The Party Dare (Mills & Boon Modern Tempted)

by Anne Oliver

  ‘Or imagine you suffer forty per cent burns, like my sister did, and you live. Permanently disabled, with pain a daily struggle. If only I could have got her out sooner. Now do you understand why I reacted the way I did?’

  She reached out, her eyes moist, touching his scars. Touching his soul. ‘Your mother? I’m so very sorry. How old were you?’

  ‘Eighteen.’

  ‘And you saved your sister’s life,’ she murmured in wonder.

  ‘I’m no hero. Can we get back on track here?’ He pulled her close, felt her naked flesh against his for the first time warm and close and soothing against his. He kissed her long and deep. He was alive.

  Then he let her go and walked to the room’s CD player, facing away from her. ‘When I turn around I want all that stuff gone. Finished. Because I want to be inside you but I don’t want to be inside you with my past coming between us.’

  He remained that way a moment to settle them both, then switched the player on. Mellow sax floated out.

  When he turned back she’d lowered herself to the carpet. She nodded. ‘We’re good.’ Using her hands behind her head as a pillow, she spread herself out like a banquet of sugar and spicy delights and stared up at him, a smile on her lips. ‘Come on down.’

  His fingers were shaking as he shoved his jeans off and joined her on the floor, banging his knee on the leg of an armchair on the way. Swearing, he rolled onto his back. ‘You got an aversion to beds?’

  ‘No, they’re great for sleeping.’ His minor mishap had broken the tension and she laughed. From her supine position, she raised herself onto her elbows. ‘Ouch. Want me to kiss that better for you?’

  His pulse beat fast and harsh in his ears. ‘Yeah, but it’s not my knee that’s hurting.’

  ‘I know,’ she said and shuffled up beside him, tapped his nose with a fingertip. ‘Close your eyes.’

  ‘I—’

  ‘Remember that conversation? The one where I own the dance floor? And I’m not going to lie back and let you do all the work, so man up, Leo, and let me be me for you.’

  ‘I never said...you assumed...’ He trailed off, his whole body tightening as her intention became clear, and closed his eyes as requested.

  He heard the soft shoosh of the room’s air conditioning, a busker playing the bagpipes down at Salamanca, Brie’s not-quite-steady breathing near his ear. He drew in the scent of her bare skin and struggled with the primitive urge to tumble her onto her back and finish it, but he’d given his word and he owed her.

  Then warm lips were dropping a path of petal-soft kisses as she slithered over him, silky skin abrading his. Smooth hands, capable fingers, tracing his collarbones, circling his nipples. A harsh groan tore from his throat but she didn’t stop.

  Lower.

  Lightly touching his scarred torso, running her fingers over his hip’s damaged and knotted skin. His eyes snapped open. Just simple acceptance in hers. She smiled as she lowered her lips there, to kiss the puckered surface. ‘It’s your story here and it’s a magnificent one,’ she said. ‘One of courage and sacrifice.’

  Leo thought he nodded but his eyes blurred and he closed them again so she wouldn’t see a man reduced to the humiliation of something close to tears by a woman’s tender words and understanding touch.

  Lower.

  Mindless mayhem, drugging delights. ‘Breanna,’ he gritted through his teeth, filling his greedy, restless hands with her hair, twisting and bunching the silky strands in his fists. Taking him far away from the ugliness.

  And as she shot him skyward with her mouth and tongue, teeth and hands, every dark fantasy he’d had about her faded in the brilliance of the real thing.

  Then just when he thought he couldn’t last another second, she rose up, straddled herself over him and sank slowly down his length. Tight, hot, wet. He opened his eyes to watch. Her heavy breasts hung free, hair in disarray around her shoulders, the black ends caressing her olive skin and wine-dark nipples.

  Their gazes tangled, reflected, entwined. Neither spoke in that breathless hiatus. Neither moved.

  The earth stopped turning. Or maybe it spun out of its orbit—he didn’t know—but he did know in that skipped heartbeat his world changed forever.

  Brie saw the instant his eyes changed. Darkened, deepened. She told herself it was a shifting of the light, a cloud drifting over the sun, that she was imagining it. But she couldn’t seem to get her breath; her heart felt swollen, too big for her chest.

  Simple seduction was no longer the only thing happening in this convenient hotel room. Not after he’d shared his story. They were bonded in some inexplicable way. She knew there were other forces fuelling their passion as she began to move. Slowly. Over him, with him, for him, their movements in perfect sync, as if he’d been made for her at some exclusive Tiffany’s in the sky.

  Their fast demands and desperation yielded to something that flowed slower, richer, stronger. Something that came with consequences because the parameters of their relationship had shifted forever.

  She knew she couldn’t allow it, that she’d have to end it and move on, but right now she’d never felt more free, more alive. Live in the moment, she reminded herself as they crested the wave, tumbled over the other side and slid into a lazy fulfilment.

  Moments later, side by side, they lay staring at the foam-speckled soundproofing on the ceiling. What had happened wasn’t supposed to have happened. Not the sex—the other thing. But she couldn’t walk away from this amazing connection yet. Not yet.

  She exhaled slowly, her body still throbbing, her mind reeling. It took a monumental effort to keep it casual, the way she wanted it. The way she knew he wanted it. ‘I know I said I wanted post-coital conversation, but I think we just said it all with that performance.’

  ‘What did we say?’ He spoke with care, as if worried what she meant.

  ‘You’re good. We’re good. Shall we get going?’

  ‘What’s the rush?’ He traced a tempting finger over her breasts and she very nearly changed her mind.

  ‘You’re not a woman, you wouldn’t understand.’ She rose, grabbing items of clothing and dragging them on, needing to be gone now. Before she had time to think.

  ‘I need to find my passport at some stage...’ She trailed off as his hand wrapped around her ankle then shook her head and moved away with a mountain of regret to tug on her boots. ‘You’ve seen the state of my house. Some stuff’s there, some’s at Jett’s place.’ She gave a half-laugh. ‘Locating it could take a while.’

  ‘You want me to check West Wind?’

  She felt a little shiver at the thought of him checking out her underwear drawer. Some things were simply too private. ‘If you could just look in the living room and kitchen? And my home office is next to the bedroom, the key’s in the top drawer of the kitchen dresser. I’ll search the rest if you don’t find it.’

  ‘You locked me out?’

  Reassured at his almost wounded expression, she smiled. He’d never tried to gain entry to the rooms she’d told him were private. Kudos to him. It meant a lot that she could trust him. ‘That was before. I know you better now.’

  * * *

  In the early hours of Thursday morning, Leo was still awake. In Breanna’s bed in West Wind trying not to notice her lingering perfume, which he couldn’t seem to eradicate from his nostrils.

  Breanna. He’d tried consistently but he didn’t think he’d ever get used to calling her Brie. Yet the casual name suited her personality so well. When he was intimate with her, or thinking intimate thoughts, which was ninety-nine per cent of the time, she was Brie. Perhaps that was why he preferred to use Breanna when interacting with her at other times? It was more formal, one step removed. Maintaining an emotional distance.

  You sure about that distance, Leonardo?

  His mind spun back to the hotel. In that life-changing moment when his emotions had been all over the shop. She was different from anyone he’d ever met and he didn’t seem to know how to be himself
around her. She wasn’t like other women he knew who gushed over receiving flowers. Now he knew why. And who else would argue over the free installation of a fire alarm?

  He wasn’t used to independent, confident women. He didn’t understand them. The kind of women he’d dated had never done a striptease in front of a wall of windows in the glare of full sunlight. They’d never tried to seduce him in a lift.

  Most hadn’t acknowledged his scars, preferring to ignore them altogether than ask the awkward questions. He’d seen distaste in the eyes of some who had. Not Breanna. She’d embraced them as a part of who he was, and wasn’t that refreshing?

  None of those women knew his story. None had ever tugged on his heartstrings. Shoving back the quilt, he stalked to the window and stared at East Wind, silhouetted against the night sky. Heartstrings? That was new.

  But then he’d never been with a woman like Breanna Black.

  Brie.

  The instant he’d caught sight of her last Saturday after just a few days of not seeing her, he’d realised how much he’d missed her sassiness, her directness. You knew where you stood with her. If she didn’t like something, you knew about it. For a mad moment, he’d had this crazy notion that he could get used to seeing her every day.

  Was it so crazy?

  On an oath he swung away, headed downstairs for a glass of water. Time to think seriously about what she meant to him. How she might fit into his life.

  Brie.

  Busy, energetic and professional. She put others’ needs before her own. But the tornado-swept room she called her home office, her living spaces, which should be havens of relaxation: all total chaos. Anathema to him. Gulping water, he started upstairs once more. He sincerely hoped she found her passport.

  Brie.

  Hopelessly disorganised.

  He’d searched where she’d asked, without success. In the meantime, he’d reorganised her garden shed and purchased a palm for the front veranda and a few exotic herbs missing from her collection. The least he could do to repay her for the convenience of allowing him to stay here. He’d made a start on sorting her library but decided to postpone. He could be overstepping the mark.

  All of which had left him seriously behind schedule.

  * * *

  On Thursday afternoon, Leo was at Breanna’s dining-room table still finishing the project report he needed to take with him before they left the country tomorrow afternoon. He’d never been so disorganised before an important business meeting.

  After last night’s soul-searching he’d spent the morning relocating his gear to East Wind. The renovations had been finished for a few days but he’d dragged his feet moving back, telling himself he had too much work to catch up on. Plus he’d been to Freycinet then on to Launceston to meet with clients.

  Now, he knew, it was time; too much had changed between them. With Sunny’s furniture not here yet, he’d sleep on the floor when they returned from Singapore. Preferable to lying awake in Breanna’s bed with nothing to do but think.

  His heart skipped a beat when her personalised chime sounded on his mobile. ‘Breanna. How’s—?’

  ‘I can’t find my passport.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘I’ve been to West Wind while you were away like I told you—just very quickly, to search my room. I didn’t snoop through your stuff, bu—’

  ‘I know you didn’t snoop, Breanna.’ He drummed his fingers on the dining table. ‘You’ve left it till twenty-four hours before we leave to inform me you still haven’t found your passport?’

  ‘You said you’d be busy. I didn’t want to bother you with my little problem. And I was packing,’ she said, defensive. ‘I have to dress to impress. What if one of your important colleagues sees me? I think I’ll get a new bikini...’

  ‘Little problem?’ He rubbed a hand over gritty eyes. To erase the swimsuit image or was it frustration with her skewed priorities? ‘You don’t need to wear anything but skin to impress me and you won’t be meeting my colleagues, so stop with the packing and start with the hunting. Have you any idea where you saw it last?’

  ‘So you hide your dates from your colleagues?’

  ‘We were talking about your passport?’

  ‘I haven’t used it since I went to Bali three years ago.’

  ‘Breanna.’ He rolled his gaze to the ceiling. How could he have even contemplated being involved with such a disorganised person? ‘Do you want me to look anywhere else?’

  ‘Would you? I’m pretty sure now that it’s in the kitchen. I had this flash—’

  He hit Save and pushed back his chair. ‘I scoured the kitchen.’

  ‘Have you checked the biscuit barrel with the fifties girl picture on the front? The brunette in the spotty dress? Top shelf right up high next to the fridge.’

  He snapped his fingers. ‘Now why didn’t I think of that?’

  ELEVEN

  Brie dangled her legs over the edge of the opulent Marina Bay Sands Hotel’s infinity pool and watched the early morning sun paint Singapore’s unique skyscrapers pink and gold.

  She wriggled her toes in the water while she admired her tropical-print bikini, newly purchased from the Skypark shop. Leo had left for his meeting thirty minutes ago. The poor guy had looked whacked this morning. She grinned to herself—probably because they’d not reached their room till just before one a.m. after the long flight. It was now seven-thirty and they’d put those few hours to good use. Not a lot of sleeping had been involved.

  She’d zoned out for most of the journey in her spacious business-class seat whereas Leo had been working like a fever on his laptop. So she was super refreshed and ready to hit The Shoppes at the bottom of the spectacular structure as soon as she’d eaten what promised to be a delicious breakfast in one of the restaurants conveniently close to the pool.

  The morning passed too quickly: a frivolous shopping spree, a thirty-minute massage, morning tea in a speciality chocolate café.

  At two p.m. Leo met her in the lobby and they were chauffeured by limo to the famous Raffles Hotel with its attractive British architecture. They enjoyed the Tiffin Room’s curry buffet sitting at one of the black lacquered bamboo tables and swapping stories about their respective mornings.

  After lunch Leo enjoyed showing Breanna the stunning Gardens by the Bay. They wandered through the two conservatories— climate-controlled biomes aptly named the Flower Dome and the Cloud Forest.

  He explained to his rapt audience of one that a sustainable feature was the horticultural waste generated within the Flower Dome, which in turn generated electricity to maintain its cool, temperate mini-climate.

  Then they took an open-air vehicle to the solar-powered Supertrees nearby. He’d visited the vertical gardens half a dozen times and their other-worldly beauty still captured his enthusiasm and imagination. Today was a bonus; he was sharing it with a first-time visitor who obviously enjoyed it as much as he.

  ‘Amazing, aren’t they?’ She turned a circle gazing up at the impressive steel structures covered in ferns and tropical blooms. ‘They remind me of that movie, Avatar.’

  ‘Yes, they are a bit Pandora-like.’ He took her hand. ‘There’s a spectacular view from the skywalk.’

  ‘So what’s your professional interest in them?’ she asked as they viewed the Bay Gardens from the sky bridge connecting some of the fifty-metre-high structures.

  He explained how they mimicked real trees by harnessing solar energy, which was used for their attractive lighting, and how rainwater was collected for irrigation and water displays. ‘My business colleagues and I are working on a plan for something similar in Australia. Probably somewhere along Sydney Harbour or nearby.’

  He filled her in on his meeting with his Singaporean counterparts. Their combined plan to create similar structures in Australia within the next five years. His particular expertise in this innovative and specialised field was somewhat unique—he’d put forward a bold initiative for the Aussie Outback, which had been received
with cautious optimism.

  They stopped to buy ice creams. When had he talked about his business life with anyone beyond the occasional colleague? He’d discussed aspects with Sunny, but only when she’d asked, which wasn’t often since she said getting info from him was as painful as chopping off her violinist’s fingers one by one with a rusty blade.

  He worked alone and liked it that way. But he found sharing his work with Breanna, seeing the genuine interest in her lively eyes, and answering her intelligent questions, a rewarding and energising experience. Almost as good as sex. He remembered last night’s marathon—the way she’d unravelled beneath him—and smiled to himself. Almost as good but not quite.

  ‘What’s going on in there?’ She tapped his temple, a sultry look in her midnight eyes. ‘It’s obviously wicked and debauched.’

  ‘Wildly.’ He pressed his lips to her forehead, tasted her skin’s salty glow. ‘Far too wicked to tell you in public.’

  ‘So let’s go back to our room and we can have Show and Tell.’ She shifted against him in the growing dimness. ‘I can’t wait.’

  ‘Soon.’ He took her hand, tugged her close so that her hard little nipples grazed his shirt, an appetiser before the main course later. ‘I want you to see the light and sound show first.’

  ‘We’ll make our own,’ she murmured against his ear.

  Sensitive body parts constricted at the husky promise. ‘I’m counting on it.’

  As dusk came, the trees’ solar lights began to glimmer like colourful glow-worms, then the featured show lit up the sky. The audience oohed and aahed. Leo preferred to watch the rainbow reflections playing over Breanna’s animated face.

  Afterwards, he wined and dined her at Boat Quay, a vibrant open-air restaurant strip along the Singapore River that reminded him of Sydney’s bustling Darling Harbour.

  When they at last stepped into their suite, Brie entered first and left the lights off. She set her handbag down on her way to admire the night view, her eyes drifting inevitably to the king-sized bed as she passed.