When she awoke the next morning, she wasn’t in a good mood. “I just need a good workout,” she told her haggard reflection as she got dressed.

Entering the gym, she looked around. Movement on the treadmill grabbed her attention. Xaria looked over to her left, doing a double take. It was Aidrian O’Shea.

The man was running on the machine, a fine sheen of sweat covering his body. He wore a pair of workout pants and a cutoff tee shirt that allowed her to see the massive muscles in his arms. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him anywhere and she’d never seen arms so defined.

Deciding to go to the leg press so she could still watch him, Xaria went left. What the hell is wrong with me? She stretched and then sat down on the machine to begin her workout.

Xaria had been lost in her movements so when she looked back up, her eyes narrowed in anger. A stunning black woman stood beside Aidrian and they were talking as he drank some water. Her stomach flipped as he flashed that woman a smile and leaned down to whisper something in her ear. He had a brilliant smile and the way his teeth stood out against the darkness of his skin made Xaria’s mind go down roads it shouldn’t.

So you’re a player, Mr. O’Shea. Figures; all the good-looking men are.

Forcing her eyes closed, Xaria concentrated on completing her set. When she opened them again, she was treated to the sight of his firm backside as it moved away from her. Unfortunately, that same woman was with him and had her arm laced through his.

Aidrian had seen Xaria enter as he was on the treadmill. He’d watched her stretch in the mirror be-fore him and had continued to observe as she sat down at the leg press and began her workout. He’d been on his way over to talk to her, when a familiar voice had stopped him.

It was his sister, Affrica Semone O’Shea. She’d called him last night and said she was in Geelong for a day; so, he’d given her the name of his hotel and they’d decided to meet for breakfast. She’d showed up early and had come down to the weight room.

She went with him to his room and waited while he showered and dressed. Together, they headed down for breakfast. They were in the middle of their meal when he looked up and found Xaria entering the room.

“What has gotten your attention, Hondo?” his sister asked in Gaeilge, using his nickname he’d got-ten from the SEAL Team.

“Nothing,” he snapped in the same language, knowing how his sister could be. He loved her to death but she was a sister. ’Nuff said.

Too late, though, for her eyes had drifted over to where his had stopped and she let a low whistle go. “Ohhh, she’s cute. Who is she?”

“Affrica…” he warned.

Blowing him a kiss, she shrugged. “Fine, I’ll stay out of it.”

His onyx eyes narrowed. His sister never gave up that easily. “What are you up too?”

“Nothing.” She held up her hands in a surrendering gesture. “Don’t you trust me?”

“No.”

Sticking her tongue out at him, she teased, “Sure you don’t want to think about that a bit more?”

“What are you doing here in Geelong?” Aidrian asked, changing the subject.

“I’m just passing through. I’m going to Melbourne and then taking the train over to Perth.”

Leaning back in his chair, Aidrian crossed corded arms over his massive chest. “With whom?” He caught the small tensing of her body. “Affrica?” he ground out. “With whom?”

His sister refused to meet his gaze. She looked everywhere else except at him. Aidrian never budged. He knew he could outwait his sister. When she finally looked back at him, he had one eyebrow raised.

“Promise me you won’t be mad…” she began.

That eyebrow dropped and his eyes narrowed. “Whene’er you start a sentence with that, I know I’m not going to like your answer.” He clenched his jaw and rolled his shoulders, unaware of the intimidating picture he created.

“Promise me!” she squeaked.

“Affrica,” he warned. “Stop playing around and tell me.” Her silence and the fact she started worrying her lower lip with her teeth told him the answer. Sitting forward in the chair, he ran a hand over his face. “Tell me it’s not him…” His words were almost a beg.

Her face filled with sorrow as her black eyes looked down at the tablecloth. “I can’t,” she muttered.

Shoving back his chair, Aidrian rose in one motion. “Let’s go,” he commanded.

Affrica knew better than to push him when he got like this, so she stood immediately. She opened her mouth to speak but shut it at the expression he had on his face.

They strode through the dining area, the scowl on Aidrian’s face more than enough to keep people out of their way. As they entered the lobby, his eyes fell upon the woman who’d refused to help him.

“Wait one,” he ordered as his steps carried him away from his sister and closer to Xaria “Jötunn” Hummel. Aidrian never checked to see whether Affrica had listened to him; he just expected his order to be obeyed. And it was, for Affrica never moved.