by Joss Wood
‘I take it The Pain wasn’t exactly supportive of your studying?’
Willa snorted.
She’d begged Wayne to allow her to study but he’d laughed away her ambitions. Even if he had said yes she’d known that keeping up with her course work while following her husband around the world like a lapdog would be impossible.
It had only been when Wayne had started leaving her at home in their luxury penthouse apartment—probably around the time he’d engaged in his first affair—that she’d signed up for an online degree and studied in secret, knowing how dismissive and cruel Wayne could be. There had simply been no point in giving him more ammunition to take pot-shots at her...
When he’d found her graduation papers, hidden under the lavender-scented drawer lining of her lingerie drawer—why he’d been looking in her panty drawer still boggled the brain—he’d been, as she’d suspected, completely dismissive, belittling her dreams of having any type of professional career, and also furious because she’d pulled the wool over his eyes.
That argument—and the fact that he’d had smudged lipstick on his jawline—had been the final straw, the last nail in the coffin, the excuse she’d been looking for to walk away from him...and to keep on walking, straight into a lawyer’s office.
‘No, he wasn’t supportive. Anyway, let’s not talk about him. But if you hear of anything will you let me know?’
‘Sure. So, I had a drink with Scott and he told me that you guys met for coffee yesterday?’
‘We did. And Brodie sent me a message apologising for not making the party. He’s invited us both out to lunch next week as he’s in Sydney.’
‘But he didn’t invite Scott?’
Willa’s chest lifted in frustration. ‘Nope. Anyway, I looked at Brodie’s photos online and, while he was always a good-looking guy, it looks like he’s lifted sexy to a whole new level. So has Scott, actually.’
‘I know. I thought that too,’ Amy replied, wrinkling her nose. ‘But the thought of doing either of them is like...’
‘Creepy? Incesty?’
‘Yeah—that! I feel like I’m perving over my brother!’ Amy looked relieved. ‘I thought it was only me...I’m glad you feel the same.’
‘Maybe it’s got something to do with the fact that we’ve seen them snot-drunk and puking?’ Willa mused, but knew that, for her, it was more the fact that neither of them—good-looking devils that they were—could hold a candle to the man who’d shared her bed on Saturday night. Who’d share her bed tonight...
And she suspected that, for Amy, neither of them matched up to a certain man in Singapore who was also her brother.
Dammit.
* * *
The doorbell rang at about eleven-thirty and Willa put her hand on her stomach as she left the library and walked down the passage to the hall. She was dressed in a brief T-shirt and briefer denim shorts and her feet were bare... This was a booty call and she hadn’t bothered to dress up—mostly because she wanted to get naked as soon as possible.
Willa opened the front door and there he was, standing beneath the porch light. Her heart bounced off a rib and she licked her lips, looking for any moisture she could find. In a pair of smart grey suit pants, a pale blue shirt and grey tie, he looked tall, rangy, fit...businesslike.
Willa connected with his eyes and sighed... Along with lust—and there was a lot of that in his eyes—she saw frustration and stress and a whole bunch of exhausted.
‘Hey...’ she murmured, grabbing his tie and pulling him inside.
‘Hey back.’ Rob put his hands on her hips, his thumbs skimming the strip of bare skin between her shorts and T-shirt. But instead of kissing her, he laid his forehead on hers and sighed.
Willa hooked her hand abound the back of his neck and felt the tension in his rock-hard muscles. ‘Bad day?’
‘Frustrating rather than bad. Sorry I’m late.’
‘No worries. Want a drink?’
Willa took his hand and led him to the kitchen, directing him to a bar stool before opening the fridge door and pulling out a bottle of wine.
Rob wrinkled his nose. ‘Light, calorie-free wine? Got any whisky?’
‘Sure.’
Willa replaced the wine and turned to a cupboard next to the fridge. She pulled out a bottle of Macallan and swore she heard Rob groan in appreciation. Pouring two fingers into a tumbler, she added ice and handed it over. Rob sipped, closed his eyes, and rested the glass against his forehead.
The man was exhausted, Willa realised. The shadows she’d seen under his eyes at the weekend were now solid purple stripes. He’d scraped the scruff off his face, but she could see stress in his hard jaw, in the deepening of the fine lines around his face.
‘You okay, Rob?’
Rob ran a hand across his face. ‘Yeah, sorry...little distracted. It’s been a couple of long, tense, tough days.’
‘Any particular reason?’
‘Just the normal stress when you’re trying to set up a business in a foreign country. The rand also weakened substantially today, which shrinks our capital.’
His days had been more than difficult—they’d been brutal. She could tell by the stress in his shoulders, the banked anger, the waves of frustration.
‘We don’t have to do this tonight. If you’d rather go...do.’ Willa licked her lips. ‘Don’t feel like you have to stay.’
Rob put his glass down on the granite counter-top, leaned forward and hooked his finger in the V of her shirt, pulling her gently towards him. ‘There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. I’ve been thinking of you, remembering you...under me, wet and warm...every night and a whole lot during the day. Sexy daydreams of you have been hell on my productivity.’
Well, then... Okay...
Rob’s hands skimmed up her sides and his thumbs whispered over her breasts—a teasing hint of pleasure to come. Willa felt warm, moist lust between her legs as she stepped between Rob’s open thighs, almost swallowing her tongue at the sight of the long, thick ridge in his pants.
‘I need to be inside you,’ Rob muttered, his mouth against her neck, making her shiver.
Willa pulled his tie, then left it loose as she worked to undo the buttons on his shirt. Then she pulled his shirt apart and placed her hands on his warm, masculine skin. She could smell his deodorant, soap, and warm, excited, turned-on male.
‘I need you to be inside me.’ Willa told him, scraping her nails across his flat nipples, down his ribcage and over his ridged abdominal muscles.
And she did. She’d never felt quite as alive, as fulfilled, as she had when Rob had been inside her, rocking her into oblivion. Willa dropped her hand over his crotch and lightly cupped him. She tipped her head back to smile into his eyes before stepping away from him and holding out her hand.
When he stood and enveloped her hand in his much broader, stronger one she sent him a slow smile. ‘Come to bed and let’s get naked.’
Rob’s eyes lightened and he flashed her one of his devastating grins. ‘You really are getting the hang of this booty call stuff.’
* * *
Setting up a business in a foreign country was a pain, Rob thought, pressing the doorbell of Willa’s idiotically big house, and it was full of stupidities and intricacies that he didn’t find back home. So why, instead of working his way through the pile of documents that sat on the desk—as Patrick was doing at the moment, in the two-bedroomed apartment he’d rented in the city—was he standing here hoping she’d open the door?
And why wasn’t she opening the door? he wondered, looking around. Her little Mercedes sat in the driveway and he could hear music—hard rock and loud—coming from somewhere inside the house.
Turning the knob on the door, he frowned when it opened soundlessly. Burglars? Rapists? Murderers? Willa...haven’t you heard of those? He walke
d into the massive hall, deliberately ignoring the green monstrosity that called itself art on the wall.
Rob left the keys to the SUV he’d rented and his wallet and mobile on the hall table, made sure that the front door was locked, and then walked through the house in the direction of the music, looking into rooms as he walked down the passage.
Massive reception room with heavy furniture and an air of emptiness, a library/TV lounge that looked messy and lived-in, and a formal dining room with a huge dining table and more weird art.
The music was increasing in volume and he looked to his right, where he saw a short flight of stairs. Walking down them, he lifted his brows when he saw the fully equipped gym downstairs. He whistled in appreciation at the up-to-date equipment: she had most of what he intended to put in his gyms.
A massive plasma screen TV covered half of one wall and on the mat in front of it was a sweaty and puffy Willa—dressed in the tiniest pair of gym shorts and a T-back crop-top—trying to follow the instructions of a Tae Bo instructor. Kick, punch, side kick...
Rob smiled, Willa was about as co-ordinated as a newly born giraffe—all arms and legs heading in different directions.
Rob looked around, found the music system and hit the ‘off’ button. Willa whirled around at the silence. She caught a glimpse of him and screamed, instinctively lifted a barbell above her head.
Rob grinned and lifted up his hands. ‘Relax, Wills, it’s me.’
Willa lowered the weight and glared at him. ‘Thanks bunches—you just took ten years off my life. Do you normally stroll into people’s houses and scare them to death?’
‘I wouldn’t have strolled in at all if you hadn’t left your front door unlocked! That’s stupid!’
Willa tapped her foot on the exercise mat and he could see the irritation on her face.
‘And do you normally stroll into people’s houses with no notice and call them stupid?’
Rob nodded, acknowledging the criticism. She might have got married when she was a baby but she wasn’t anyone’s push-over—or at least not any more.
‘Sorry...let’s start again. Hi, how are you?’
He could see her debating whether she should give him more grief, but then her shoulders dropped and the moment passed.
‘Hi back.’ She ran her hand over her forehead and grimaced at her sweaty fingers. ‘Yuck. Sorry—not at my freshest...’
‘There’s nothing wrong with a bit of sweat.’ He looked around again. ‘This is impressive, Willa. Did you buy the equipment?’
Willa picked up a gym towel and rubbed the back of her neck and her face. ‘No, it all came with the house. Wayne-the-Pain bought the house shortly before we separated; the entire house and all its contents were up for auction. That’s one of the things he does—snaps up properties for a song and resells them. He bought the place—all furniture, art, gym equipment included—and moved me into it until we finalised the divorce. Then I hired Kate as my lawyer and she decided that I should keep it as a sorry-I-cheated present.’
‘Hell of a present,’ Rob said, inspecting a brand-new, never-been-used rowing machine. ‘So you don’t use the equipment?’
‘It intimidates the hell out of me,’ Willa replied, heading for a small bar fridge and pulling out a bottle of water.
He nodded when she offered him one and caught the bottle she tossed in his direction with one hand. After cracking the lid and swallowing half the bottle, she nodded at the instructor on the big screen, who was still kicking and punching.
‘I stick to Tae-Bo and Pilates. And I run.’
‘I could show you how to use it properly if you’d like,’ Rob suggested, moving to a treadmill and pressing the computer to see its functions. He whistled, impressed. It was top of the line and, again, unused. What a waste.
Willa walked back to the mat and sat down under the air-conditioning vent. ‘Have you always been sporty?’ she asked. ‘Is that why you do what you do?’
Rob shot her a quick look, about to give her his stock answer—that he’d always been sporty and going into the fitness industry had been a natural progression for him. He was sporty, and it had been a natural progression for him. But his Uncle Sid’s gym—that smelly, masculine environment—had been the place he’d run to after his dad died.
‘My dad died when I was sixteen, I used to go to my uncle’s gym with him. It was the place where I still felt connected to my dad.’
After his mum had split from Stefan, leaving him with an inability to trust and a zero tolerance for bullies, exercise had been the way he’d held the demons of guilt and recrimination at bay.
‘My Uncle Sid wanted to retire, and when I had the opportunity to buy a half-share of his gym along with Patrick, his son, I jumped at the chance.’
And three years later he and Patrick had had a string of sports equipment and clothing stores and a handful of men-only gyms. Now, ten years later, they were expanding into Australia.
‘And that was your first business?’
‘Mmm. We kept the gym a men-only operation—kept it low-key and unpretentious but brilliantly equipped—and it started gaining a reputation as a place for serious athletes who paid less attention to how they looked and more attention to how they felt. We encourage our clients to be strong, healthy, balanced, fit—we don’t support bodybuilding for the sake of bodybuilding.’
Rob lifted his eyes from the monitor to see Willa looking quizzically at him.
‘I don’t believe in it. I use the machines because they have a place in a workout, but I—and my staff—encourage our clients to use a range of exercise techniques. Martial arts, Pilates, running, swimming, boxing...’
Willa leaned back on her hands and stretched out her legs. ‘I still don’t think that opening another gym in today’s market is a good idea.’
Rob swung the punchbag as he moved over to the mat and sat down next to her. ‘You need to stretch or else you’re going to stiffen up.’
He waited until Willa had grabbed her toes and groaned as her muscles pulled.
‘I have actually done some research, Willa,’ he said mildly. ‘I’ve visited a number of the competition’s gyms in various areas and, while they are suitable for daily use, the staff and the atmosphere don’t work for a serious athlete. The people I am targeting for my three gyms are hardcore athletes—sportsmen who need more intensive training. My gyms come with personal trainers who are a class above; they can design programs tailored to individuals. I’ll have physiotherapists and dieticians on the premises, bio-kinetics.’
Willa just looked at him and he could see the wheels in her head turning.
‘Sounds expensive.’
‘It is expensive, but market research tells me that there are many people—and sports organisations—willing and prepared to pay the price to get the results. There’s a big gap in the market and I intend to fill it.’
‘You sound confident,’ Willa said, stretching her arms over her head.
Her breasts lifted and her nipples, easily discernible through her crop-top, pebbled. His mouth dried up and his shorts tightened.
‘I am confident...if we get through the damn paperwork required to set up a business by a foreigner in your country.’
Willa’s face brightened. ‘I could help you with that.’
Yeah... Sorry, gorgeous, but I’m not trusting my brand-new business to someone with a degree but no experience. Even if I think you’re smart...
‘Patrick, my cousin, is an accountant, and he’s here with me. He’s sorting it out.’
‘Okay.’ Willa’s lips twisted as she stood up, hurt flashing in her eyes.
Feeling as if he’d kicked her cat, and not sure why, Rob gently hooked his leg around her calves and tumbled her back down to the mat. She fell on her back, as he’d intended her to, and within seconds he was leaning over
her, his hands on either side of her face.
Brushing her mouth with his—once, twice—he smiled. ‘Want to fool around?’
He saw her intake of breath and watched as her neck and cheeks flushed at the memory of shared pleasure. Her eyes deepened with lust as her hands sneaked up under his shirt and skittered over his abs, around and down...
‘I’m all sweaty,’ Willa protested, but not very convincingly.
‘I own gyms. Sweat doesn’t scare me.’ Rob grinned his pirate grin. ‘And, honey, you’re about to get a whole lot sweatier.’
CHAPTER FIVE
WILLA AND ROB were on the pier below her house. His feet were dangling in the warm waters of Parsley Bay, the sun was setting, and she was lying flat-out, her head resting on Rob’s muscular thigh.
She looked up at him. His eyes were hidden behind wraparound sunglasses but he practically oozed testosterone. She was quite certain that if she looked closely she would be able to see it bubbling out from every pore. And it wasn’t only his hard, muscular body that screamed it—he had a don’t-mess-with-me attitude that melted women’s panties and made men wary.
Yet he was, to all intents and purposes, still a stranger. It seemed strange that he could know her body so well, and she his, but she didn’t even know the bare bones of his life.
‘Where do you live in South Africa?’
Rob, his palms behind him on the deck, looked down at her. ‘Jo’burg...Johannesburg,’ he corrected. ‘I live in a suburb called Sandton in our family home.’
Okay, he’d said that there was no significant other in his life, but she thought she’d check. ‘Alone?’
‘No, I live there with my six wives and ten kids,’ Rob said wryly. ‘Actually, I share the house with my younger sister Gail.’
‘Parents?’
‘My mum lives about ten minutes away. I told you that my dad died when I was a teenager.’
Willa knew that his hard-as-nails, don’t-go-there voice was enough warning for anyone to back off and change the subject—but, strangely, Rob didn’t intimidate her at all. He could be gruff and tactless and brutally honest but he was a straight-shooter. If he didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t.