Rebel with a Cause

by Natalie Anderson

  But she’d make like Rosanna and have him on her terms. For once in her life she was going to turn her back on responsibility; she’d take a risk and go for something she wanted. She just had to figure out how.

  Lorenzo knew he was being naughty. But there was that bit in him that had always derived pleasure from taking risks. From doing exactly what society said he shouldn’t—stretching the boundaries as far as he could and stopping only just before they broke.

  He had matured—his transgressions were nothing near the edge he’d veered towards all those years ago. He stayed on the right side of the law now. But this oh-so-perfect Miss made him push it. Even just this little bit, to risqué, to rude, when really he wanted to ravish—really, really badly.

  The look on her face had been worth the dodgy removal of his shirt. So worth it—even if he was struggling to contain his wayward hormones now. He just wanted to reach out and pull her against him—hard. His skin was on fire—had been since she’d touched him in his apartment the other day. Her small, cool hand hadn’t soothed him at all—had only stirred the desire he’d already been battling to control. In those first twenty-four hours when the sickness was at its worst, he’d done nothing but dream of her. He was still dreaming of her and where he wanted that hand.

  He’d been working too hard, round the clock with no room for fun. But it should ease up soon. Once the bar was open he’d be able to take a step back. And have some fun. Then again, there was no reason why he couldn’t have some fun right now.

  Her eyes had narrowed. He could just about see the cogs turning and whirring in her brain. The vixen-with-training-wheels looked as if she was plotting.

  A phone rang—hers. Her hand went to her bag. He was disappointed to see her move. But he didn’t move away. Took too much pleasure in watching her shrink back an awkward inch as she answered. But felt the pleasure turn to ash when he heard the male tones. He listened as she organised.

  ‘Yes, don’t worry, Ted. I’m picking it up on my way home. I’ll drop it round before six.’

  Who the hell was Ted? Lorenzo waited ’til she said goodbye. Then let the power of silence work its magic.

  ‘That was my brother. Sorry,’ she finally said.

  He took the phone from her hand and switched it off. ‘When you’re with me, all your attention is with me.’

  Her eyes widened. He watched her swallow.

  ‘On work,’ he added, way too late.

  He held out her phone for her to take back. Smiling inside as he saw her jerky movements. Yeah, he liked the way he could bother her. Because she really bothered him. He took a careful step away—right now they both needed a minute. ‘I’ll go get my shirt and then we’ll go through the stuff for Whistle, right?’

  Sophy poured the entire contents of the ice tray into her glass—not caring that half the blocks fell out onto the bench and skidded onto the floor. She was unbearably hot—Lorenzo putting his shirt on had made no difference. For over an hour she’d suffered—sitting at the desk while he hovered beside her, behind her. Filling in the holes that had appeared in the days when she’d been working without the information only he or Cara could provide. She’d had the rest of the day to recover—but she hadn’t succeeded. She gulped down half the glass of water, sagged against the bench, she was so out of her depth.

  ‘Where have you been? I’m only home for half a day and I wanted us to go for a pedicure and—’

  Sophy turned, dropping the glass in the sink. ‘You’re back!’ Thrilled, she ran across the room and hugged her elusive flatmate.

  ‘Okay, you’ve missed me too.’ Rosanna’s arms came round her and tightened. Then pushed her away. ‘Shirts, doll, we can’t crush our shirts.’

  Sophy laughed. In the sentence of life, Sophy figured she was like a verb—the action, the one who got things done. Not very exciting perhaps, but necessary. Rosanna, however, was the exclamation mark. The rare beauty that could fill a whole paragraph—a whole room—with excitement. She even looked like one. Always dressed in black, she was a thin streak of long limbs, her glossy dark hair swept in a high ponytail that swung halfway down her back. She was full of vitality, and sheer outrageousness.

  ‘Now where have you been? I landed hours ago and have been lonely ever since and now the taxi to take me back to the airport will be here in ten. What’s up with your mobile?’

  Sophy walked back to the bench to find and refill her glass. How was she going to explain this one? Rosanna was not going to be impressed. ‘I’m doing some admin work.’

  Rosanna frowned. ‘You’ve got a job?’

  ‘Only for a few weeks. Their usual administrator’s baby arrived sooner than expected.’

  ‘Baby okay?’

  ‘Baby’s fine.’

  ‘So why couldn’t they get a temp? Why did it have to be you?’ Rosanna rolled her eyes. ‘Who asked you?’

  ‘Cara, the new mother, is a good friend of Victoria’s.’

  ‘Of course she is. Of course you couldn’t say no.’ Rosanna gave a theatrical sigh as she went to the pantry and pulled out a bottle of wine. ‘So where’s the job?’

  ‘You heard of the Whistle Fund?’

  Rosanna wolf-whistled as she unscrewed the cap of the bottle. ‘Alex Carlisle and Lorenzo Hall. Who hasn’t heard of them? Alex got married recently and Lorenzo’s someone you don’t forget. Ever.’

  Well, that was true. His image was burned on Sophy’s brain, every inch of skin, muscle and pure man.

  ‘Every bit as good as he looks, apparently,’ Rosanna drawled.

  ‘You’ve hooked him?’ A hot flash of envy sliced through Sophy.

  ‘No,’ Rosanna said, pausing as she poured the crimson wine. ‘Not that I’d turn him down. But the one time our paths crossed I didn’t even score a second glance.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’ Sophy was able to smile again. ‘Every man gives you at least four glances.’

  ‘Sweetie-pie.’ Rosanna flopped into a chair, giant wine glass in hand. ‘No, I’ve heard he’s impossible to catch. Tangles in the nets now and then but always swims free.’

  Sophy was quite sure he tangled and then ripped free. ‘I think he’s a shark.’

  ‘Do you now?’ Rosanna giggled—half choking on her wine.

  ‘Absolutely,’ Sophy said. ‘I think he’s far too used to seeing any fish he wants and getting the kill.’

  Rosanna held her glass up to the light and with a flick of her wrist let the liquid swirl inside it. ‘At the very least you might score some wine.’

  Sophy shook her head. ‘I don’t know that we’ll be getting on well enough for that.’

  Rosanna tilted her head on the side and appraised Sophy, a sly smile on her lips. ‘You’re interested.’

  ‘No I’m not.’ Sophy lied. And then immediately started to laugh.

  Rosanna laughed too. ‘Of course you are. We all are. But—’ her nose wrinkled ‘—I don’t think he’s your type.’

  ‘No?’ Sophy felt irrationally put out.

  ‘He is a shark,’ Rosanna said. ‘You need a dolphin.’

  ‘Oh, great. Someone with a big nose.’

  ‘And with a habit of rescuing rather than destroying. It’s true.’ Rosanna sat up. ‘You need a good guy, Soph, someone safe and cuddly, not some dangerous type you couldn’t handle.’

  ‘You don’t think I could handle him?’

  ‘I know you couldn’t.’

  ‘So you’ve no advice for me?’

  Rosanna looked up sharply. ‘I’m the last person you should take advice from.’

  How did she figure that? She was the one who had them all eating out of her palm.

  ‘You were wearing that when you saw him?’ Rosanna’s expression clouded.

  ‘What? What’s wrong with it?’ Had she committed some terrible fashion faux pas? She couldn’t think what.

  ‘Nothing. But if he has a Grace Kelly fantasy, then you’re in trouble.’

  Sophy snorted. ‘Now who’s the sweetie-pie?’<
br />
  ‘He’d gobble a kitten like you.’ Rosanna frowned. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Anyway, I’m grumpy, we don’t have time for a pedicure now. I’ve had to sit here all day doing nothing.’

  Kitten? She thought she was a kitten? ‘Poor you.’ Now Sophy had zero sympathy. ‘It’s about time you stopped and did nothing for half a day.’

  Rosanna cupped her hand round her mouth, making a pretend mega phone. ‘Pot calling kettle, come in, kettle.’ She stood. ‘At least I’m busy pushing my career. You’re just busy doing everything for everyone else.’

  ‘You’re going to miss your next flight. Go have a good trip.’ Rosanna was a buyer for one of the major fashion chains. Knowledgeable, chic, damn good at her job and away more nights than she was at home.

  Rosanna picked up the handle of her chic trolley case. ‘I love Wellington.’

  ‘The boys are going to miss you.’

  ‘It’ll be good for them.’ Rosanna bent and flicked an in visible speck of fluff from her black trousers.

  Sophy watched the studied in difference with a smile. ‘Are you ever going to make a decision?’

  Rosanna appeared to think on it for a moment, then smiled shamelessly. ‘I don’t think so, no.’

  Rosanna had been dating two men for the last month. They knew about each other. Hell, they all went clubbing together, the boys’ rivalry half jest, half serious. Rosanna, the black widow, liked to have as many in her web as possible to play with. And once they were caught, they were never freed. She had carcasses all over the globe. Emmet and Jay were her latest victims yet somehow she pulled it off with such charm they didn’t seem to mind—in fact they salivated over her.

  Sophy knew there was a heart of gold underneath the glam. It was just that Rosanna wouldn’t admit to it, certainly wouldn’t let anyone near it. She spent her life fencing, flirting on a superficial—if somewhat bitchy—plane. Sophy knew why; Rosanna’s heart had been broken and she wasn’t letting any man near it again. She was only about having light, harmless, fun and keeping any seriousness at a distance.

  Sophy’s heart had also been broken. Frankly she wanted some of the fun now too—and she knew who with. She walked with Rosanna to the door, waited for the taxi to arrive and tried to absorb some of her friend’s zest for life.

  Rosanna did all the things Sophy was too ‘responsible’ to do: she had crazy flings, she went to far flung destinations, she was impulsive and a risk-taker. She did danger—she’d do dangerous like Lorenzo Hall kind of dangerous.

  But Sophy had always had more than herself to consider. She loved her parents and had never wanted to embarrass them. As she was the judge’s daughter it would have made the perfect salacious storyline—if she’d gone off the rails, been a teen drinker, teen pregnant, or got into drugs. But she’d done none of those things. She’d tried to be the perfect kid—even when she knew she was a disappointment in not following them into the law. She’d even tried to find the perfect boy friend. If she couldn’t live up to the family name she’d marry someone who would. She’d been so naïve—her ex had only wanted her for what he could get out of it—the connection to her family. She supposed it served her right.

  She was the boring, goody two-shoes who’d been embarrassingly naïve. Now she was in the habit of playing safe. Not playing at all. Not taking risks.

  She never discussed her family with anyone at all now. Privacy had been important anyway, discretion a must. People were put off just as much as they were intrigued, as if they thought she’d run to her father if they mentioned anything even slightly shady. It was as if they expected her to be a pillar of morality, never once veering from doing right.

  And in truth she was.

  ‘Is this job full-time?’ Rosanna asked. ‘Initially.’

  ‘You know your problem, Soph?’

  ‘Go on, enlighten me.’

  ‘You’re too sweet. Why don’t you ever say no to them? Why don’t you ever say no to me?’

  ‘How can I?’ Sophy argued. ‘You let me move in.’ She hadn’t wanted to stay with her parents. But hadn’t wanted to live alone either—at least, not all the time.

  Rosanna shrugged. ‘I’m hardly here. It’s a selfish move on my part—you’re a good house-sitter.’

  ‘Yes.’ Sophy laughed, not in the least offended, knowing Rosanna didn’t mean it.

  ‘But when are you going to get those pieces finished?’

  Sophy bit her lip. She’d known Ro would bring it up eventually. ‘I don’t know that I can.’

  ‘You’re doing it, Sophy. This is such a great opportunity.’

  ‘You’ve just told me to learn to say no.’

  ‘Only to the things you don’t really want. This is something you do want, isn’t it? This is something to push for. Put your ambition first for once.’

  ‘I will.’ Sophy groaned, but Rosanna was right of course. ‘When are you back?’

  ‘Later in the week. Another flying visit home and then off again.’

  ‘You don’t get tired of it?’

  ‘No.’

  And perhaps if they saw each other more they’d drive each other nuts. The taxi finally pulled up and Rosanna strutted down to get it, her ponytail swinging, her ultra-high heels tapping and her trolley rattling along the concrete path.

  ‘Don’t say yes to anything else while I’m away,’ she called as she got into the cab. ‘I mean it.’ She stopped and opened the door again to holler, ‘Especially not Lorenzo Hall!’

  ‘Kittens have claws, you know.’

  ‘Not enough to make a mark on a man like him.’

  Laughing, Sophy shut the front door. Rested against it for a moment, listening to the vast silence Rosanna had left behind her. She’d been right. Lorenzo was out of her league. And probably not genuinely interested anyway—he was just amusing himself by making her squirm.

  Rosanna was right about something else too. Sophy needed to finish up her pieces and prepare for the exhibition. It was a fantastic opportunity and she shouldn’t blow it. Inspired, she went into her room and got to work on them—kept working late into the night. Once she got into it the excitement flowed and she decided to make the most of her lunch break—she had no time to waste if she wanted to get enough made.

  She got to work early the next day to get ahead. She opened the window in the office to let the fresh spring air in. Looking down, she saw Lorenzo was out the back. Wide brush in hand, he was covering the graffiti with black paint—to match the rest of the fence. So it bothered him enough at last? Sophy thought it was a bit of a shame. But, unable to resist, she watched. His jeans hung that little bit low on his hips, an old tee was stretched across his broad shoulders. His feet were bare. He had his phone trapped between ear and shoulder and his voice carried across the still yard. As did his laughter.

  She should probably close the window.

  Instead she switched on her computer. She’d concentrate on the work. Not listen to every word winging through the window.

  ‘So what’s the castle like?’ Lorenzo asked.

  Alex had taken Dani to Italy on a belated but extended honeymoon. They were staying in some castle for a few weeks.

  ‘Amazing. As it should be for the price. How’s Cara?’

  ‘Shattered but holding her own, I think.’ He swirled the brush through the paint. ‘She loved the flowers. She said the baby is tiny but she’s doing well.’

  ‘You’ve not been to see her yet?’

  ‘No.’ Lorenzo winced.

  ‘Renz—’

  ‘Not my scene, Alex, you know that.’ Happy families weren’t him. He was concerned for Cara, of course he was, and he’d sent over a ton of presents, asked if there was anything he could do. Of course there wasn’t, she and her husband and their entire extended families had it together. So he didn’t have to go and feel awkward around them.

  ‘What about the Whistle Fund? Did you find someone to help out?’ Alex moved on.

  ‘Yeah,’ Lorenzo sighed. ‘Cara did—a frien
d’s younger sister or something. One of those socialites who likes to be involved.’ Lorenzo jabbed a fence paling with the brush. ‘She’s so damn efficient. Organised. Officious. She looks like a frigid girl scout.’

  Alex laughed. ‘So many adjectives, Renz—she bothering you?’

  ‘No.’ If only he knew.

  Alex laughed even harder—okay, so he knew he was lying. ‘So she’s a babe?’

  Lorenzo slapped some paint on even thicker. Yes, she was a babe. In more ways than one. All big blue eyes and blonde hair that begged to be ruffled. Hot-looking but with an air of innocence that Lorenzo wasn’t at all sure that he should taint. ‘She’s doing the job. That’s all that matters.’

  The job would be done—brilliantly—and he’d find a permanent replacement very soon. Because he had too much else to do to be fixating on her all the time like this.

  He ended the call to Alex, finished up the fence. Picking up the can, he swung round, glanced up to the first floor. The window to her office was open but he couldn’t see anyone sitting at the desk. Kat must have opened it.

  He jogged up to his apartment—scrubbed the paint off in the shower. But he had an itch that just had to be scratched. He had to go have another look, see if he could make her spark again. It was like she’d put some kind of homing device in him, drawing him near. He went down to Reception and stole the mail from Kat’s tray. Then his feet just went to where she was. Irresistible.

  ‘You going out with your boy friend tonight?’ he asked. So lame. So unsubtle.

  She froze where she was bent over a pile of papers.

  ‘You should come to the bar. It’s the opening night.’

  ‘You’re that desperate for customers?’ She looked up, all frost. Touchy this morning.