Free Getting Played (Heart of Fame #7) by Lexxie Couper Page A

more than a second?”
    She snorted. “I thought you just might want to know where I live? Given that you’re apparently collecting me in thirty minutes?”
    Relief gushed over his unsettled trepidation. His muscles—far more coiled than he realized—relaxed with fluid calm. “Ahh, yeah. That might help. Shoot.”
    With another snort, Nat provided her address. “Swanky,” he said, picturing the harbor-side suburb with its historic homes and wide tree-lined streets. “Being head honcho at the Con must pay well.”
    “It does,” she said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready for an annoying rock star.”
    “An annoying rock star who is going to make you come so fucking hard your bones are going to melt.”
    “Hmmm…” she hummed in his ear, mocking doubt in the sound. “We’ll see.”
    She disconnected before he could respond.
    Jax laughed, tossed his phone back on the bed and resumed his naked victory dance. He hadn’t felt so fucking alive in ages. Tonight was going to be brilliant. Walking the red carpet with Nat, posing for photos with her, listening to her dissect the film with her sharp wit, sharing popcorn and discussing the soundtrack after…a perfect night.
    And sex, right? It’s going to be brilliant because of the sex. That’s the reason you rang her, right? Invited her to the premier? Not to catch up and eat popcorn, but for the sex. Right?
    A troubling tension fell over Jax. His throat tightened. He stared at the view beyond his window, seeing not Sydney Harbour and all its beauty, but seeing Nat, the woman who’d ended their relationship a lifetime ago.
    He swallowed. Heat prickled its way up the back of his neck and over his scalp.
    Nat. His Nat. His Boxhead.
    Of its own accord, his right hand moved to the top of his right butt cheek, his fingertips touching the tattoo there. She hadn’t seen it when he’d been naked in her office, mainly because he hadn’t turned his back on her while he was naked. Truth be known, he’d forgotten the tat was there. It had, after all, been almost twenty-one years since he had it done.
    What was he going to say when she saw it?
    With a choppy breath, he removed his fingers from the tat, dragged them through his hair and turned from the window. He had to get ready. He had to show her that like the Minister for the Arts and Culture, he too could look irresistible in a tux.
    Picking up the suite’s phone beside the bed, he dialed his bodyguard’s room—two floors down. “Bruce, I need you to go get Nat…Ms. Thorton from her home for me.”
    “Does she know I’m coming, sir?”
    Jax laughed at Bruce’s deadpanned question. “Of course she does. By the time you get her, I’ll be ready for the premier.”
    He gave Bruce her address and then hung up, palms hot, stomach…churning. Damn it, why did he suddenly feel nervous? What the fuck?
    Dragging his hands—seriously, were they shaking?—through his hair, he hurried to the closet and withdrew his suit, shirt and tie. Tie. Holy fuck, a tie.
    The sound of his mobile phone ringing stilled him.
    It’s Nat. She’s changed her mind.
    The thought shot through him like a dart of ice. Unsettled at the rollercoaster of emotions he was currently experiencing, he snatched up his phone and glared at it. He let out a wobbly laugh at the face and name staring up at him from the screen.
    Answering the call, he pressed the phone to his ear. “Strings.”
    “So you are still alive and in one piece then?” Samuel asked on the other end.
    Jax laughed. “She hasn’t killed me yet.”
    “Has she given you a name?”
    Jax pulled a face. “Bloody hell, Strings. I’ve only been here for a day.”
    “Then what the fuck have you been doing?”
    A rush of heat flowed over Jax’s body. Sex. Sex. Some more sex. Hmmm, did he need to tell Samuel that? “I had lunch with Nick today.”
    “Hey, that’s good. What’s he doing in Sydney?”
    “Believe it or not, he was here to see Nat as well. Did you know