From Rags(10)
Author: Suzanne Wright

He hadn’t mentioned to Jaxxon that he was a little concerned about how some might treat her at the Launch Party. There were some guests he knew of who would enjoy flinging a few degrading insults at her, things aimed to eat at her confidence or belittle her or test her responses; jealousy and prejudice, of course, being the main motives. He couldn’t visualise her crumbling, but he had to remind himself that this young woman came from nothing and was about to enter a world where people competed over who had the biggest yacht or wore pearls and sapphires. He wondered if Jaxxon had any real concept of how famous this was all going to make her. As from tomorrow, her life was going to be dramatically different.

“One last question,” a reporter quickly shouted as the presentation ended.

Jaxxon groaned internally. This was something like the sixth time someone had launched a ‘last question’ while they were trying to leave and she was getting cheesed off now.

“We’ve noticed that haircare products are included in the beauty range, which isn’t usual. Any comments on that?”

“Yeah,” answered Jaxxon snappily. “Lather, rinse, repeat.”

CHAPTER THREE

Connor McKenzie stood in the living room of his London apartment, can of beer in hand, wondering if all blokes had this much trouble getting a woman to listen up when he said no he did not intend to marry her. He’d left L.A to get some space when it seemed that he couldn’t shake her off, and what did she do? Flew all the way to London to have the exact same conversation they’d had a dozen times before.

Oh she could hear him alright when he said no. Plain as day. He’d learned over the past three months that her hearing was selective. Oh that wasn’t all. He’d also learned that she had planned to accidentally-on-purpose become pregnant. What exactly did she think that was going to achieve? That it would trap him into a committed relationship? He might not want kids but although he’d have played some part in the kid’s life, no way would he have walked down a bloody aisle.

Another thing he’d learned about this woman was that it was her who had been spreading rumours to the tabloids that he had proposed to her and that they were getting married in eight months’ time. His best mate, Dane, had showed him one of the cheesy headlines: Anita Donovan is the formula that tamed the womanising Formula One driver Connor McKenzie.

He would never fully understand women. He knew how to make them crave him. He knew how to make them lose themselves and come like crazy but without losing control of himself – he would never give a woman that much power over him. What he didn’t know, and would possibly never know, was how to make them understand that if he f**ked them it did not mean that he cared about them. That sex and love were two different things and it was possible to have one without the other.

It was well-known that he’d never had a committed relationship and didn’t want one. It didn’t seem to matter that he was honest with every woman from the start. For some unknown reason they all got this daft idea that they would be the one to change him. Hence, why there was a very disappointed American woman behind him who was trying to pluck at heartstrings that he didn’t have to manipulate him into giving her what she wanted.

“Connor,” she intoned. “Don’t you think we owe it to ourselves, after everything we’ve shared, to give it another shot?”

Owe it to themselves? Everything they’d shared? They had only being seeing each other on-and-off for a few months for nothing more than shagging. Where did she come up with this dramatic tripe? It sounded like something right out of a corny romantic film. It probably was, actually; she’d starred in enough of them.

“Connor, talk to me.” Anita was close to snapping; she felt helpless for the first time in her life. Since the day she was born she was granted practically whatever she wanted. Having famous parents, both actors, meant that her acting career was given a huge jumpstart and things had always come easy to her. Connor was the only thing she had ever had to truly work for. He hadn’t fawned all over her or been anything like the respectful guys that she was used to who showered her with affection and gifts – which was why she had wanted him so badly. What she hadn’t banked on was that once she had him she would have to work to keep him. Three months she had lasted…and now she was about to lose him. She was about to know the feeling of failure.

She had to make him realise how good they looked together. They were so different that it was laughable, but that was what made them fit. She had had the sheltered, silver spoon lifestyle whereas Connor had spent his childhood in foster care in London. Yet two years ago, at just the age of twenty-two, he had become the youngest Formula One driver in the world.

Where she was blonde and pale and blue-eyed, he had coal-black hair and the darkest eyes. The tabloids had long ago dubbed her ‘angel face’ due to her innocent features and small, delicate build. Nothing angelic about Connor; he wore either a frown or a cocky smirk and was anything but delicate with his athletic build and those muscles that were so defined they rippled beneath his clothing as he moved. The tabloids loved her ‘sweet disposition’ and her apparent vulnerability and that unworldly smile she was a master at showing the cameras. Connor, on the other hand, had a raw, animal magnetism about him. He oozed power, strength and danger; making him just as intimidating as he was sensual. It was as though he had been created purposely to seduce. And seduce he did, though he didn’t have to invest much effort into it. How many women had she had to fight off during the last few months? God they even flirted with him in front of her as though she wasn’t even there.

It was those contrasts between them that made them perfect for each other: they balanced each other out. Why couldn’t he see that? Okay so they might not love each other, but he didn’t want love anyway. Maybe he had a point when he said that he wasn’t a fashion accessory for her to hang off her arm, but lots of famous people married to keep the tabloids talking about them. “Okay, Connor, if you need some more time before we get married then we’ll wait.”

“Anita, Anita, Anita.” He swerved to face her. “I need you to listen very carefully because repeating myself over and over isn’t something I enjoy. Are you listening? I. Have. No. Intention. Of. Ever. Getting. Married. Ever. Did you hear that? Let the words settle in your brain. Absorb the information. Accept it. Go home.”

“Maybe in time you’ll change your -”