by Joss Wood
She could get lost in the decor, but her eyes were immediately drawn to the huge floor-to-ceiling sliding doors that were pushed open to reveal the deep deck and the sparkling infinity pool. As the sun faded, stars popped through the deepening darkness, first one, then another, then a handful.
The air smelled verdant and rich and primal, and Brin placed her hand on her heart, conscious, yet again, of that strange feeling of connection.
Despite never visiting this part of the country before, her soul recognized this place...
“Miss Riddell?”
Brin, not wanting to pull her eyes off the night sky, reluctantly turned around and watched a slim woman cross the deck to her, her elegant hand outstretched. This Iman lookalike had to be Mari, Radd’s manager.
God, she was gorgeous.
“Welcome to Kagiso.”
“Thank you, it’s beautiful,” Brin replied.
Mari lifted her eyebrows. “Radd didn’t accompany you in?”
Brin shrugged. “He went on to his villa.”
“As I’m sure you want to do, as well,” Mari smoothly replied.
“I’m really happy to stay here and look at the stars,” Brin confessed.
Mari sent her a small smile. “Well, in your villa, you can soak in an outdoor bath and look at the stars.”
Oh, God, that sounded...blissful. Indulgent, luxurious.
“And I can send your dinner to your room, along with any beverage you desire.”
It was Brin’s turn to raise her eyebrows. Anything was a big word. “Anything at all?”
Mari nodded. “Pretty much.”
Wow. Okay, then. Brin looked up at the diamond-on-velvet sky again before following Mari’s long-legged stride inside the lodge. She crossed the slate floor, running her hand along the top of a butter-soft leather couch, her eyes taking in the world-class sculptures on the floor and stunning art on the wall.
Good job, Radd. This is amazing.
Mari opened a side door and led her down a stone pathway, past a cozy library and what looked to be a beautifully appointed office. “Yours?” Brin asked her.
Mari laughed. “I wish! No, that is the office the guests use for the important calls, video conferences and emails they can’t afford to miss. That’s the only room where there is Wi-Fi, otherwise we encourage our guests to disconnect to reconnect.”
She’d avoid the office, Brin thought, smiling, liking the idea of being unreachable.
“And this is our multipurpose room, we can hold mini-conferences here or cocktail parties or discos.” Mari stopped by a door at the end of the main building and pushed open the door. She flicked on a light and moved back to allow Brin to enter the room.
“Why would anyone want to be here when they could be on the deck?” Brin asked but didn’t wait for a reply, her attention caught by the various shades of blue flowers standing in buckets on the long stainless-steel table.
There were delphiniums, blue hydrangeas, cream roses and lilies, blue grape hyacinths, blue roses and delicate orchids and freesias. Brin dropped her bag to the floor and hurried to the table, dipping her head to smell the freesias, running her finger over the delicate petals of a creamy, blue-tinted rose. Her eyes danced over her supplies, huge glass vases and earthenware pots, tape, shears and wire, delicate ribbon and buckets of glossy green fillers. A list of arrangements sat on the desk and Brin quickly perused it, making adjustments here, leaving or adding flowers there.
Looking at the stars from a bubble bath could wait, because she’d just stepped into her own version of heaven. And it was filled with flowers.
* * *
It was just past five the next morning when Radd walked into the dining room and headed straight for the coffee machine in the corner. He jammed his cup under the spout. At the sound of footsteps, he turned and smiled when he saw one of his oldest friends crossing the room to where he stood.
“You’re up early,” Mari said after they exchanged a hug. “Did you sleep well?”
That would be a no. He’d tossed and turned for hours, unable to push the memory of how Brinley tasted from his thoughts. He’d kissed a lot of women, slept with about as many, but he’d never lost sleep before. He didn’t like it.
He seemed to be saying that a lot around Brin.
Speaking of Brinley, he wondered where she was. The door to her villa had been open when he’d passed by and her bed had been made. He’d called out but received no reply.
“Did you arrange for one of the rangers to take Brin on a game drive?” Radd asked as Mari fixed herself a cup of coffee.
“No, I wouldn’t have done that without your permission,” Mari answered him, a tiny frown marring her smooth forehead.
Then where the hell was she? “She’s not in her room, have you seen her this morning?”
Radd felt his stomach lurch and cold water ran through his veins. God, he hoped she hadn’t gone for a walk. The resort wasn’t fenced and the animals—wild, free and dangerous—could, and had, stroll through the grounds. Just last week they’d had a leopard lying in the branches of the acacia outside villa four.
He’d been so desperate to lay his hands, and his mouth, on her that he hadn’t given her the safety speech. Goddammit, how could he be so stupid?
Mari placed a hand on his arm. “I’m sure she’s fine, Radd. Let’s just stay calm, okay?”
Right. He never panicked, so why was his throat tight and his lungs heaving? Pulling in a few deep breaths, he shook his head to clear it, and forced away thoughts of Brinley being mauled by a hyena or bitten by a Cape cobra.
Overreacting much, Tempest-Vane?
“Why don’t you check the conference room?” Mari suggested. “Maybe she decided to get up early to get the arrangements done.”
Now, why hadn’t he thought of that first? Oh, maybe because he’d had no sleep, was sexually frustrated and generally pissed off that a woman he’d met yesterday—yesterday, for God’s sake!—had managed to rock his world.
He couldn’t wait for later, to be able to bundle her onto his plane and send her back to Cape Town and out of his life. He didn’t like feeling this off-kilter, so out of control.
Control wasn’t just important, it was everything.
Holding his coffee cup, Radd walked out of the dining room and down the stone path leading to the conference room. He opened the door to the light-filled room, his eyes widening at the enormous bouquets sitting on the steel table in the middle of the room. They were a riot of white, cream, blues and greens, lush and wild. Somehow, despite the flowers being imported and exotic, she’d managed to invoke the feel of the bush in the arrangements. He was reminded of the colors of new spring growth, the African sky in summer, the way the sun hit the land at the beginning of the day.
The buckets on the floor were mostly empty, save for a couple of stalks of greenery.
Her work was done, and done exceptionally well, but where the hell was Brin?
Walking farther into the room, Radd’s booted foot kicked something soft, and he looked down to see a leather tote bag lying on the floor. Radd looked around. Seeing the high-backed couch at the other end of the room, he strode over to it and his heart finally settled into an even rhythm. Brin was curled up on the plump cushions, her hands tucked under her head, dark curls resting on her cheek. Since she wore the same clothes as yesterday, it was obvious she’d never made it to her room last night.
He gently picked up one curl, then another, and pulled them off her cheek. Her makeup had worn off and he could see the spray of freckles on her straight nose, a tiny scar in the middle of her forehead. Her eyelashes, long and thick, touched her cheek and highlighted the blue stripes under her eyes. How late had she worked?
Radd gripped the back of the couch and stared down at her, fighting the wave of lust threatening to consume him. He could handle desire, he wasn’t a kid and c
ould walk away, but the wave of protectiveness surprised him. He wasn’t sure what to do with it.
Why was he feeling this way? Why was he feeling anything at all? He wasn’t used to paying this much attention to his feelings, to even having feelings. He’d trained himself not to react, to push emotion away.
He needed to go back to feeling nothing.
And he would, because Brinley wasn’t, in any way, his type. He dated—okay, slept with—sophisticated women, tough women, women who knew the score.
He dated cool blondes and raven-haired pixies, African queens and fiery redheads. Looks weren’t important, but their emotional independence was.
So why the hell had he kissed Brin last night? Why had he spent hours last night imagining what her slim, firm and glorious naked body would feel like pressed up against his—damn good, of that he had no doubt. Why, goddammit, was he standing here staring down at her?
There was only one explanation: he was losing his damned mind. He should only have one priority, and that was making sure that Naledi’s wedding went off without a hitch and getting Vincent to sign the final deed of sale. Restoring the mine to the Tempest-Vane group of companies was all that was important.
The acquisition of the mine, and their announcement that they would be increasing capacity and employing thousands of workers, would be front-page news. That news would lead to an interest in their PR and rebranding exercise.
They would garner attention, but it would be the right sort of attention.
The hope was that the PR campaign and the rebranding exercise would, finally, dilute the interest in his parents fast-paced and over-the-top lives, and their still recent deaths. More than a few journalists had, over the years, blown up minor incidents in his and Digby’s lives, trying to show that he and his brother were like Gil and Zia. Digby’s escapades—fast cars, boats and bikes and his one-date love life—garnered attention but nothing he did was ever, thank God, salacious. Or smarmy.
Scandal sold papers, but Radd was determined to show the world they were apples that had fallen very, very far from the family tree.
Along with a couple of personal interviews he intended to give to trusted journalists, the world would see that he and Digby were serious, responsible and restrained. That the Tempest-Vanes could be trusted again.
Damn you, Gil and Zia.
Radd rubbed his jaw and hauled in a deep breath, seeking calm. Thinking about his parents reminded him of his need to remain numb. Feelings, he’d decided a long time ago, were counterproductive. Love was a mirage, a myth and a lie.
Besides, Brinley wasn’t his type.
He was repeating himself. Again. He obviously needed more sleep and so, he presumed, did she.
Responding to his squeeze of her shoulder, Brin slowly opened her eyes and Radd was briefly reminded of that photo of the Afghan Mona Lisa, the girl with the light green eyes in her dark face. Brin’s skin tone was much lighter, but her eye color was as intense, splashes of light in her face.
Gorgeous.
“What time is it?” Brin asked, her voice sexy with sleep.
“Just after six,” Radd replied as she swung her long legs off the couch. She stretched and the hem of her T-shirt rose an inch, maybe two, revealing a strip of smooth skin. He wanted to put his mouth on that strip, nudging the shirt up with his nose to find her breast, her nipple.
Or go lower...
Radd cursed and tipped his head back to look at the high ceiling. It was going to be a long, long day, but by this afternoon she’d be on his plane. Then he’d be able to forget her and her irritating effect on him.
Yet the thought of her leaving left a bitter taste in his mouth. That had to be because Brin’s company was preferable to Naledi’s and her father’s, to that of the guests he had yet to meet.
Brin stood up and bent down to touch her toes, wrapping her arms behind her knees and pushing her pert bottom in the air. Oh, hell, she was bendy...
Not what he needed to know.
“Did you sleep here last night?”
Yeah, he understood he was being rude, but rude was better than taking her in his arms, lowering her to the couch and doing several things to her he was pretty sure this couch, or this room, had never seen. Or maybe, knowing his guests, it had.
“I finished around two,” Brin said, unfurling her long body and standing up straight. She placed her hand over her mouth to cover her yawn. She looked past him to the bouquets of flowers on the table. “What do you think?”
There was that note of insecurity in her tone again, the silent wish to be reassured. Normally he would ignore it, but Brin had done a great job and what would it hurt to tell her so? “They look amazing,” he truthfully answered.
Brin’s eyes locked on his as a hopeful smile touched her lips. “Really? Honestly?”
“I never say things I don’t mean.”
Brin walked over to the table, pulled out a cream rose only to jam it back into the same spot. “I’m not happy with the balance of this one.”
Radd put his hand over hers and pulled it away from the arrangement. Goosebumps raised the hair on his arms and blood flowed south, tenting his pants. And all because he was holding her hand. Could he be any more ridiculous? Radd dropped her hand and, to keep from reaching for her and showing her how much he appreciated her efforts in a more basic, biblical way, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
Brin stepped away from the table and turned her back on the flowers. “Full disclosure, I didn’t follow the exact instructions of the original florist. She wanted more structured arrangements, but I think these work a lot better, especially now that I’ve seen the interior of Kagiso Lodge. It’s beautiful, luxurious, but it’s not rigid, or fussy. So, I followed my instincts.”
And they were spot-on. Speaking of instincts, his instincts were yelling that they’d be great in bed together...
Tempest-Vane! For God’s sake.
“But Naledi might not appreciate her original designs being changed. Maybe I should change them back, tone them done.”
No damn way! “For every flower you move, I’ll deduct ten grand off your payment.” Radd told her, his tone suggesting that she not argue. “You’ve already lost ten thousand because you moved that one flower.”
Brin looked at him, askance before realizing he was teasing. “Okay, okay.” She lifted her hands and took a step back.
Brin wrinkled her pretty nose. “I need coffee. And a shower.” She sent him an uncertain look. “If you’re happy with what I’ve done, you can tell your pilot to come and collect me.”
That would be the best option. She could be gone by noon, and he could spend the rest of the day alone in his favorite place, something he never got to experience anymore. He could simply soak in the essence of Africa and recharge his soul.
That’s what he should do, but Radd didn’t reach for his phone. Instead, he opted to buy a little time. “Coffee is in the dining room.”
Brin followed him to the door, sending him a shy smile when he stood aside to let her walk through the door before him. She seemed surprised by his manners and a little grateful. It was a nice change from the women who either didn’t notice or chided him for being gentlemanly, saying that women were perfectly able to open doors for themselves. Of course they were, what the hell did that have anything to do with showing a little bit of courtesy?
Women, would he ever understand them?
Then again, because he was resolved to live his life solo, he would never need to.
Brin looked back into the room, and he gripped her elbow before she could walk back and fiddle with her flowers. “They are fine, Brinley.”
Brin looked startled. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
“You have the most expressive eyes in the world,” Radd replied, his tone terse. “Come on. Coffee—we could both do with a cup.”
/> Or an intravenous injection containing pure caffeine. And a reality check.
CHAPTER FIVE
BRIN, SITTING IN the passenger seat of a short-wheelbase Land Rover, held her hair back off her face and turned in her seat to look at Radd. Dressed in a red T-shirt, the hem of its sleeves tight around his biceps; old, faded jeans; battered boots; and a Kagiso Lodge cap on his head, he looked the antithesis to the urbane, ruthless businessman with the fearsome reputation she’d met in Cape Town. Light stubble covered his jaw and his broad hands held the steering wheel with complete ease as he whipped the Land Rover down a side road, driving them deeper into the game reserve.
It was obvious that he knew where he was going and how to get there. With each mile they traveled, she sensed his tension ebbing. He loved it here, Brin realized. He’d never admit it, but she sensed this was his happy place.
She didn’t have a happy place, not yet. Maybe her shop, if and when she finally opened it, would become the one place where she was totally at ease, utterly in control.
Brin leaned back in her seat, enjoying the early morning sun on her face. She was exhausted, but thrilled with her work last night. On entering the conference room, she’d just wanted to inspect the flowers, map out a plan of action for this morning and see what she was up against. But then she’d picked up a bunch of blue orchids and she’d felt compelled to make a start. One bouquet led to another and soon she was losing time, lost in the moment, immersed in her creativity. Not much could make her forget who and where she was but her craft did...
As did Radd.
When he’d kissed her last night, she’d forgotten why she was at Kagiso, that they were in an open-top vehicle in the middle of the African bush, that she and Radd inhabited completely different worlds. In his arms, she didn’t feel like Kerry’s little sister, someone who was broke, insecure and still trying to find herself.
In Radd’s arms, she felt like the best version of herself.
Brin sighed and rubbed her moist hands on her jeans. He shouldn’t be taking up this much mental space. In a couple of hours she would be back in Cape Town and, in two or three more, back in her cottage in Bo Kaap. By tomorrow, or Tuesday, depending on how quickly Radd’s funds moved through the banking channels, her money would be in her possession, and she would be free.