She opened the door and there he was, so tall and handsome. She wanted to kiss him, but the distance in his eyes, the hard line of his jaw made her hesitate. He probably wouldn’t be pleased, but how else was she supposed to let him know how she felt? Before she could talk herself out of it, she put her hands on his shoulders, reached up and kissed him square on the mouth.
‘What was that for?’ he asked as she drew back. As she’d predicted, he didn’t seem entirely thrilled with her greeting.
‘Voting yes.’
He shifted slightly, hand coming to the back of his neck. ‘You know why I did that, right?’
No doubt he’d been thinking more about the town than her, but he’d given her his support anyway. It meant the world to her. ‘You still said yes.’
She stood back to let him in. He shucked his boots, left them lined up neatly just inside the door. So fastidious, she thought, smiling. Leading the way up the long hallway, she heard his sure footsteps as he padded behind her to the kitchen.
‘You’re in a good mood,’ he said, leaning forward against the island bench on strong forearms, facing her as she returned to her seat at the table.
She smiled because she couldn’t help it. Of course she was happy—not only did she have the ball to prepare for, she now knew what she wanted to do with her new life. ‘I am.’
‘When I walked in there this afternoon,’ he continued, ‘you looked about ready to give it to everyone with your broom.’
‘I was tempted. But it worked out in the end.’ Thanks to him. She indicated the paper she’d been working on. ‘These are the colours I want to use for the ball. They’re based on the gums outside.’
He walked over to have a look, and she watched his face above her as he took in her swirls of colour. Green somewhere between olive and forest. Silvery, shimmery grey-browns. Hints of a bright reddish-orange. She hadn’t totally nailed it yet, but she was getting close.
‘Yeah, I suppose I can see that.’ Accompanied by a tight smile.
‘It’s going to be great. We’ve worked out a couple of details already. I’m focusing on getting Mirabook ready. Maureen’s putting together a menu. Katie’s looking into bands, and Helen and your mum are putting together a list of auction items to chase.’
No response. Okay, so despite voting yes, he wasn’t as pumped about the whole idea as she was. In fact, she didn’t like the look on his face; so serious, so intent. She’d had enough bad news delivered over the past year to recognise it when she saw it, and although she’d wanted him to talk to her, she was suddenly scared of what he might say.
She jumped up and headed to the fridge. ‘I was just about to get dinner started. Quiche, maybe. Do you want to stay? I’ll light some candles, we can pretend we’re at a French restaurant.’
He frowned. ‘This isn’t a date, Lily. We’re not … dating.’
She’d wanted to hear some kind of definitive statement on their relationship, but that was so not it. Opening the fridge, she leaned in and pretended to examine the potential dinner ingredients so he couldn’t see how much that hurt. Faking a romantic dinner in a French restaurant was neither an appropriate nor a welcome suggestion, it seemed. She hadn’t been serious, exactly, she was just trying to keep things light. She’d been in such a good mood before he’d turned up.
‘So why are you here then?’ she asked over her shoulder, relieved when the question came out sounding light and breezy.
‘To discuss your long-term plans.’
Lily stood, shutting the fridge behind her without pulling anything out. Seemed like dinner would have to wait. ‘What do you mean?’
He shrugged.
‘Why do you want to know about my plans?’ she pushed.
He just looked at her.
Once again, she felt like she didn’t get it. Didn’t get him. She’d be flattered if she thought he wanted to know her plans because he wanted her to stick around. They might not be ‘dating’, but there was something there. But as much as she would love to believe that, she knew it wasn’t the case.
Such a business-like way of putting it—long-term plans—and it was funny he should come around asking that, because she’d just gone and got herself some. The idea that’d come to her in the ballroom. She was excited about it, almost delirious, in fact, but it was so new, still fragile, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to share it.
Then again, why not? Josh was a business adviser after all. Maybe he’d have some useful input to offer. ‘Well, actually … I’m toying with the idea of setting up Mirabook as a venue for weddings.’
Josh turned to stone before her eyes. He’d seemed cold and hard before, but like this … She could barely believe there was a living, breathing male in there.
‘How long have you been planning this for?’ The question was quiet, his tone calm, but the underlying intensity was almost scaring her.
‘Since I got home this afternoon.’
Josh finally moved, stalking back over to the island bench. He was giving nothing away, nothing, but he was thinking something, that was for sure.
‘I’ve been trying to come up with some way to stay here, and this is it. It’s perfect.’
The more she’d thought about it, the more perfect the idea had seemed. Painting time was dreaming time, and brainwaves had come thick and fast in the hour she’d been sitting at the table.
A commercial kitchen to replace the current one. Complete with in-house chef.
A chapel in the dell behind the orchard. Her brides would have blossoms in spring, fruit and abundant greenery in summer, amazing golds and russets in autumn, and architectural bare branches in winter.
Further on-site accommodation, possibly by redeveloping the barn and stables. That was a pretty grand scheme, she had to admit, but while she was dreaming …
It just felt so right. She could stay here, in this place of peace and beauty; care for it, develop it, and give something back.
Even Josh’s intense stony glare couldn’t make it feel any less perfect.
‘Have you run your own business before?’ he asked. ‘Have you got any idea about keeping books?’
‘No.’
It was a step-up from what she was used to. But she already had the most important parts—Mirabook of course, with its ballroom and verandahs and gardens, and her own talent as an event designer. Maybe she’d hire a business manager.
‘Where’s your clientele going to come from?’
‘Realistically, mostly from Sydney. But some from around the region. Canberra.’
‘You really think people will travel from Sydney?’
‘Yes.’ Of that she was certain. Destination weddings were big business—people flew to Hawaii, Bali and Italy. A three-hour drive from Sydney was nothing.
‘I thought everyone in Sydney hated you.’
People in a certain social circle, yes. ‘Not all four million.’
‘How are you going to finance this business?’
‘A loan, I suppose.’ Her gaze dropped and she realised her arms were folded across her chest, body language Lily knew represented subconscious defence. Why not? This felt like an attack.
‘So you’ve got access to capital? A good credit record? You know how to prepare a business plan?’ His tone was so aggressive she almost winced.
‘Not yet.’ What she had was a surname that was now a millstone around her neck when it came to anything financial. But how much would she need? She could start small, leave off the major works until she’d established herself.
‘Running your own business is hard work. Really hard work.’
‘I’m willing to work hard,’ she interrupted.
‘Might not be enough. Do you know the stats? Over a quarter of small businesses fail within the first year, and three-quarters within five years. And these are people with training and experience.’
So, basically, according to Josh, she didn’t stand a chance.
‘I don’t think you’ve thought this through,’ he said.
‘Besides, you’d have to get council approval. The Yarrow council is pretty strict about who they grant business licences to.’
Good mood? Well and truly crushed. She wasn’t interested in hearing anything else he had to say on the matter. She wished she’d pulled something out of the fridge. Not that she was hungry anymore, but cooking would have given her something to do with her hands, somewhere to fix her eyes on. Something to help hide how devastating all these comments were.
An awkward silence prevailed for a few minutes, which Lily spent studying the patterns in the granite of the island bench. She was hoping Josh had finished, but unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.
‘Given everything that’s happened, how you lost your job, I can see the attraction in thinking about doing your own thing here. But you’ll find another job in Sydney. Like you said, it’s a big place, and all the fuss about your father will die off soon. Something will come up eventually.’ His tone had softened considerably.
She glanced to where he was resting against the opposite end of the bench, but though he was looking at her, she couldn’t read anything in his gaze. Was that his attempt at being kind and comforting? It wasn’t either of those things. She had no intention of returning to Sydney. She didn’t see the point in saying that. Josh obviously had strong opinions, and he was right about one thing—she needed to do more thinking before she could argue against him.
A heavy silence descended.
‘So, I offered to help you get this place ready for the ball,’ Josh said eventually. ‘What do you need me to do?’
Subject closed, apparently.
Part of her was pissed off that he assumed she’d give up, just like that. The other part was grateful he’d changed the subject. Josh was cautious by nature, which was probably a really fine attribute in a lot of circumstances, but she didn’t need to listen to more of that kind of negativity. So she had some details to sort out. So it was going to be risky. She would think about everything he’d said, but that didn’t mean she had to quit before she’d even started.
Putting her irritation to the side, she turned her attention to the question he’d just asked. ‘I’m not sure yet. I’m going to want to paint, but I’ll have to work on the design first. I’ll run it past the committee on Monday, and if they like it, I’ll start thinking about what needs to be done.’
He walked over to the end of the table where the last of her stencilled sheets lay. It was done, ready to hang with the others. He reached out, touched the sheet with a long, tanned finger. ‘Is this part of the design?’
‘No, that’s for my bedroom.’
‘The room you were painting last week?’
‘Yes.’ She paused, finding it difficult to swallow all of a sudden. Something had changed in the air between them. ‘It’s finished now, except for this sheet, she said, purely for something to say.
A pause as he stroked along the ornate geometric pattern. She found herself following along. He cut her a sideways glance, all hot glittery eyes. ‘You want to show me?’
An outrageous bloom of lust blossomed. Was it possible to be simultaneously annoyed and turned on by someone? Clearly it was.
‘I know you’re upset by what I said,’ he said when she didn’t respond, dropping his hand from the sheet and turning to face her. ‘I’m not trying to give you a hard time, Lil. But this is my job. It’s what I do. It’s tough out there. Really tough. I’m just trying to be realistic.’
Yes, probably he was. He’d said things she hadn’t wanted to hear, because she was caught in the excitement of it all. But he was just trying to look out for her, in his own way. She shouldn’t be upset about that.
He came to stand in front of her, hands on the bench on either side of her, trapping her, and offered a slow smile that was like sun coming out after the rain. ‘Show me your bedroom, Lily? Please?’
How could he go from hard and unforgiving to charming in a matter of moments? Then again, it was about the same amount of time it took her to go from pissed off to turned on.
He was inches away, but she wanted him closer. She reached forward, snuck her fingers through the front belt-loops of his jeans, and drew him towards her. ‘I thought we weren’t dating.’
‘We’re not.’ His voice was low and husky.
‘So what is this then?’
He dropped his head, kissed his way across her jaw. Soft little butterfly kisses that melted her insides. ‘You don’t like it?’ he murmured.
‘You know I do.’ She angled her head to give him better access, and he complied by sending kisses down her neck.
‘So why do we have to worry about what it is?’ Hot damp breath blew across the junction between neck and shoulder, sending hot shivers through her. ‘Show me your bedroom, Lily.’
‘You’re pretty hard to say no to, you know.’ It was true, she thought with wonder. Where had the shy hesitant boy she’d known gone?
‘That’s yes then?’
She let her hands drop from his waist, ducked under his arm and headed for the stairs. ‘Bring the sheet,’ she called over her shoulder.
By the time she was half way up the stairs he was close behind her. Her heart-rate doubled, and butterflies started to flutter their way along her belly. Were things going to end up the way she was thinking they would?
She was a little out of her depth. Okay, totally out of her depth. But this was Josh, right?
Entering the room behind her, he came to a complete stop. She turned, wanting to catch his reaction. He was looking around with something approaching awe.
She was pretty pleased with how the room had turned out. She’d gone for a palette of steely-grey, blushing apricot and lots of silver. Everything she’d used, apart from the paint, had come from Mirabook. She’d dismantled the high too-soft bed, moved the frame to another room, and put the mattress directly on the floor. The bed was surrounded by the dyed and patterned sheets she’d worked on, flowing over and around it like a waterfall of ornate exotic tapestries. It was opulent and minimal, strong and whimsical all at the same time. ‘Modern Turkish harem’ she might term it, if she were the kind of designer who named every look.
‘You don’t just put sashes on chairs, do you?’ Josh said eventually.
Is that what he’d thought? Jaysus. ‘Make yourself useful and put the sheet up?’
‘Sure.’
She needed the ladder to reach the railings she’d attached to the ceiling, but Josh was tall enough that he could almost reach them without it. She pulled over a chair resting against a wall. ‘Will this do?’
He stepped up, and for a moment she was worried that the chair wasn’t going to take his weight, but all seemed good, so she stepped back and admired the view. Arms extended above him, she could see the muscles flexing as he worked. In fact, every single muscle was braced to hold his balance as he threaded the home-made curtain over the rail.
His T-shirt had crept up, revealing a large band of firm tanned skin around the top of his low-slung jeans. She couldn’t help but stare at the fascinating dips and ridges of muscle and bone. Who knew hips bones were sexy? She loved Josh’s. She wanted to lean forward, touch her lips to that exact spot.
‘How’s that?’ he asked.
She started, and raised her eyes to his knowing ones. He knew exactly where she’d been staring. Busted.
‘Um. Good,’ she said, then realised she hadn’t looked at the newly hung curtain at all.
He stepped off the chair, returned it to its position against the wall, then dropped to a crouch in front of her. He untied the laces of one blue boot, then the other, then removed them. He stood. Pants came next, and then he took the bottom of her top and pulled it over her head. Dangerous, fluid movements that had her down to panties before she’d even so much as realised what was going on. And then they were gone too, and he was nudging her towards the be
d.
‘Wait,’ she exclaimed, putting a hand on his chest. He stopped and looked down at her hand, waiting for her to speak.
‘I’m all …’ She waved her hands to indicate her naked state. ‘And you’re still … I want you to take your shirt off too.’
He didn’t say no, but he wasn’t exactly ripping it off either.
Had she said the wrong thing? Been too forward? The shirt was just a start—ideally he’d have as little on as she did. He wasn’t the only one who liked skin.
He still hadn’t stripped. ‘Please,’ she added.
He looked at her for a moment, no expression on his face. Considering something, though what, she couldn’t be sure of. In another fluid movement, he drew his top over his head.
That was better, that solid expanse of brown chest waiting for her to touch, and she put her hands up against his warmth, smoothed down and across his rib cage. He breathed in, sharp, and the next moment, he was backing her toward the bed. She was beneath him, the apricot sheets were above and around him. Then she closed her eyes, because his mouth was on hers, demanding, insistent, drugging, and his hands were all over her.
She was oh-so-glad she’d stuck to her guns on his shirt coming off because he was delicious. She ran her hands over his shoulders and arms, loving the feel of his heavy muscles and warm skin. Like a banked fire, the guy generated some serious heat.
She stroked her hands down his back, allowed them to linger a moment on his lower back, then she snuck her fingers under the band of his jeans and worked them around to the front. There were those hip bones. When she traced her fingers up and down the ridges, stretched them out along the hard tender band of flesh in between, he broke the kiss, dropped his head into her neck, and shuddered. It was such a turn on, she almost shuddered too. But she only got a moment or two before he raised his head, reached down between their bodies and pulled one hand, then the other, above her head.
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