But he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop looking at her.
And he couldn’t stop his bodyreactingto her.
Damn it.
This was a serious fucking problem.
Because the last time they’d met, she’d accusedhimof being an arrogant, insensitive jerk, and he’d accusedherof being an ignorant American.
Following Elisa, Zeta drew closer to where he, Owen, and Angus stood under the wedding arbor made from ghost-gum eucalyptus, wattle flowers, gum leaves, and draped in a long, flowy length of white gauzy fabric.
Closer.
Her unreadable gaze seemed to pin him to the spot. Indecipherable. What was she thinking? Was she even thinking abouthim?
Of course, she wouldn’t be. Why would she? She hated him. Had made it very clear the last time they’d met. Whereas, hehadn’tbeen able to stop thinking about her. About how annoying and snarky and…and…American she was.
His mouth turned to a desert. His heart beat faster. Harder. His groin tightened. Grew heavy.
Shit, what was going on with him? This was mental. She was annoying, not…not…
“You’re in big trouble, Mick,” Elisa whispered, giving him a cheeky smile as she arrived at the end of the sandy stretch of beach acting as the aisle.
His already pounding heart hammered faster. He swallowed.
Wait. What? “What?” he whispered.
Elisa let out a soft laugh and then, with a very seductive wink at Angus, she veered off to the left, taking up her place on the bride’s side of things.
“God, I love her so much,” Angus muttered at his side, the tone of his voice making it very clear exactly what he was planning to do with Elisa when they were next alone.
Mick swallowed again. His skin began to prickle. His pulse quickened. Not because of Angus’s obvious lust and adoration for his wife, but because Zeta was now barely a foot away from him, about to follow Elisa to the left.
She was looking at him.
And for whatever fucking reason, all he wanted to do was grab her arse with both hands, haul her to his body, and kiss her.
Really fucking kiss her.
Senseless.
Fuck, what the hell is going on?
2
Zeta tried not to fidget during the ceremony.
She focused on wriggling her toes in the cool sand. She focused on the smooth stalks of the bouquet of ivory-white roses in her hands. She focused on… Oh, who was she kidding? She was almost entirely focused on Michael Blackthorne.
“Mick to my mates,” he’d said to her and Elisa the night they’d first met at Bria and Owen’s engagement party. “But don’t get me confused withNickBlackthorne. All that bastard can do is sing songs and play a guitar.”
Zeta’s mouth had fallen open at the insult towards one of the world’s greatest rock stars. She’d made a shocked noise and shot Bria and Owen a worried look, but Owen had just snorted, clapped Mick on the shoulder, and said it was a good thing their cousin wasn’t there to hear him say that.
Mick had laughed. “What’s he going to do? Sing me to death?”
“Canyousing?” Zeta had shot back. “Or is this some kind of inferiority complex hiding in bravado?”
“Oh God.” He’d rolled his eyes. “A groupie?”