by Anne Oliver
He did appear a little worse for wear today, she noticed. Eyes bleary, lines etched deeper around his mouth. She sensed there was more he wasn’t saying but she accepted his roundabout excuse for an apology for now, until she could get to the bottom of whatever it was that had disturbed him. Because he’d very neatly avoided her first question. ‘I didn’t sleep much either,’ she confessed.
His smile was slow and shattering. ‘I have something in mind I think you’ll enjoy.’
To her shocked embarrassment she felt her cheeks blooming at his blatant promise of erotic delights. Like a teenager, for heaven’s sakes. To hide it, she busied herself rinsing everyone else’s coffee-stained mugs. ‘I’m listening.’
‘Is next weekend free for you?’ he said close to her ear.
She pressed her lips together at the exciting sensation of her body vibrating in harmony with his voice. Struggled to answer with her usual flirty tone. ‘It could be. If you make it worthwhile.’
‘How about I take you to Heaven?’
A corner of her mouth lifted. ‘You already have.’
‘This’ll be better. Sex and post-coital conversation with food and wine and stunning views. A weekend of heaven at Heaven. We can take our time returning after Sunday brunch. What do you say?’
Irresistible. How could she refuse? ‘I say that sounds like a tempting offer, Mr Hamilton.’
‘Make no mistake, Ms Black, it’s a very tempting offer. Question is, are you going to take me up on it?’
‘I reckon I might...’
‘G—’
‘Think about it,’ she finished, with a smile on the inside. Let him think about that. She stepped sideways to reach for the teapot but she found herself being spun around and pressed up against the kitchen bench by a hard, toned body.
Before she could utter another word, his lips crushed hers. His unique flavour was overlaid with impatience and desire, as if he couldn’t get enough quickly enough and was damned annoyed about it.
To heck with fighting it, she decided, absorbing his hot, dark taste as his hands moved down her back, cupping her buttocks and dragging her closer to that hard ridge of masculine heat.
‘What happened to slow?’ she managed when he finally lifted his mouth to stare down at her.
‘A change is good.’
Then somehow her skirt was ruched halfway up her thighs and her hands sliding like limp spaghetti over his shoulders. His hands were nowhere near as innocent, caressing her breasts outside her virginal white blouse, then rolling the hard nipples between his fingers as he tugged at an ear lobe with his teeth. ‘Good?’
‘Good.’ Whimpering, she arched her back, rubbing her aching breasts against his palms, his rock-hard erection pressing against her belly. ‘This is so bad...’
‘Positively wicked.’ His hands slid down her body, over her thighs, stroking her skin, then inching higher beneath the hem.
She smiled against his stubbled cheek. ‘I like a bit of wicked.’
‘I know.’ He pulled away, staring at her with eyes that, for one fleeting instant, reminded her of a wolf with one foot caught in a trap. ‘You’re a fascinating enigma, Breanna Black.’
‘And that bothers you.’
‘I can handle it,’ he muttered. ‘And you.’
‘I look forward to being handled,’ she said. ‘As long as you’re only referring to the bedroom. You’re one very sexy man, Leo Hamilton, and, to my complete surprise, I find I like you. Shall we leave it at that?’
He fingered a strand of wayward hair at her temple that had escaped the clasp at the back of her head. ‘I’ll pick you up on Friday night. What time do you finish?’
‘I’ll be ready to leave by five. No, make it four-thirty. No sense waiting around—I’m an impatient woman.’
‘So am I.’ He slid a finger across her lips. ‘Impatient, I mean.’
She sucked in a slow breath between her teeth. ‘So, is this a dirty weekend or a romantic getaway?’
‘What do you think?’ He started to walk towards the door.
‘I need to know what clothes to pack.’
He turned back. His gaze was molten silver, stroking over her. ‘An overnight bag is all you’ll need. And your contraceptive pill if you take it.’
Her pulse pounded, a carnival ride out of control. ‘I do.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘Me too.’ It was going to be okay. Just sex. Fun times. Temporary.
‘I promise you a night you won’t forget. Two, in fact.’
He grinned with wicked intent, which had her insides jumping erratically, and waved a hand towards her chest. ‘But you might want to fix your blouse for now.’
Oh, cripes.
By the time she looked up again, he was gone.
NINE
Leo was flat out seeing clients in the north of the island state for the rest of the week. He had to adjust his schedule around losing Friday afternoon in order to drive back to Hobart then on to Heaven. There was no possibility of making up that time over the weekend because he intended spending every waking moment indulging in more fascinating pursuits.
Since he was working in a remote wilderness area west of Launceston, he had no mobile coverage from Wednesday morning onwards. Which was a good thing because it prevented him from picking up the phone late in the evening just to hear Brie’s sensual bedroom voice and indulge in a little pillow talk to get him in the right mood for the weekend.
Not that he hadn’t been in the right mood since he’d seen her on Monday morning at her office. He’d wanted her so badly his body ached. Still did. He’d not been able to focus properly on anything else since.
She was still a distraction he couldn’t afford.
He reminded himself of that fact as he checked his phone messages at two p.m. on Friday. Moments ago he’d arrived back in Launceston and was taking a coffee break on the town’s outskirts before driving on to Hobart.
Then he saw something that dashed his cheery anticipation into the ground. A check-in reminder for this afternoon’s four-thirty p.m. flight to Sydney. Sent yesterday when he’d been out of range.
No freaking way.
His mood plummeted and he stared at the screen, disbelief tracking like tiny ice picks up his spine. Not possible. Sunny’s concert was next Friday. It had to be—he’d booked the flight for the wrong week, that was all. But even as he brought his calendar up on the screen he remembered that next weekend he was due in Singapore.
He heard Sunny’s voice echo in his ear from Monday morning’s conversation. Don’t be late.
And there it was—the ugly truth. Stabbing him in the eyes. Pounding away in his head. He was due in Sydney this evening to watch his baby sister perform at the Opera House. Sunny’s dream gig—and now his waking nightmare.
He’d been so caught up with his own carnal needs and wants, he’d forgotten the person who deserved his support the most. Someone who deserved so much better than a brother who forgot her important day.
He slapped cash on the table and dashed to his car. Shoving it into gear, he all but fish-tailed out of the tiny café’s driveway and headed south to Hobart. The airport was this side of town; he’d have to put his car in long-term parking overnight. If he drove straight there instead of going home to shower and change, he might just make it before the final passenger call.
Wasn’t it ironic? His flight was departing Hobart at the same time he was due to pick up Breanna for their idyllic weekend away.
* * *
Brie squeezed her Friday afternoon clients in between the morning ones, forfeiting her morning tea and lunch break to do so.
She’d dashed out at three-thirty, and as she drove home to change and get ready she hoped all the juggling was worth it.
It would be worth it.
As she hurried inside, she checked her mobile for the first time since midday and saw three missed calls from Leo, made every half-hour since two this afternoon. He’d not left a message so she had no idea what to make of them, but a bad f
eeling snaked through her gut. She was about to call him back when the phone rang. Leo’s number.
‘Hi.’ Her voice sounded too breathless—she was aiming for casual. ‘What’s up?’
‘Breanna.’ She heard a pause, as if he wasn’t sure how to say whatever it was. ‘I apologise for the late notice but I can’t make it this evening. I’m expected at an important function in Sydney and missing it is not an option.’
And here Brie was, thinking that their date was the most important event on his weekend’s calendar. Big mistake, Brie. He didn’t sound apologetic; he sounded terse, as if he couldn’t wait to get off the phone. As if he made a habit of double booking and she rated a poor second after his work appointments. If indeed that was what it was... Remember Elliot? His appointments hadn’t been work-related either.
Of course Brie wasn’t an exception to a man like Leo. They weren’t even in a proper relationship.
‘It’s only for tonight,’ he went on when she didn’t respond. ‘I’ll be back in Hobart tomorrow morning. It depends on flights, I need to change my booking. Thing is, my sis—’
‘I was going to wash my hair anyway,’ she cut in before she could hear his excuse. Her throat felt as if it was closing over—that old feeling she’d never wanted to suffer through again. ‘No, I wasn’t,’ she said. ‘I was going away with you, Leo Hamilton, because you invited me. But something better came up and you changed your mind.’
‘I did not change my mind, Breanna. I messed up my diary and now they’re calling my flight. Listen to me. My s—’
She disconnected, turned her phone off. For a moment she just stood and stared at the black screen as a chill wrapped around her. ‘I don’t want to hear your excuses,’ she whispered through clenched teeth. ‘I don’t want to hurt the way Elliot made me hurt with his lies. The way my parents made me hurt with their secrets. And I know you could hurt me so much more than anyone else ever could.’
* * *
With the exception of her indulgent spa and champagne chill-out sessions, Brie didn’t enjoy being on her own. If she had an evening free and found herself alone, she’d fill it: parties, work, colleagues, friends, distractions—it didn’t matter.
That was the beauty of freedom. Freedom to choose what she did and who she did it with. Not being tied to a regular partner or schedule. Not having to be accountable to anyone but herself.
The only way to live. Right?
But tonight as darkness closed in, she couldn’t focus on freedom or anything else. Leo had cancelled when she’d been looking forward to a weekend of fun and naughty surprises.
She needed something to take her mind off it.
Food, she decided, eyeing the fridge. The more calories and unhealthier, the better. She dug out two huge scoops of mango ripple ice cream, unwrapped the chocolate-coated almonds left over from last weekend’s party and poked them in, then drizzled the lot with raspberry syrup.
She tucked in to the cold delight but Leo was still in her head. Something about the man tugged at her heart, and it terrified her. She wanted to believe he was a decent guy, an honest one. Like his concern for her safety when he’d had the fire alarm installed. For the umpteenth time tonight she wondered if she should have given him a chance to explain before he hopped on that plane to Sydney. To home.
Maybe the reason he lived with his sister was because she couldn’t afford to live elsewhere, was jobless and had begged him to take her in? Brie never got involved in family issues with any guys she dated.
When the florist delivery service turned up on her security monitor with roses—four dozen yellow and a single black one with no card attached—her heart didn’t stall or stop or turn cartwheels. It cramped. She redirected the driver to the local hospice. Grand gestures like that had always left her cold. It was too easy to order expensive flowers and forget the reason within moments. In her experience, flowers equalled a guilty conscience.
It was just the kind of thing her parents used to do. They’d toss a wad of cash at her and tell her to go spend it in the shopping mall, when all she wanted was for them to look her way. Nor had money bought friendships as a way out of her loneliness. She’d had to work hard for those.
Already overly full on ice cream, Brie poured herself a large glass of merlot. Setting it on the coffee table in front of the white leather lounge overlooking a forest of indoor plants, she put on a classical CD and found her knitting bag. She pulled out her home-spun alpaca yarn and in between mouthfuls of the ruby liquid she continued with what she called her stress scarf.
Leo’s roses and the hospice threw up memories she’d never be able to forget. In his final hours at that hospice her father had revealed she had a half-brother.
The truth had changed her life. Clarified so much. Her whole life she’d been invisible to her parents and when her mother had been killed in a car accident nine years ago, Brie realised she’d never really known her.
Why couldn’t they have just been honest?
All those missing years not knowing Jett hurt the most of all. She knitted faster, needles clacking rhythmically like a train gathering speed.
Her parents’ marriage had taught her what not to do so she’d made sure to end a relationship before she reached anything that might lead to deepening feelings. Until she’d met Elliot and made an exception—and what a disaster that had turned out to be. Which was why she’d be telling Leo it was over—because she was teetering on that dangerous edge again.
Falling for him wasn’t an option. She loved her freedom, her lifestyle. She’d die of boredom if she was to commit herself to one man. Or so she told herself.
Totally out of sorts, she picked up her phone, tapped Samantha’s number. When Sam answered, Brie didn’t bother with preliminaries. ‘What are you doing tonight?’ then, ‘Can I sleep over at your place? And you’ll need to pick me up because I’m already over the limit.’
* * *
‘You really care about this guy,’ Sam said, over her margarita cocktail an hour later.
They’d found an out-of-the-way table in a chic bar with a view over Sullivans Cove—sheer luck for a normally busy ten o’clock on a Friday night.
‘No. Yes. I don’t want to. You know me—terminal party girl, no emotional entanglements. I’m not going to see him again.’
‘Bit hard since you’re his landlady and he’s your next-door neighbour.’
‘He’s going to rent out his place when it’s finished. All I’ll see of him are his nice regular deposits into my bank account for the next few weeks or months, which will go to Pink Snowflake. So yay.’
Leaning on her elbows, Brie sucked a weak gin and tonic through her straw and stared at the waterfront and its light-rippling reflections. ‘He cancelled our hot weekend—which I never asked for in the first place, by the way—for some unmissable function in Sydney.’
‘Did he explain what it was?’
‘I hung up on him before he could.’
‘Brie. You have to stop doing that.’
‘I can’t deal with excuses and lies and rejection.’
‘So you hung up and now you don’t know if it was any of those or not.’
Brie slid a finger over the moisture on her glass. ‘He’s not into parties. See? He’s just not my type.’
‘Actually, I don’t. He ticks all your boxes: looks, intelligence, charisma. So what if he doesn’t like parties?’
‘He prefers parties for two,’ she murmured, then glanced sideways at Sam who was watching her with a smirk.
‘There you are—he is your type.’
Brie looked back at the view. ‘He sent roses.’
Sam slapped a hand on the table. ‘The nerve of the man.’
‘Flowers imply guilt.’
‘Or an apology.’
‘Or an easy out—call a florist, place an order and two minutes later the conscience is eased and the lucky recipient’s forgotten.’ Brie twisted in her chair to implore, ‘Can we do lunch tomorrow? Just you and me. We can go to
Salamanca first, I know you love the markets.’
‘I’ve never seen you go to so much trouble not to see a guy who’s obviously as interested in you as you are in him. And to be perfectly frank, I don’t think you’re being fair. At least give the guy a chance to explain.’
Brie shook her head. But Sam was right. Probably. ‘I’m afraid of what I’ll do if I do.’
Sam reached over and squeezed her hand. ‘Okay. We’ll do brunch and the markets, but the moment he contacts you and turns up—because you will tell him where we are, and he will turn up—you two are on your own.’
* * *
Sydney’s fog was still hanging around but the curtain was beginning to lighten, the runway almost visible now. In the airport lounge, Leo shuffled his newspaper and checked the departure board. His flight was still delayed by at least an hour. He sent another text advising Breanna since her phone was still switched off. He was learning that it was Breanna’s modus operandi. She was going to have to change because he didn’t like it. Further, he wasn’t going to put up with it.
She’d not given him a chance to explain and that was unacceptable. What the hell did she want from him? He’d had a floral arrangement delivered; he’d never known a woman who couldn’t be persuaded with flowers. And very expensive they’d been too. But she’d remained stubbornly out of contact.
Breanna was untidy, confrontational and too out there for his taste. She was hard work. Why couldn’t he forget her and move on since that was what she seemed to want? What made her so special that he couldn’t wait to see her again? Or maybe that was what it was—those differences, those points of disagreement that challenged him.
And just to complicate things the other woman in his life was also intruding on his thoughts.
Before he’d left for the airport this morning, Leo had stopped by Darling Harbour at Sunny’s invitation to have breakfast with her and the rest of Tasmania’s Hope Strings ensemble who were also in Sydney to see last night’s Opera House performance.
He’d been glad because he’d wanted an opportunity to meet the people his sister would be working with. Ensure she was accepted and happy. And from everything he’d observed, she looked radiant with a glow to her cheeks he’d never seen. She’d found her niche, so it was all good. Fantastic.
