Harlequin Romance August 2014 Bundle

by Douglas, Michelle; Gordon, Lucy; Pembroke, Sophie; Hardy, Kate

  He pushed away from the table and paced to the other side of the room before striding back. ‘I’m going to get to the bottom of this bloody mystery!’

  He spat out his bloody with so much anger she couldn’t help wincing.

  He dragged a hand down his face, glancing back at her with hooded eyes. ‘Sorry.’

  She shook her head, cursing her own prissiness. ‘You don’t have to apologise. I understand your venom.’

  ‘You know what, Princess?’ He took his seat again. ‘I believe you do.’

  She didn’t want to follow that conversational thread so she merely said, ‘I think it wise to try and discover who your sibling might be.’

  ‘Except I’ve overstayed my welcome at Tash’s.’

  She doubted that.

  ‘Besides, she’s in love. I’m cramping her style.’ He grimaced. ‘And I can’t stomach much more of her and Mitch’s lovey-dovey stuff.’

  That sounded more like it.

  For some reason, the skin on her arms started to chill.

  ‘So what I was going to suggest is that you let me use this cottage rent-free for the next few weeks. I mean, it’s just sitting here doing nothing.’

  The chill spread up her neck and down her spine.

  ‘And in return I’ll do some work on the big house.’

  The chill disappeared. He didn’t mean to take advantage of her after all?

  ‘What kind of work?’

  He lifted one lazy shoulder. ‘Whatever repairs I manage to get to and maybe even some painting.’

  That would be brilliant! She opened her mouth to snap up his offer before he could retract it, but a glance in his direction had her closing it again. Rick had a look in his eyes that she recognised. A look she’d seen in her father’s eyes—an I’m going to get my own way and I don’t care by what methods look.

  She wasn’t a pushover any more. Her father had discovered that and now Rick could too. She pushed her grandmother’s jewellery box towards him. ‘Put that back where we found it.’

  ‘Is that a yes or a no to my proposal?’

  ‘It’s negotiations are underway but, regardless of the outcome, it doesn’t affect the fate of the jewellery box.’

  He leaned back and folded his arms. For a moment she thought he was going to refuse. And then she started. ‘Heavens, where are my manners? Would you please put the box back in the ceiling?’

  One side of his mouth hooked up. ‘I wasn’t waiting for a please, Princess.’

  ‘I know, but there’s no excuse for bad manners. Have you seen enough of the cottage to satisfy your purposes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then I propose we go back up to the house and see if we can come to some arrangement that will satisfy mine.’

  He laughed at that. She wished he hadn’t. He looked younger, nicer, when he laughed and it had the potential to turn her to jelly.

  She didn’t need jelly but steel.

  Without another word, Rick rose and placed the box back in the ceiling. Nell locked the door behind them and pocketed the key. Rick watched her, but he didn’t say anything. In fact, neither one of them spoke on the walk back to the house.

  When they reached it, Nell cleared her throat. ‘I’d prefer to nail you down to specifics, Rick. How long do you think you’ll stay?’

  He shrugged. ‘Can we start with a month?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ She pulled her no-nonsense business voice out and dusted it off. ‘We can agree to a week-by-week arrangement if need be after that.’

  ‘Fine.’

  Was he laughing at her? She glanced across but couldn’t tell. ‘So, included in your four weeks’ worth of repairs...’ she walked through to the front of the house to the grand hall with its staircase that curved up to the first floor and pointed to the front door ‘...can you fix that?’

  ‘Check.’

  She didn’t care if he was laughing at her. She tossed her head and walked into the grand parlour with its enormous bay window. ‘Can you fix the hole in the wall?’

  He walked over to it, tested it with his fingers, bent over to examine it more closely and the denim of his jeans stretched across those powerful thighs and taut butt and Nell had to swallow as her saliva glands kicked into overdrive. Oh, my word. Rick Bradford filled out a pair of jeans to perfection. Her fingers fluttered about her throat. Her eyes widened in an effort to take in as much of the view as they could. A hunger, deep and gnawing, that no number of cupcakes would assuage, racked her.

  Rick turned. ‘This doesn’t—’

  He broke off, a grin bold and sure spreading across his face. Folding his arms, he leant a shoulder against the wall. ‘See anything you like, Princess?’

  Heat scalded her face. She wished the floor would open up and swallow her. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ But her voice came out at a squeak, which only made his grin widen.

  She gestured to the wall. ‘You were saying?’

  Very slowly, he sobered and straightened. ‘I’m not on offer, Nell. I’m not part of the bargain.’

  ‘I never for one moment considered you were.’ How could he cheapen not only her but himself like that? And then she remembered his mother had been a prostitute.

  She closed her eyes and swallowed. If she hadn’t been weak fifteen years ago, if she’d stood up for Rick, she could walk away from all of this now and...

  Oh, who was she kidding? It didn’t erase her sense of responsibility towards John. The way he’d treated Rick was beyond the pale, but there had to be a reason for all of this—something they couldn’t see yet.

  She forced her eyes open. ‘Can we please get back to the task at hand?’

  His lips twisted. ‘Gladly.’ He gestured to the wall. ‘This looks like damage caused by something hard or heavy being banged against it.’

  That’d be the removal men her father had hired to pillage the house of its expensive antiques.

  ‘I can replaster it and then paint the entire room.’

  That was even worth putting up with Rick’s mockery!

  ‘Then you have yourself a deal.’

  He laughed. ‘You have no idea, do you?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘So far we’ve nailed down about a week’s worth of work.’

  Was that all?

  ‘I’ll fix the guttering that’s falling off the outside of the house—that’s another day’s work.’

  Wow. Um... ‘What about painting the outside of the house?’ It was badly in need of it.

  He shook his head. ‘That’s too big a job for one person. Given the style and heritage of this place, it’d be best left to the professionals. Besides, I’m not sure you could afford the materials at the moment if money is tight.’

  Her mouth dried. ‘How much would it cost?’

  ‘For paint, scaffolding and labour? I wouldn’t expect you to see any change from twenty grand.’

  So much? She needed to sit down. Only there wasn’t a stick of furniture in the room. And yet if she were to put her plan into action it would need to be done.

  ‘I can ring around and get some quotes for you if you like?’

  She nodded. ‘I’ll need it for the business plan I mean to take to the bank.’

  ‘I know this is none of my business...’

  She glanced up at him.

  ‘But is this place really worth going into so much debt for?’

  ‘Yes.’ She’d made a promise—a promise she had no intention of breaking. Her hands clenched. She could make this work!

  Rick walked across to her with that indolent loose-hipped stride that could make her mouth dry in a millisecond. He stopped less than two feet away. His hands went to his hips—lean, sexy hips—and he leaned in towards her with narrowed eyes. ‘Wh
at are your plans for this place?’

  A husband and babies—a family. Lots of laughter. And love. But until then...

  ‘I’m going to turn Whittaker House into the most in-demand venue for high tea parties that Sydney has ever seen.’

  He blinked. She waited for him to laugh and tell her she was crazy. Instead, he turned back to survey the room. ‘That’s a nice idea for an old place like this. What rooms are you planning to use as public rooms?’

  ‘These two front reception rooms—the parlour and the drawing room—the dining room as it opens onto the terrace, and the library. They’re all large rooms. For more intimate gatherings, there’s the morning room and the conservatory.’

  She took him through each of the rooms. They ended the tour in the dining room—a grand room with French windows that led out to the terrace. Rick walked around the room’s perimeter, checking skirting boards, picture rails and the windows and doors. ‘Everything looks in pretty good nick, just the odd minor repair here and there—nothing that some putty and a screwdriver wouldn’t fix.’

  She let out a breath.

  ‘It could do with some freshening up, though.’ He pursed his lips. ‘I could paint the two front rooms and this dining room in a month.’

  Her heart didn’t leap with the same unadulterated joy as it had earlier.

  He shuffled his feet. ‘Actually, throw the library in too—there’s not much to do in there.’

  She bit her lip. ‘How much will the materials cost?’

  ‘Depends on the kind of paint you want. You’ll need something durable. What colours were you after?’

  ‘The Victorians weren’t afraid of colour and these rooms are big enough to bring it off. I thought a peacock-blue and a jade-green for the two front rooms, maybe coral in here. The library is lined with bookcases and there’s not a whole lot of wall to paint so maybe just a cream to prevent it from becoming too dark in there.’

  How much would it all cost, though?

  ‘This room opens onto the terrace and lawn. You might want to consider making this the green room to fit in with the garden theme and have the coral room at the front.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a nice idea.’ She pulled in another breath. ‘But how much is this going to cost me?’

  He tapped a finger against his jaw before straightening and naming a figure that made her wince. She nodded. ‘Okay, I can manage that.’ Just. ‘Rick, it looks as if you have yourself a deal.’

  He sent her a sly smile. ‘Not so fast, Princess—negotiations aren’t over yet.’

  They weren’t?

  ‘You drive a hard bargain.’

  He’d have had an easy one if he hadn’t been so honest.

  ‘In exchange for all of this slaving away on your house, I now have an additional demand.’

  She folded her arms. ‘Which is?’

  Just for a moment his gaze lowered to her lips. Her breath stuttered. Oh, he couldn’t mean...?

  They both snapped away from each other at the same time.

  ‘That you provide me with half a dozen cupcakes a day. A working man needs to keep up his strength.’

  She planted her hands to her hips. ‘Rick, you can’t eat six cupcakes a day. You’ll rot your teeth and make yourself sick.’ She stuck out her jaw. ‘How about two cupcakes a day and I’ll throw in some sandwiches?’

  ‘Four cupcakes and some sandwiches.’

  Did he eat properly? Tash was probably taking care of that at the moment. How was he off for money? Not that she could talk, but she was making enough to cover the food bill and she still had some in her savings account, which would cover the cost of paint and materials. Sure, he might be getting rent-free accommodation, but he wouldn’t be earning while he was here. She blew out a breath. ‘And I’ll throw in a Sunday roast.’

  ‘Now you’re talking.’

  ‘C’mon.’ She led him back into the kitchen. Taking a seat at the table, she dragged a notepad towards her and wrote out a brief contract outlining what they’d agreed to. She signed it and then pushed it across to him.

  ‘You think this necessary?’

  ‘I’ve learned not to take chances.’

  His eyes darkened. ‘You’re prepared to trust me with your Gran’s jewels, but not take my word about our deal?’

  ‘I told you already—I don’t believe you’re a thief.’ She glared because he made her feel self-conscious. ‘It doesn’t necessarily follow, though, that I trust you.’

  * * *

  Rick’s heart burned for her, mourned that wide-eyed little girl who’d smiled at him with such open-heartedness it had made him believe there were better things in the world than he’d experienced up to that point.

  ‘That sounds like hard-won wisdom, Princess.’

  She didn’t answer. He signed her contract because he wanted her to trust him. For good or ill.

  ‘You’ve changed, Princess. A lot.’

  She snorted. ‘You mean I’m not fat any more?’

  ‘Don’t use that word!’ His voice came out sharper than he intended, but he couldn’t help it. Reverberating through his head, all he could hear were insults—You’re a fat piece of useless lard! How could anyone love you? You’re fat and ugly! Horrible things flung at women by men who’d meant to wound.

  Nell eyed him warily. He glared at her. ‘You were never fat!’

  Her gaze slid sideways. She lifted a shoulder. ‘I was plump, and I was awkward and almost chronically shy.’

  Those things were true. ‘I always thought you were kind of cute.’

  That made her look back at him. She tried to hide it, but he could tell she wanted to believe him. ‘If that’s the case,’ she said eventually, ‘then you were in the minority.’

  He still thought her cute, but he had no intention of acting on it. She was still trouble. And he avoided trouble wherever he could. And power games. And complications. He pushed his shoulders back. ‘So how’d you go from shy and awkward to polished and sophisticated?’

  She waved that away. ‘It’s too boring for words.’

  Her reluctance intrigued him. ‘I’d like to know.’

  She blew out a breath before jumping up to put coffee on to percolate. He was about to tell her she drank too much caffeine but then she proceeded to set out some of her extraordinary cupcakes and he decided to keep his trap shut.

  ‘Blueberry Delight and Tutti-Frutti,’ she said, pointing. She made coffee and sat again.

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Well?’

  ‘As you’ve probably gathered, I wasn’t precisely the kind of child my parents had been hoping for.’ She blew on her coffee. ‘They’d hoped for some pretty, delicate little thing who did ballet and uttered childish whimsies that charmed everyone.’

  He winced. Nell hadn’t fitted that picture.

  ‘When I became a teenager, my mother hoped I’d become a fashion plate who’d be eager to accompany her on her many shopping expeditions.’

  ‘And your father?’

  ‘Who knows? He’d have probably been happy if his golf buddies made comments about me becoming a heartbreaker and that he’d have to beat the boys away with a big stick.’

  Did she know that was exactly how she could be described now?

  ‘When my grandmother found out how miserable I was she set about helping me.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘She took me to a therapist who helped me overcome my shyness. She took me to a stylist who trained me in what clothes and make-up best suited me, and she found me an up-and-coming young hairdresser who was an absolute whizz.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘Obviously, it didn’t all happen overnight.’

  Rick unclenched a hand to reach for a cupcake. ‘You know your parents were wrong to have such expectations?’ They should both be horsewhipped for making he
r feel like a failure, because she hadn’t met their specific designer mould. People like that shouldn’t have kids.

  ‘I do now.’

  He took a savage bite of cake and frosting. ‘I mean, would you ever do that to a kid?’

  Her eyes flashed. ‘No!’

  He set the cupcake back on his plate and eyed her for a long moment. ‘Why all this determination to avoid self-pity?’

  Something inside her eyes hardened. ‘Because, regardless of my gripes about my parents, I never had it as tough as you or Tash or even Crazy Cheryl who you went to prison for.’ She gave a half smile. ‘Cheryl used to throw stones at me whenever she saw me in the garden.’

  It didn’t surprise him. Cheryl’s home life had been beyond shocking. But...there was more than one way to damage a kid.

  ‘It’s not a contest, Princess.’ She was entitled to her pain and disappointment.

  ‘Tell that to my parents.’

  Exhaustion hit him at the expression on her face. ‘It didn’t work, did it?’ He slumped back. ‘Did they notice at all?’

  ‘They noticed. It just took me a long time to realise that it didn’t make any difference, that it didn’t make them love me more. It just meant they didn’t mind parading me around their friends so much.’

  He wanted to swear, but he knew she wouldn’t like it so he didn’t.

  ‘And then I realised I was wasting all of this time going to parties I didn’t enjoy, buying clothes I didn’t want and doing coffee on a weekly basis with women who called me their friend but who haven’t had the decency to return my phone calls since calamity came calling.’

  He did swear this time.

  She transferred her glare to her coffee. ‘That was when I decided to be done with all that and focus on something more important.’ Her lips lifted. ‘Like cupcakes.’

  He’d have laughed except he suddenly saw it all too clearly, could see now why she’d done what she had.

  ‘You handed your trust fund, your apartment, and your car over to your father because you wanted to make a clean break with your past.’

  ‘Bingo, tough guy.’ She might sound sophisticated and self-assured, but she couldn’t hide the vulnerability that flickered through her eyes. ‘Do you think that’s stupid of me?’