LITMIR.BIZ

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Sydney show. I’ve built up a following. People love my reports.’ She could talk as fast as a used-car salesmen, he’d give her that. She was engaging; she made you actually start to believe the drivel she was spouting. Her show was—at times—brilliant. But lately the content was getting too heavy. She’d actually cried on camera last week when interviewing some sex workers. Too emotional. Admittedly, she did seem to have a huge following if the comments on their Facebook page was anything to go by. Most people she came in contact with seemed to be under her spell. But he wasn’t most people.

      ‘It’s just sex, Faith.’

      Her eyes burned into him. He hadn’t noticed before but they weren’t brown as he’d thought they were. They were very, very dark blue. An unusual colour that reminded him of the ocean out at the front of his apartment late at night. As the wind blew and the waves fell against the cliffs.

      ‘There’s no such thing as “just sex”, Cash. Sex always means more than just sex.’

      Cash’s lip curled into a half-smile as he watched her determined face. Once upon a time he’d thought sex was more than just sex. When he was much younger. But now he knew better. Sex was just sex. His mind snapped back; he didn’t want to even think about what else sex could be.

      ‘No. Sex is sex. It’s a physical union between two people who find themselves horny and in the same place at the same time.’

      Her lips opened to form an O. Pink, full lips. He sucked in his bottom lip and shifted. He liked to tease her. Her creamy white English skin always turned a delightful shade of pink when he teased her. But he hadn’t noticed how full her lips were before.

      ‘You really believe that, don’t you? You really think sex is just sex?’ Her eyes flashed.

      ‘Yes. I really believe that.’ He knew the truth. Love didn’t exist. Lust, mutual attraction—that was what he believed in. And lust had caused him absolutely no pain the last nine years so he was sticking with it. ‘It’s time you let it go, Faith. Find something else. Move on. You never know—you might find something you’re really good at. Current affairs maybe?’

      ‘I’m really good at sex!’ Her voice rang out at the precise moment everyone got off the phone and paused. Her eyes opened wide, and she turned a shade of beetroot, horrified, as a couple of the jokers who were supposed to be working laughed.

      She turned away and bustled with her things. Heat rose in his face. She’d have to learn to toughen up if she wanted to work in this industry. He’d suffered rejection, ridicule and censure every day and if she was going to survive, she’d have to stop blushing and fumbling every time she got embarrassed.

      He didn’t want her to give up. This station was riddled with idiots. That was why it was in trouble. That was why they’d called him back over here. Faith was one of the few he wanted to keep on. But she had to step up. He moved closer and decided it was time he made her step up. He didn’t want her to give up, so he did the only thing he could do: threw her right in the deep end and watched to see if she could swim.

      When Cash leaned down, his mouth was perilously close to Faith’s earlobe. She breathed in. He smelled delicious. Heady, warm and sexy. When he finally spoke it came out deep and rough in the broad, abrasive accent he used when he was angry. ‘As your station manager, I insist you prove that statement to me.’ But he wasn’t angry. He was...something else.

      Faith’s heart beat in her chest. Being this close was not something she was used to. And not just close to Cash. She actually didn’t get this close to men in general. As a rule. Which was probably why her heart was pounding and a bead of sweat formed on her forehead. He’d find out. If he dug too deep—he’d realise her secret.

      ‘That is sexual harassment, Mr Anderson.’

      Cash stilled. His eyes flicked to hers. There was no smile present on his face any more. He moved back a little. She felt the coldness of his look as it swept over her face.

      ‘If I wanted to sexually harass you, Harris, I’d do it properly. On top of my desk. With you screaming my name.’

      His eyes went hard, which was helping to slow down Faith’s rapid heartbeat. He was still too close. Way too close and she needed him to step back. And now he was suggesting doing something she hadn’t done in so long. With anyone—let alone a tall, handsome, gruff man who was trying to get rid of her.

      Everything in her body throbbed. This had gone too far. She had to leave. For no other reason than she was actually considering what it would feel like to have sex on the desk with Cash. Multiple times. Using every Kama Sutra position in the book. And possibly some that weren’t even in there. One after the other after the other after the other...

      Faith mentally shook her head and pursed her lips together. She was a professional. She knew what this was—a man using his sexuality to get what he wanted. She’d read about that. She’d also read that those types of men wouldn’t take no for an answer. You had to show those types who was boss—apparently.

      ‘If you had any idea what I actually did every day, Cash, you’d realise that what I do is valuable.’ She lifted her chin and put on her poshest London accent, trying desperately not to broaden her vowels. ‘You’d realise how important my segment is to the Australian people and to this station.’

      ‘All right, then.’ He finally stepped back.

      ‘What?’ Confused, she tried to meet his eyes but he’d taken them off her and was now undoing the buttons at his wrists. He started rolling up his sleeves, revealing a set of thick tanned forearms. Lined with slightly bulging veins, she noticed absently before dragging her eyes off them and back to his.

      ‘Show me what you do. Show me how your work is relevant. Prove to me that sex is not just sex and I’ll keep your show on.’

      ‘Prove it to you?’

      ‘Yes. Show me Sexy Sydney. Teach me what you know. Convert me and you can stay on.’

      Convert him? The man who thought sex was just sex? The man who—at last count—had been connected with over twenty high-profile women since he’d arrived back onto Australian shores four weeks ago? That was impossible. But it was her only chance to stay. So she grabbed it.

      ‘Fine. Be ready at six in the morning. I’ll pick you up.’

      ‘Great. Gives me time for my morning surf.’ He smiled and for once that smile didn’t make her feel like trusting him. This smile looked more like that of a great white shark. All interlocking white teeth, hungry for some flesh. The beating of war drums sounded deep in her gut. This battle would be to the death. The only way to keep her show and her dream alive was to win—and this time she’d have to go all the way.

      THREE

      Sydney looked different at six a.m. Quiet. Coiled, like a spring waiting to be let go and bounce crazily all over the place. When Faith had moved here two years ago it had seemed so foreign and strange. Everything was bright and sunny and sparkling. The people smiled too much. People in Australia worked to live rather than lived to work. It took a lot of getting used to. Sometimes it irritated her. She sometimes wished people would be a little more serious—a bit more ambitious, more like her. But as the sun bounced from the waves of the water onto the ferries that took people from work to the bars and restaurants and clubs that surrounded the harbour, she could admit that Sydney was growing on her.

      What she loved the most was that it was a place where anything went. Where nothing was taboo. Where you could see a man dressed as a woman kissing a man passionately on the street at nine a.m. It was so different from the small country village she grew up in and literally a world away from the stuffy boarding school where she’d lived for ten long years. Here, she seemed to blend in a little bit more. With all the other crazies.

      Faith stopped her car. There were no spare spots so she double parked and got out, hitting Send on the text she’d written to Cash.

      I’m here.

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