by Anne Oliver
Her nightly cleansing ritual completed, she applied her own pre-mixed moisturiser then climbed into bed. She stared at the ceiling, wide awake, body still buzzing despite the fatigue. Her mind refused to shut down. Leo was no different from any other male in that he liked to look at the female form. Boys had started looking at her when she’d rivalled them in height during her fifteenth year and grown a pretty decent pair of boobs.
Which had hurt at the time because, in their twisted little adolescent minds, boys automatically thought she slept around. An easy lay, she’d heard Billy Swanson snigger before she’d decked him with her backpack. She still hated that men could enjoy a fling and were considered playboys or studs whereas women who enjoyed the same were gossiped about in less than flattering terms, but nowadays she didn’t let it get to her.
And nowadays mature men saw her as more than boobs and legs—mostly. And if they didn’t...did it matter? It wasn’t as if it was long term. And she enjoyed being in the company of a nice-looking man. She enjoyed being swept off her feet and wined and dined and danced. Most of all she enjoyed how they made her feel at the end of the night.
She knew without any doubt at all that Leo could make her feel really, really good. But unlike other men she’d enjoyed spending time with, even hours after he’d gone, Leo’s potent energy lingered in her room and she dragged the covers up over her face as if to shield herself against its force and gritted her teeth.
Men. They filled a basic human need but, like parties and new experiences, they were to be enjoyed and appreciated before moving on to the next. She was careful to choose a partner on the same wavelength and with the same expectations and moral code as herself. Cheating was out. She never lied because she knew bitterly how it felt to be lied to. She expected—no, she demanded—honesty in return.
Unstructured, temporary relationships were her thing. Since Elliot. Eight years ago she’d been so dazzled by the rich young executive she’d seen nothing but the stars he hung in the sky exclusively for her pleasure. When he’d started sending floral apologies for missed dates, she’d made exceptions for him, and excuses. Until the stars had faded and she’d seen him clearly for the lying, cheating rat he was.
Leo’s sudden arrival in her room had both surprised and excited her, transporting her to another place with his unexpected but fun spontaneity and slow-burning kiss.
Until it had ended in disaster less than fifteen minutes later. How did he get away with his appalling lack of social skills? Yeah, looks and sex appeal—they worked every time. No, not every time and not with her. He had some major grovelling to do before she’d let him anywhere near her person again.
But she smiled into the darkness remembering his reaction on the stairs. Pure molten lust and powerless to act on it. Because, in that situation, Brie had held the power. For her, that power had been the only thing that had saved the moment. She fell asleep at last with the smile still on her lips.
* * *
While her raspberry mint tea steeped, Brie plodded outside with a carton of cans and bottles destined for recycling. She winced at the glare—nine a.m. on a Sunday morning was unspeakably early to be up after an all-nighter. But preferable to being assaulted with dreams of a man she didn’t want to think about and whether he tasted as good in the morning as he had last night.
She emptied her recycling into the bin with a loud clanking of glass and metal.
‘Good morning.’
The familiar voice resonated crisply in the chilly air. She swivelled to see the man himself watching her from the gap in the fence a few metres away. How dared he look so refreshed? So together? So attractive? Unlike the way she knew she looked without a scrap of make-up and less than three hours’ sleep. ‘We aren’t meeting until this afternoon,’ she said, turning her back to him. She gathered bottles from a patio table, tossed them in the bin.
‘I was outside and heard you busy there. We could meet this morning if you prefer to get it out of the way.’
To avoid looking at him she wiped the table top with a rag and wished he’d go away so he wouldn’t see her. ‘This morning doesn’t suit.’
He paused, obviously unused to people not falling in with his plans. ‘Okay. I’ve drawn up a schedule. Shouldn’t take long. We can grab a coffee in town somewhere and work it out. Say one o’clock? I’m on the three-fifteen flight out.’
She rose, not avoiding his gaze now but looking him straight in those silvery eyes. ‘I don’t drink coffee. Work it out?’ She said each word as if she were talking to a dim-witted child—which wasn’t much of a stretch, considering last night’s behaviour. ‘Work what out, exactly?’
Genuine surprise crossed his expression. ‘The details of the agreement you persuaded me was a win-win for both of us. Or have you forgotten already?’
‘Ah. That agreement.’ Temper seethed hot through her veins but she kept her cool. ‘I thought you might be going to work on your apology for walking out last night without waiting for me to tell you that I was detained by a guest who’d been taken ill.’ Brie waited a beat for that piece of information to sink in. ‘This might be hard for a guy like you to comprehend but she took priority over anything you and I might have had going.’
At least he had enough smarts to look uncomfortable. ‘Why didn’t you say so last night?’
Incredible. ‘You’re making it my fault?’
He frowned. ‘It’s not about who’s right or—’
She slammed the lid of the bin shut. ‘Of course it’s not.’ A man like Leo was never wrong. ‘Did you give me a chance to speak last night?’
A muscle popped in his jaw. ‘Is she all right?’
‘A migraine—she gets them sometimes. She’ll be okay.’
‘When you didn’t come back I assumed—’
‘Never assume, Leo.’
‘Th— What’s burning?’ His voice sharpened, nostrils flaring, his head whipped towards her house. He didn’t wait for a reply, pushing through the gap in the fence and hurtling towards the atrium.
In that instant Brie smelled it too and remembered. ‘Omigod.’ She heard Leo’s footsteps pounding behind her as she sprinted up the path and into the kitchen.
They arrived in the doorway together. On the stovetop flames licked the inside of her frying pan and acrid smoke billowed towards the ceiling. She froze for an instant, the terrifying crackling sound filling her ears as she tried to remember how to put out a grease fire.
* * *
In that same instant Leo’s heart stopped and his mind spun back twelve years. Only for an instant but he saw it all, every last detail while he switched off the gas, grabbed Breanna’s tea towels and shoved them under the tap. Dragging Sunny from their burning home, the fallen beam trapping her leg as his mother screamed for help from inside the inferno. Impossibly far away.
He relived it in horrifying and vivid Technicolor as he wrung the cloths out then laid them carefully over the pan. Hands restraining him as he tried to go back inside for Mum, her screams lost in the commotion of falling debris and the wail of sirens.
More smoke issued forth as the damp cloths snuffed the flames. The instinctive scream rising up his throat almost overwhelmed him, then he looked at Breanna, staring wide-eyed with shock at the blackened stove top. His first reaction—was this his fault for distracting her away from the kitchen? No. She’d broken a cardinal rule by turning on a frying pan and walking away. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked her.
‘I will be. In a moment. Thank you.’
His nerves shattered, Leo scanned the ceiling, fear of what might have happened masked by anger. ‘Where the hell is your smoke detector and why the hell wasn’t it working?’
‘There isn’t one.’
‘No smoke alarm.’ He pressed his stinging eyes with the heels of his hands and ordered himself to simmer down. The muscles in his legs vibrated; his anger teetered on a dangerous edge. ‘You’re telling me there are no smoke alarms in this house?’
‘Afraid not. I’ve been meaning
to get around to it but—’
‘You’ve been meaning to get around to it.’ He lifted his gaze to hers, unable to believe what he was hearing. ‘I don’t suppose there’s a fire extinguisher either?’ When she shook her head he threw up his hands in frustration and shouted, ‘So, what, you don’t value your own life? Can’t be bothered to keep yourself safe?’
‘It’s okay, the fire’s out,’ she said, waving an almost casual hand. ‘You’re overreacting to this whole thing. Of course I—’
‘You have no freaking idea, do you? Not a bloody clue. Have you seen what burns can do to the human body?’
‘N—’
‘Obviously not.’ Two strides, he gripped her upper arms. ‘Woman, I could shake the living daylights out of you.’
She nodded like a puppet on a string. ‘Okay, point taken. Can you let me go?’
What in hell was he doing? He released her so fast she almost stumbled back.
Blinking rapidly, she nodded again, glanced towards his scarred arm. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve...you’ve...’
‘No.’ He stepped back. He loathed the fact that Breanna had witnessed his runaway outburst, and worse, that she’d been physically subjected to it. Emotional displays indicated a lack of control and, to his mind, constituted a weakness.
Leo Hamilton did not do emotion. He did not lose control. Forcing his gaze back to hers, he blew out a slow breath to steady himself. ‘You sure you’re okay?’
‘I’m okay.’
Did he detect a bit of a wobble in her voice? For her own safety, he hoped so. ‘Look, if I—’
‘I got the message—smoke alarms are on top of my list.’
He wondered just how sincere that intention was. Easy to forget now that the emergency was over. Easy to forget if you’d never had a personal tragedy with fire. ‘A change of plans.’ He pulled out his phone, scrolled to her name. ‘Tell me your email address and I’ll send you the schedule I’ve drawn up. Let me know if there are any points you want to clarify. If not I’ll see you next Saturday.’
She recited her address then added, ‘No going out for coffee, then?’
Biting back a four-letter word, he shook his head. ‘You don’t drink coffee. Remember?’ He slid his phone back into his pocket.
‘You know what I mean. And I’m flexible—I can make an exception. For you.’
‘Some other time.’ He was still dealing with the stresses of the past few moments and the haunting memories they conjured up—he didn’t want to deal with their attraction and Breanna’s disturbing lack of concern at the same time.
A few seconds longer and it could have gone the other way. Chills chased down his spine and he knew he couldn’t simply let it go. He strode to the door, let himself out, relieved she didn’t try to follow.
* * *
Brie’s legs shook so badly she slumped onto the nearest stool and closed her eyes. Her thoughts were on spin cycle and a swarm of bees buzzed in her ears. Now that Leo had gone she gave in to the shock of nearly setting her house on fire. Even worse; he’d seen it all—and saved the day.
Reaching for her teapot, she poured a mug with trembling fingers, barely managing to bring it to her mouth without sloshing it over the rim.
She’d like to think she’d have reacted with Leo’s speed and clarity. His scarred forearm—he’d had personal experience. Which was none of her business unless he chose to share it. Which he hadn’t.
Forty-five minutes later she was scrubbing her grungy stove, still counting herself lucky, when she heard footsteps on the path. She heard a knock as Leo called her name and the sound of the screen door opening and closing.
He appeared in the doorway as she wiped her hands on a clean tea towel. She noticed how his frame seemed to block out most of the light and her heart pitter-pattered faster for the second time in an hour and for an entirely different reason. ‘Did you forget something?’
‘No. You did.’
Then she saw he carried a fire blanket still in its pack and an extinguisher under one arm.
‘Is that to put out the sparks?’ She knew it was a delayed shock reaction but she had the crazily inappropriate desire to laugh. ‘You’re hot, but not that h...’ She trailed off beneath his steel gaze.
‘Don’t push me, Breanna. I’m not in the mood.’
She nodded, pressed her lips together briefly then said, ‘Sorry. And thanks. Thanks heaps. I was trying to lighten the moment. Guess not, hey.’
Ignoring her response, he set his purchases on the table, scanned the kitchen walls. ‘You got a couple of hooks? I can hang the blanket for you.’
‘I can manage a couple of hooks. Really,’ she said when he looked sceptical. ‘I’ll do it today, I promise. And thanks again, I mean it. How much do I owe you?’
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘But—’
‘Buy me a drink some time.’
She might have taken him up on it, but he was already walking to the door.
In ten seconds flat he was gone. Back to Melbourne.
She wasn’t disappointed, she told herself, unpacking the blanket. All work and no play wasn’t her type. Busy business-focused men weren’t her type. They’d drive each other mad; she had no doubts about that at all.
Still... She hugged the blanket to her chest, remembering that kiss last night. Wouldn’t it be fun discovering if she was right?
She should have found him those damn hooks.
* * *
On Wednesday evening Brie noticed a light on next door as she pulled up in her driveway around six-thirty. Apprehensive, she squinted through the night-darkened foliage for a better view. It was way past business hours and Leo was still in Melbourne. At least, she presumed he was, and she felt a surprised little flutter at the possibility that he’d come back earlier than expected.
She was about to check whether his car was under the car port when a guy in overalls ambled up her drive. He raised a hand. ‘Ms Black? Mr Hamilton told me to come.’ He dug in his overall pocket, pulled out a piece of paper. ‘Name’s Trent Middleton and I’m installing a smoke alarm for you this evening.’
Brie frowned at the work order. ‘I didn’t order a smoke alarm.’
‘It’s all paid for, just needs installation. Mr Hamilton told me to wait till you came home.’
Had she missed a text or something? ‘My goodness, how long have you been waiting?’ She could have been gone for hours. What if she’d gone out for drinks or a movie? Had Leo even considered that?
Trent shrugged. ‘Since four. He paid me to wait.’ He grinned. Obviously being paid to do nothing suited him well.
Brie could hardly send him away now. ‘You’d better come in, then.’
She didn’t like that Leo had taken it on himself to install an alarm. Nor did she want to be beholden to him for the cost. Breanna Black paid her own way, thanks very much.
Leo was one of those men who needed to have a handle on every situation and took it as a personal failure if he didn’t.
She didn’t want him having a say in her personal circumstances, or her life if it came to that. But she couldn’t pretend she didn’t feel a warm fuzzy that he was concerned enough to do this for her.
So later that night when she climbed into bed, she called his mobile.
‘Good evening, Breanna,’ he answered over the distant sound of a television. There was an unexpected hint of relaxed in his usually laconic tone. ‘I was expecting your call.’
Hearing his dark velvet voice close to her ear sent a rush of heat through her body. She tried not to imagine him lying next to her and saying much more interesting things into her ear and said, ‘So you know I’m a well-mannered person who always says thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘You should also know I don’t accept charity.’
‘Wasn’t charity, Breanna. A fire alarm’s mandatory for residential rentals. As a property owner, you—’
‘Enough said.’ She waved a hand in empty space. ‘I’ll be
reimbursing you for the cost if you’ll send me the invoice. I’m making it clear right now, I pay my own way.’
There was a pause. ‘So you’d be the type of woman who likes to lead on the dance floor.’
‘For your info, when I’m on it, I own the dance floor,’ she informed him. ‘And you’d be the type of man who likes a woman to lie back in bed and let you do all the work.’ She switched off her night light, stretched out on her crisp cotton sheets and indulged in the tempting image.
‘We seem to have shifted from dance floor to bedroom in rapid succession,’ he said, sounding amused. ‘You want to test that theory of yours, Breanna?’
‘I’m a direct kind of woman, so I might. But we were talking about fire alarms and the paying of them. Business is business and, as your landlady, I get to reimburse you.’
‘We’ll toss for it, then. Winner pays for the alarm. You call, I toss.’
‘No deal.’ She laughed. ‘You think I’m that gullible?’
‘I’ll text you a photo of the result.’
‘R-i-i-ght.’
‘Okay. Something else.’ The sound of the TV faded as if he was moving to another location. ‘I’m home, are you?’
‘Yes. What something else?’
For some reason she imagined him settled in a large wingback chair in front of a roaring fire with a brandy. Her pulse stepping up, her mind already a million miles ahead. She could do a lot with that big chair and brandy scenario...
‘Three statements about yourself. One’s a lie. I guess which one, then it’s your turn.’
Could be interesting. ‘Okay.’
‘First to get three wrong...’
But Brie didn’t hear the rest because her focus had shifted to the female voice that suddenly piped up in the background. She couldn’t make out the words but it hardly mattered: He was chatting up one woman on the phone while entertaining another in his home. No wonder he’d moved to another room to talk. Sucked in, Brie.
She sat bolt upright. ‘One, I’m twenty-six. Two, I’ve circumnavigated the earth in my bi-plane. Three, I’m not interested—and I’ll give you a hint: that’s not the lie.’ She stabbed a finger in the air. ‘I don’t play those kinds of games.’ Pressing the disconnect button, she glared at the dim light coming from the window, furious with him, furious with herself for being so easily manipulated. Again. Hadn’t Elliot taught her anything?
