She took a sip of champagne and remembered attending a polo match when she was a child. Her mother had insisted on her wearing a white dress and white shoes and got annoyed when both got splattered with mud. She’d been ordered to spend the rest of the afternoon in the car, which suited her fine as she’d stashed her book under the passenger seat. Just another instance of her not being about to live up to their impossibly high expectations. She was constantly set up to fail.
Millie had expected to feel like a fish out of water at this event, but she managed to exchange small talk, sidestep questions about Taz and even engage in a conversation about polo. She wasn’t half as bored or on edge as she’d thought she’d be. Taz was the centre of attention, and that meant eyes on her too, but she was handling standing in the spotlight better than she’d expected. It wasn’t the nightmare she expected it to be. Maybe some of those old insecurities had faded, or maybe she’d simply grown up. Either way, not feeling like she was dancing on the edge of a sharp blade was a pleasant surprise.
Millie jerked when Taz’s arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She barely had time to blink before he dipped his head, his lips brushing her temple. The warm weight of his kiss lingered as he spoke softly, his words pitched low for her ears alone.
‘I’m bored, and this is tedious,’ he murmured, sounding irritated. ‘How much longer?’
‘Youhaveto watch the first game and should watch the second,’ Millie told him, inhaling his scent.
‘Watching and not playing is torture,’ he muttered, his grip on her hip tightening.
Taz was a man of action, and she understood his frustration. He wasn’t the type to stand on the sidelines. She patted his bicep. ‘Hang in there,’ she told him. ‘Being here benefits you and the charity. It’s a win-win scenario. Keep your eye on the prize.’
He pulled back and looked down at her, and her heart stuttered at his expression. ‘I’d rather keep my eyes on you.’
An image of her naked on his lap last night flashed behind her eyes, and her cheeks heated. ‘Taz…people are looking at us,’ she murmured, heat in her cheeks.
The corner of his mouth lifted into a sexy smirk. ‘I know,’ he told her, cupping her face in his hands. His eyes glinted with a curious combination of lust and amusement. ‘We want them to look at us, remember?’
Her protest was captured then smothered by his lips. His tongue slipped between her teeth, and the world faded away. He took control of their kiss, and there was nothing she could do but respond. Nothing shewantedto do but respond.
Taz abruptly ended the kiss and looked down at her with hooded eyes and a satisfied smile. ‘Give it a minute and we’ll be all over social media,’ he stated. ‘The bad boy and the good girl.’
Millie resisted the urge to touch her lips with her fingertips and worked hard to keep her scowl off her face. He’d kissed her to make a point. Millie sighed. He was punishing her for pulling away this morning, for putting them in opposite corners of the ring. He’d been happy to wait for the right moment to retaliate, patient enough to make sure she was on the back foot, sneaky enough to make her feel unstable.
He was unlike anyone she’d met before. Oh, her parents were self-assured, not shy about putting themselves forward, but Taz was so confident, possessing an arrogance and self-belief she’d never encountered before. He knew exactly who he was and what he was doing. If her family was a garden bonfire, then Taz was an out-of-control wildfire. He didn’t singe and scorch; he annihilated everything in his path.
Millie felt like she was facing that raging fire holding a watering can.
Taz’s low curse had Millie instantly on high alert. She turned to see who’d captured his attention and saw a polo player, dressed in white jodhpurs and a branded shirt, slapping his knee-high riding boot with his leather crop. Hanging onto his hand, like she was the survivor of a shipwreck and he the life ring, was a pale lanky exceptionally pretty redhead.
And Millie knew, with the feminine wisdom she didn’t know she possessed up until now, that this woman and Taz had seen each other naked.
Jealously, hot and acid, burned her stomach lining, and she was annoyed at her gut response. She was his employee and fake girlfriend, and while they’d allowed things to get a little out of control last night, she had no right to feel jealous.
Taz murmured a lowHere comes trouble, and on seeing the polo player’s face—hard, defiant and thoroughly annoyed—Millie knew he was right.
‘You slept with her, right?’ she muttered out of the side of his mouth.
‘Yes,’ he admitted, unembarrassed. ‘She told me they were done. It turned out things weren’t as cut and dry as she said they were.’
‘Is he going to make trouble?’ she whispered.
‘Highly possible.’
Damn it, the day had been going well so far. Lots of the attendees had pledged to make donations to the nominated charity—a fund for the victims of natural disasters such as flooding and hurricanes. A fight between the guest of honour and what looked to be the captain of one of the polo teams would be disastrous, especially since Taz was finally,finally, generating some decent press.
‘De Rossi.’
‘Bertolo.’
The two men gripped hands, their fingers turning white with pressure. She caught the redhead’s eye and saw her quick wince. Right, she wasn’t imagining their death-by-handshake duel.
Millie shoulder-bumped Taz in what she hoped was a playful way and held out her hand for the polo player to shake. He had no choice but to release Taz’s hand: a good thing, because she knew how stubborn Taz could be. Without her intervention, they’d stand there for hours. ‘I’m Millie, Taz’s girlfriend.’
‘Brody Bertolo.’ He gave her hand a quick shake and placed his hands on his hips. He nodded at Taz’s arm. ‘It’s a pity you’re injured, or else I would’ve suggested you play a chukka with us. If you lasted the seven minutes, I would’ve made a substantial donation to your charity.’
What a jerk! Millie sent him the sweetest smile she could muster. ‘Why don’t you make the donation and we skip Taz getting on a horse?’ she asked, trying to hide her dislike.
