by Anne Oliver
Kisses from the girl who’d put him in the bedroom furthest from hers?
He wanted more than paper kisses. A lot more. He’d never met a woman who intrigued him so. Then again, he’d never met a woman quite like Breanna. No, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d met those confident, liberated women, but had avoided getting tangled up with any of them. After the sex went stale, what did they have in common? They were too independent, too confrontational.
Too much trouble all round.
So why was he walking through her house, having struck a deal with her, and checking out the rooms they’d agreed he could use—including her bedroom with the only bed big enough to accommodate his height?
En route he saw a couple of suitcases and cardboard boxes stashed by the front door ready for her to take with her to her brother’s retreat tomorrow. Great, he told himself. Out of his way. Out of temptation’s way.
Every one of those pre-agreed-on rooms was tidy, with the exception of her bedroom, which was still in the throes of a battle not yet won. Because he didn’t think he could sleep comfortably beneath rose florals and flounces, he’d purchased a Lincoln green quilt cover and plump feather pillow for his stay. But for tonight they’d be sleeping under the same roof, a few short steps apart.
Five hours later, he was stretched out on the sofa in the living room and asking himself why he was still awake and wondering what time party princesses came home. Or if they came home...
Breanna had been adamant she was going solo this evening, insulted that he’d suggested otherwise, but what if she’d met someone tonight? The thought bothered him more than it should. And that bothered him. Because what self-respecting man would choose to hook up with a woman as temperamental and stubbornly independent as Breanna Black?
He heard her car pull up and realised his appearance downstairs would suggest he’d been doing what she’d told him not to do: waiting up for her. He remained where he was because he didn’t respond to demands; furthermore, to retreat now would only make him appear guilty of same.
His first glimpse of her in a sexy black dress had him wanting to sit up straighter and take notice. Of every dip and every curve, the long, lean, toned muscles in her legs and arms as she tossed a long-haired black and maroon jacket onto the sofa.
‘You’re still up.’ Her bag followed the jacket down.
He shifted his inspection to her face and noticed dark smudges beneath her eyes. Socialising too hard and too often could do that. His cynicism or personal experience? ‘I’m never in bed till one.’ Unless...
‘So you weren’t waiting up for me.’
‘No.’
‘That’s a relief, ’cos I’m stuffed.’ Crossing the room, she collapsed onto the armchair opposite him and yawned. ‘So, do you go to bed late by choice, or do you work late hours?’
‘Both.’
‘When I get the chance, I like to curl up at seven and sleep for twelve hours.’ She kicked off her black patent stilettos, closed her eyes and murmured, ‘Unfortunately, the opportunity doesn’t occur very often.’
It was her choice to party, but she looked somehow vulnerable with her black lashes resting on paler than usual cheeks. He’d bet she didn’t make a habit of allowing that aspect to reveal itself. He almost felt sorry for her and volunteered, ‘I could have picked you up,’ before he could censor himself.
‘Whatever for?’ Her eyes snapped open. ‘Let’s be clear here. I enjoy spending time in a man’s company. I enjoy it a lot and I enjoy it often. How I choose to spend that time depends on the man, the timing.’ She flipped a hand. ‘Even the weather. Point being, I like men but I don’t need one to look after me.’
Fascinating. Leo hadn’t noticed until this moment how irritation caused the outer corner of her left eye to twitch and how both eyes glinted with tiny speckles of gold in the Tiffany lamp light on the table beside her. How the more fiery she became, the fuller, and more tempting, her bottom lip appeared to be.
‘You conduct your sexual activities according to the weather?’
‘Whatever.’ Her eyes slid closed once more and Leo could almost see the feistiness drain away. ‘I need to sleep,’ she murmured.
That much was obvious. ‘Do I offer to sweep you into my arms and upstairs?’
‘Not necessary. Nor do I need tucking in—in case you were wondering.’ She rallied enough to lever herself off the chair, grab her bag and stumble her way barefoot to the foyer. ‘Breakfast’s on you,’ she said, over her shoulder. ‘Night.’
‘Goodnight.’
He heard her door close and imagined her falling face down on her bed, maybe slipping off her dress first...
Like unwelcome guests, those provocative images refused to leave. Lust licked through him, hot and restless and unassuaged. So he strolled to her bookcase to check out her taste in reading material. Flicked through a couple of classics, a biography of Amelia Earhart. He discovered an entire shelf of first editions in pristine condition behind glass and was settling down with Stephen King’s Carrie when he heard a jingle coming from inside Breanna’s jacket.
He considered answering it but what would be the point? When the second call came two minutes later, he was curious enough to take her phone from the inside pocket and check caller ID. Sam. No surname, no photo. No telling if Sam was male or female. And none of his business.
On the third call, because there was a possibility of some kind of emergency, he answered. ‘Breanna Black’s phone. Leo Hamilton speaking.’
‘Oh.’ The female voice sounded flustered, as if she might be catching Breanna at a sensitive or inopportune moment. ‘Is Brie...is Brie there? Are you...?’
‘Her new tenant,’ he clarified before the woman could jump to the wrong conclusion. ‘Did she mention renting her house out for a short while?’
‘She did. You’re the guy from the party last weekend, right?’
‘Yeah. And you’re...?’ He tried to recall meeting a woman called Sam.
‘You were looking for a couple of glasses?’
‘Ah, Samantha.’ The redhead. ‘Brie’s gone to bed. She left her phone downstairs. Can I help?’
‘You certainly can. If Brie hasn’t mentioned her purse is missing then she hasn’t noticed yet but she dropped it on the footpath outside her salon tonight. We share the same professional rooms—I’m a remedial massage therapist and we had a session here this evening. Can you tell her I’ve put it in our safe? That way she can come by and collect it when she wakes up.’
Breanna hadn’t mentioned her salon this afternoon. Her face had been covered in goo while she massaged her feet with some sweet-smelling concoction—her focus on partying and looking good while she did so. ‘I’ll let her know.’ He was about to disconnect but Sam got in first.
‘Great, thanks. Hopefully she’ll get a decent sleep. On top of cleaning up the house for you, she’s worked her butt off this past week.’ Sam sounded as if she considered it entirely his fault that Breanna had left the place in a mess until the last possible moment.
‘If I don’t see her, I’ll leave her a note.’ He sat down then stretched out on the sofa, letting his fingers run through the strands of Breanna’s long-haired jacket. ‘So, she was working tonight?’
‘Yes. She looked done in when she got here but she refused to postpone because she didn’t want to let them down.’
Leo frowned. Hadn’t she been going to a party? Glamming up for an evening on the town?
Not according to Sam.
Yet she hadn’t challenged his party princess gibe. Further, she’d accepted full responsibility for her lack of organisation and the whole forgotten schedule business without saying a damn thing in her defence. What had happened to the straight-talking Breanna? And who were the mysterious them she hadn’t wanted to let down? ‘You said a session. What do you mean by that?’
‘Brie’s been working with cancer survivors on a monthly basis,’ Sam explained. ‘Demonstrating how to care for their skin after chemo and radiation and using her home-made natural
products, which she experiments with in her spare time. And that’s on top of salon hours, which includes taking on extra patients who can’t afford to pay.’ Sam ended her glowing testament with, ‘She’s one of a kind.’
In other words, Brie’s more than you think. ‘Thanks for letting me know,’ he said. ‘I’ll make sure she hears she’s appreciated.’
He disconnected, his legs hanging over one end of the sofa while he caressed Breanna’s jacket some more. He’d have been none the wiser if Sam hadn’t filled him in. There was much more to Breanna than he’d first thought. And he meant what he’d said—he intended letting her know.
SIX
Leo set up Breanna’s dining room as his temporary office. He’d been up since
the crack of dawn, due in part to the cramped
bed he’d been assigned but mostly because he had a business commitment this evening and he wanted to ensure everything was organised before taking Breanna out to breakfast and seeing what other activities she’d planned for today.
She might spend the early part of the afternoon with him before he left for his three-hour drive to Heaven. He was due to dine with the owners and developers of the east coast’s luxury eco-lodge this evening.
He wanted to make up for yesterday’s badly timed visit. He wanted to know why a straight-talking woman like Breanna hadn’t set him straight about her evening’s plans. Most of all, he wanted a little more up close and personal time with her.
Earlier, he’d brought in a load of groceries and made room for them in a kitchen cupboard. He’d made himself space on a refrigerator shelf until Breanna took what she wanted when she left. He didn’t need much; he rarely cooked. He’d left his new pillow and quilt on the tiny half-bed he’d slept in last night before taking a brisk walk in the early morning chill followed by an almost as chilly shower.
Over a quick breakfast of instant coffee he found hiding at the back of the cupboard and thick, buttered toast, he logged on to the internet and did some banking transactions. He went over his report for this evening, made a couple of last-minute changes. By the time he phoned Sunny she was having brunch with friends in one of Melbourne’s trendy arcades and shopping was on her afternoon agenda. Seemed nothing slowed his sister down.
He made a couple more calls, then surfed the net for relevant articles on current environmental trends while he waited for Breanna to wake.
At ten-fifteen, he was onto his second coffee when he heard movement upstairs, then the splash of Breanna’s shower. His skin started to itch. He rubbed at the back of his neck and stared at his laptop’s screen. He tried to concentrate on the words but the cascading sound from above made him think of shower sex. Of sweet-smelling soap and slippery rose-petal skin. Of how long it had been since he’d indulged in that particular activity.
Which had him wondering: when had he stopped thinking of Breanna as Sunny’s neighbourly support person and started thinking of her as his next lover? The thought unsettled Leo as much now as it had that first time he’d laid eyes on her and he itched in a way he’d never itched before.
He itched some more when Breanna appeared beneath the dining-room arch smelling fresh and looking fabulous in indigo-blue jeans and a tight navy sweater that showcased her assets to full advantage. She wore her jeans tucked into caramel-coloured calf-length boots and her hair swung free about her face. Stunning.
She saw him watching—ogling—and smiled. ‘Good morning.’
It was a good morning now. She was like the sun rising on a beautiful day. ‘Morning.’ He cleared a sudden husk from his throat and asked, ‘How did you sleep?’
She shook out an orange scarf covered in little black owls. ‘Very well. I suppose the same can’t be said for you? I’m sorry about the bed.’
‘You could have offered to share yours.’
Her grin was quick and lively. ‘Is breakfast still on?’
‘You bet.’
‘Great, I’m starved.’ She wound the scarf around her neck, slung her bag on her shoulder. ‘Shall we go? Or are you busy?’ She tagged the last on as an afterthought.
For her, this morning, he was prepared to drop everything and go just to be with her. ‘I’m free until later this afternoon.’
‘In that case I’ve changed my mind about breakfast. There’s a new wine and cheese place in Richmond having an open day today on their lawns. The weather’s going to be fine, it’s only a half-hour’s drive and I’ve been dying to try it.’
She switched from one idea to the next so fast she made his head spin. He was learning she only had one speed: fast forward. ‘Wine on an empty stomach?’
‘Today’s my first day off in two weeks. I’ve got twenty-one hours left before I have to go back to work and I don’t want to waste it.’
‘It’s a date, then.’
‘Nuh-uh. Not a date.’ She shook her head but her eyes danced. ‘Sunday sessions don’t count as dates, especially in the morning.’
‘Okay, it’s a non-date.’
He watched her cross the room to fetch last night’s jacket, which was still on the sofa, then she caught sight of her phone on the coffee table and frowned. Looked straight at him with accusing eyes.
‘Samantha rang last night,’ he informed her.
‘You answered my phone?’
‘When it rang three times in succession, I figured it might be important. I was right. You dropped your purse outside your salon. Sam said to let you know she put it in the safe.’
‘Really? Jeez....’ Her expression turned appreciative. ‘Thanks. I hadn’t even noticed...what is wrong with me lately?’ Her shoulders lifted and she rolled her eyes at the ceiling.
‘Coffee—or whatever it is you drink—before we go? You look like you need it. I’ll make it—I was going to make another coffee for myself anyway.’
‘Okay. Thanks. Green tea. Red tin with yellow cows, on the shelf above the kettle.’
* * *
Brie followed him into the kitchen, sat down and took in the view as he reached for the tin. She was going to have to keep her hands from straying to that soft mohair jumper he was wearing that matched his eyes perfectly. And those sexy-as-sin jeans.
‘Do you cook?’
‘Not if I can help it.’ He set a steaming cup in front of her then set the sugar and the carton of milk on the table between them. Finally, with his own mug, he slid into the chair opposite.
‘Join the club—I’m no cook either.’ She laughed. ‘We’d be no good as housemates.’
He poured in milk then cradled his mug between his hands. Steely eyes studied her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about last night?’
So Sam had blabbed. Brie wondered how much. She raised the tea to her lips, took a long, slow sip—soothing and fragrant—and said, ‘What about last night?’
‘Sam told me, so don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.’
‘I know exactly what you’re talking about.’ She smiled at him over the rim of her mug, knowing he’d expected a different answer. ‘As for why I didn’t tell you, I’ll let you figure it out for yourself, Leo.’
Jaw rigid, he stared at her for a long minute, his eyes turning a darker shade of grey. He gulped down the rest of his drink, set his mug down with a clunk of china on wood and leaned back in his chair.
He really didn’t get it, she decided, and drained the last of her tea. It wouldn’t occur to him that Leo Hamilton, obvious chick magnet, might draw a wrong conclusion when it came to women. And she wasn’t going to enlighten him. She pushed up from the table and rinsed her mug, set it on the drainer. ‘Okay, while you’re thinking about it, let’s make a start before it rains.’
‘Didn’t you say the weather’s going to be fine today?’
‘It’s four seasons in one day here—you’ll be used to that, coming from Melbourne.’ She shrugged into her jacket. ‘I have to pick up my purse before we head out of town. Are you driving or will I?’
‘Is that a serious question?’
‘Why wouldn’t it be?’ She searched her pockets for gloves, stuffed them in her bag. ‘It makes sense; I’m local and—’
‘It’s not a problem,’ he interrupted, swiping up his leather jacket and producing a set of keys from the pocket. ‘I might not be local but I do know my way around Tasmania’s main roads. We’ll take your luggage as well, get it out of the way.’
‘We’ll do that later,’ she said, refusing to let him have it all his way. ‘We don’t have time now. Brunch beckons.’
Fortunately he didn’t argue or it might have got nasty. She climbed into his car and they drove the five minutes to Eve’s Naturally. Even in his spacious vehicle it felt too close, too intimate. Breathing in his scent. Aware of his long tanned fingers on the steering wheel. The way her body seemed to lean towards his a little too much whenever they took a left turn. And even when they didn’t.
‘I only meant we need more time at the retreat because I want to show you what the Pink Snowflake’s been able to achieve.’
‘No worries, so long as we’re there before three.’ He negotiated around a bus. ‘I have a dinner meeting at six this evening but it’s a three hour drive if I stick to the speed limit.’
‘Which you will, of course.’
‘Of course.’
‘So you’ll be staying there overnight, then?’
‘Yes.’
‘And this client needs your environmental management consulting expertise?’ She checked out his strong, masculine jaw in profile. ‘Did I get it right?’
‘Yes and yes.’
‘So where are you going that takes three hours?’
‘Heaven.’
She laughed. But she didn’t laugh so much as sigh at the way he glanced at her after he said it. As if... ‘Say a prayer for me when you get there.’
She watched his lips curve but he kept his eyes on the road as he asked, ‘Have you ever been?’
‘To heaven? Yeah, I’ve been. But you’re talking about the resort. Not at those unaffordable prices.’ She indicated Eve’s Naturally amongst a row of spacious offices on the left. ‘You can stop here. I’ll be two secs.’