“So that’s it? One shag and done?” It wasn’t lost on him that he sounded a lot like some of the women he had shagged in the past.
Jaxxon veiled the relief she felt at hearing that he hadn’t had just a one-off shag in mind, it was going to take more than the one time to rid him from her system. But she couldn’t let him see that weakness. Connor was, essentially, a predator. Predators and weaknesses did not mix well. She maintained her casual air. “Alright, look, I’ve got a lot on at the minute but I don’t see why we can’t get together again. Phone me.” With that she snatched the door from his grasp, banged it shut and drove off without a second look. It was the only way to keep herself safe – she couldn’t let anyone in, especially not Connor McKenzie.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Not bad, McKenzie,” repeated Anna, shocked. “Oh, Jaxxon, you didn’t.” It had been days since she had last seen Jaxxon and she been waiting desperately for the scoop. Whatever she had expected to hear, it wasn’t that Jaxxon decided to have a rendezvous at night time in a wooded area. Brilliant. But ‘Not bad, McKenzie’…Dear God.
“For all I knew one shag was all he was after,” said Jaxxon defensively, swinging Bronty’s lead in the humid air. The dumb dog was fascinated with a pine comb at the moment. Each time she walked him in the park she became more and more concerned by the fact that her dog didn’t seem to do anything typical of canines. He didn’t go round pissing and shitting, marking his territory. He didn’t sniff everyone and everything he came into contact with. He didn’t try to chase other animals. It was almost as though he had no innate instincts that told him how to behave. “I thought I’d play it casual so it was painless for both of us to walk off.” It would never be truly painless for her though. She knew that for sure Wednesday night.
“I guess I see your point. But ‘Not bad, McKenzie’.”
“At least I commented on the shag. All he did was pounce on the idea of me walking off after just the one time. He sounded like a girl to be quite honest. I don’t think I’ve ever met a bloke who minded being used for sex.”
“So what does that tell you?”
She knew what Anna was getting at, but Jaxxon was smart enough to know that Connor would never want more than what they had now – which was very little. “That his ego is too sensitive.”
Anna shook her head, smiling. If only Jaxxon could see her own worth instead of viewing herself as a moody bitch, Anna might have a shot at convincing her of what she herself believed: Connor McKenzie would never let her go, even if he didn’t realise it himself yet. “When are you seeing him next?”
Tingles abruptly scurried along Jaxxon’s spine. The nape of her neck felt itchy. Someone was watching her. Just like when she went shopping with Anna that time, it felt wrong. Like the gaze was sending a bad vibe. Still managing to hold onto the thread of the conversation, she replied while scanning her surroundings, “I told him to phone me.” There were people around the park but no one who gave her cause to look twice. Was she getting paranoid?
“He’s a bloke so that could take days. They like to play it cool so they don’t seem desperate, as if the way they ravish us when they do see us doesn’t tell us differently!” They both winced as Bronty tried to eat a bee. “Do you fancy trying that new bar, ‘Frankie’s’, later?” When Jaxxon groaned she added, “Come on, we never hit any bars last weekend.”
“Only because we went to the charity event.”
A loud bark-growl had them both jerking around. Jaxxon felt her eyebrows shoot up as she found Bronty in the kind of pouncing position expectant of a lion, glaring at a bloke who – judging by his attire – was a jogger. She could only guess that the bloke had given Bronty a fright when he sprung out of the trees onto their path. “Bronty, you daft sod. Sorry,” she told the jogger when she approached. “He’s a bit odd to tell you the truth.”
“I-it’s, er, alright, he’s just, er, protecting his mistress.”
Jaxxon gave Bronty, who hadn’t moved a muscle, a little shove. “Oi, snap out of it. And stop posing like that.” She looked at Anna. “Do you think he knows he’s a dog?” Anna was too busy staring open-mouthed at the jogger to answer. Jaxxon knew that look and what it meant. It wasn’t unusual for celebs to stroll about this park. But damned if Jaxxon could recognise him. She again took in his athletic build, his dark eyes, his high cheekbones and tousled dark hair. She also took in the fact that he didn’t have an ounce of sweat on him, which was surely odd for someone jogging around, especially in this heat. And then there was the look on his face…He seemed nervous. Had the look of someone who’d known exactly what they wanted to say but been put off. Like stagefright.
“Alright, well, bye.” She took a frozen Anna by the arm and guided her away. The bloke did start jogging then. Yes, she was being paranoid.
“Now that is one divine man,” said Anna, finally back to Earth.
“Who is he?”
Anna looked at her like she was loopy. “That’s Luke Winston.” Jaxxon looked none the wiser. “Don’t you know who Luke Winston is?”
Jaxxon shook her head. “He looks a bit familiar.”
“So he should. He was in a boy-band when he was younger and now he’s an actor. Doesn’t he have the most gorgeous arse!”
No, Connor does¸ thought Jaxxon. Alright, whoa, where the hell did that come from? She really did not want to end up in the state of mind where she compared and contrasted every bloke she met against Connor. For one thing, that would make her a very sad individual. Also, she knew perfectly well that no one would ever measure up to him. No one ever had in the past eight years, and that was before they’d even shagged – and what a bloody good shag it had been. She would be destined to life as a spinster. Not going to happen. Yes, a night out where loud music could drown out her thoughts would do her the world of good.
Connor’s muscles ached deliciously after his work-out. And so they should. He’d spent longer hours than usual at the gym; practically abusing the exercise bike, the rowing machine and the specially designed weights that helped develop the muscles required to withstand the g-forces and racing conditions. It might look like all an F1 driver had to do was sit on their arse and steer, but there was more to it than that.