The Party Dare (Mills & Boon Modern Tempted)

by Anne Oliver

  But he’d noticed one guy paying particular attention to her. Gregor Goldsworthy had spiked hair with a greenish hue about it, a piercing in his left eyebrow, a tattoo on the inside of his wrist—and who knew where else since the rest of his upper body was covered in some sort of long sheepskin coat that looked as if it had been resurrected from the sixties.

  He was fine with that. Live and let live. The respected cello player obviously scrubbed up okay when a formal occasion demanded it. And Sunny was an attractive, outgoing and talented blonde; of course men were going to notice her.

  But what Leo couldn’t get past was the fact that Sunny had been paying this Gregor guy the same rapt attention. The knowledge stirred uncomfortably inside him like the curdled airport coffee he’d just disposed of.

  Sunny hadn’t mentioned Gregor—and why would she? She’d tell Leo to butt out of her private life. And he did. Mostly. Ditching his newspaper, he stalked to the windows where the sun was struggling through the rapidly dissipating fog. Ground crews were starting to move, the disembodied airport voice was announcing the first flights.

  Time to go and have it out with Breanna.

  * * *

  Sam grabbed Brie’s phone off the table where they were having brunch, checked it with a cluck of her tongue. ‘You can only receive when it’s switched on.’

  ‘I’ve been checking,’ Brie told her around a morsel of toast, since she was barely hungry. ‘He texted his flight’s due in at one-thirty. Fog delay. I switched it off so I don’t have to talk to him.’

  ‘Why’d you do that?’ she asked, still playing with Brie’s phone. She snapped a selfie of the two of them. ‘You’re the most confident woman I know when it comes to talking with men.’

  ‘Not this time.’

  She gulped her English breakfast tea. Why was it different with him? Brie had never felt so spun out after having one-off sex. Since those amazing moments with Leo she felt as if she’d been ripped open and all her insecurities laid bare. Had anything changed between them in the meantime? If so, how would she deal with it?

  She didn’t know yet because she hadn’t let him explain.

  Of course, if he had changed his mind she’d deal with it. If he’d lied and she found out, she’d tell him where to go. But deep down, whatever the reason, she’d die a little. A lot.

  Because no matter how hard she tried to deny it, it mattered with him. Nerves were so bunched up in her throat that she could barely talk. ‘I need some air,’ she muttered. ‘This place is stifling.’

  ‘Let’s stroll down to the markets,’ Sam said, handing her back her phone. ‘He’ll ring when he arrives and you can tell him to meet us there. That way it won’t look like you’ve been sitting around waiting for him to show up.’

  ‘Which I haven’t been.’ Brie made a determined effort to improve her mood for Sam’s sake. ‘I’m just enjoying a lazy morning out with a girlfriend.’

  The day was chilly and grey but Saturday’s regular tree-lined Salamanca Market in Hobart was a sensory hive of activity. The aromas of pancakes and burgers filled the air. Umbrellas sheltering stalls displaying everything from carpets and cloth to bird feeders and lampshades set against the backdrop of historic Georgian warehouses.

  When her phone jingled in her pocket just after two o’clock, Brie startled. She yanked it out, checked caller ID, and her pulse went into overdrive. ‘Leo.’

  ‘How do you like your crêpes?’ His voice was caramel-smooth. ‘Lemon and sugar or strawberry jam?’

  She spun around, saw him at the food tent a few stalls away. He had his back to her but he stood out; an unmissable head above the rest. To add to her agitation, her whole body readied itself at the sight, as if it were programmed to respond exclusively to him. ‘How did you know I’d be here?’ She looked at Sam as she spoke.

  ‘Forgotten your text already?’

  ‘Traitor,’ she whispered to Sam and turned away to watch a busker playing French songs on his piano accordion.

  ‘What was that?’ Leo’s voice.

  ‘I was speaking to Samantha. She was the one who texted you. I’ll have the jam, please. And stay where you are. I’ll come to you.’ She disconnected with a scowl. ‘Bet all the women say that to him. As for you, my friend, I’ll haul you over the coals later.’ But she let Sam give her a quick hug before she made her way through the crowd.

  She thought she was ready—calm and composed—when she tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around, his hands filled with crêpes, shiny dark hair riffling in the breeze.

  And then she was leaning over to kiss his cheek, inhaling his warm scent before she could think about it.

  Before she remembered yesterday.

  ‘Hi.’ She pulled back, stared into pewter eyes that reflected the sombre morning sky. ‘I shouldn’t have hung up on you last night.’

  ‘I’ve noticed you do that a lot.’

  She heard the disappointment in his tone. ‘Yes. I know, and I’m sorry.’

  ‘Is it a bad habit of yours or is it just me?’

  ‘It’s not you.’ She clenched her hands, rubbed them together, not from cold but with nerves. ‘Are you going to accept my apology or not?’

  ‘I will. This time.’

  His gaze grew so intense she had to force herself not to flinch and look away. ‘I know I didn’t listen yesterday but I do want to know why you cancelled on me.’

  His expression remained inscrutable, as if he was deciding whether to tell her or not. Finally he nodded. ‘Okay.’ He looked about them. ‘Let’s find somewhere quieter.’

  ‘That way.’ She gestured away from the crowds to the top of Salamanca Place where there were seats beneath a canopy of trees.

  ‘I got the roses,’ she said, to fill the silence between them as they walked. ‘Pretty.’

  ‘Glad you think so.’

  ‘Expensive.’

  ‘Not a worry.’

  ‘What was the black one symbolic of?’

  ‘Me? Your light to my shadow? Wh—’

  ‘I sent them to a hospice.’

  His steps slowed a little. ‘You sent them to a hospice.’

  ‘I know some of the patients there and know they’d appreciate them far more than me.’

  ‘Okay. You don’t like flowers—got it.’ He didn’t say more as he led her to a seat on a grassy spot beneath some trees, handed her the plate with the jam-laced crêpe, kept the lemon and sugar one for himself.

  ‘I love flowers. Just not for apologies.’ Her stomach was churning but she unpeeled the plastic wrap and picked off a corner of her pancake. ‘So?’ she prompted.

  ‘As I tried to explain before you cut me off, I messed up my diary. Rather, I didn’t add you to my diary because, frankly, I didn’t need to. I couldn’t think of anything—or anyone—else. Which got me into all sorts of—’

  ‘You promised me a night I wouldn’t forget. You were right—I won’t forget.’

  ‘Breanna...’

  She held up her hand, looked away to the sandstone buildings around Sullivans Cove so she wouldn’t read what she might in his gaze. ‘I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to know.’ She didn’t want to hear. Was too scared to hear. ‘I’m sure you had a perfectly valid reason, but this thing between us, it’s not going to work, best not to go any further.’ She rewrapped her virtually untouched crêpe in plastic and struggled against nausea. And fear. Oh, God, the fear. ‘I’m not going to Heaven with you, Leo.’

  His sudden iron-like grip on her upper arm through her thick jacket had her jolting and swivelling her head his way. Her paper plate slipped off her lap and onto the grass.

  ‘Listen to me, Breanna.’ His eyes were stormy, his mouth a grim slash, the powerful image of this man on the edge of his steely control setting Brie’s heart pounding with something between exhilaration and anger.

  ‘Take your hand off me,’ she warned through clenched teeth.

  But instead of letting her go, his fingers tightened. ‘Listen to me first. Weeks ago I
made a commitment to watch my little sister perform at the Opera House. Can you put yourself in my place a moment and imagine how I felt when I realised I’d been so preoccupied, so infatuated, so obsessed with you, Breanna Black, that I’d forgotten I was supposed to turn up and show my support on one of the biggest nights of her life? Leo Hamilton, the only family Sunny has—the only family I have.’

  Brie exhaled slowly, searching his eyes, falling into that confused gaze. Falling for him a little more with every passing second that he punished himself as he loosened his grip on her arm, then let her go altogether with a muttering of disgust obviously aimed at himself.

  ‘You went to watch your sister. And you nearly forgot because you were thinking about me.’ The wonder of it stole through her heart like gold. ‘I should’ve let you explain.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You didn’t forget in the end and that’s all that matters,’ she said, watching the tension in his shoulders ease a little. ‘You were there for her. What was Sunny doing at the Opera House?’

  ‘She’s a violinist.’

  ‘Talented. You must be a proud brother.’

  ‘Yes. And you hung up on me because...?’

  ‘Because I didn’t want to hear your lies. What I expected would be lies.’

  ‘Your opinion of me is that low?’ He shook his head.

  ‘No. I...’

  ‘You have trust issues. What did he do?’

  She nodded, glad he’d guessed because it made it easier to tell him. ‘A few years ago I was involved with a guy. Foolishly blinded by his dazzling attention. Until I learned that Elliot sent flowers whenever he cancelled his dates with me to fool around with other women.’

  ‘Despite the popular rumour, not all men are bastards, Breanna.’ He scowled, his expression dark. ‘I’m sorry I brought back bad memories for you.’

  ‘Don’t be, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know. Bloody lies.’

  ‘You mentioned once that you didn’t know about your brother’s existence until recently. What was that about?’

  ‘My dad fathered Jett with another woman a few months after he married my mum. He confessed to me on his deathbed.’

  ‘That’s tough.’

  ‘That’s the poisonous nature of secrets and lies.’

  He looked away towards the docks, then said, ‘While we’re sort of on the subject, I don’t think I mentioned Sunny’s going to be your new neighbour.’

  ‘No, you sort of didn’t. When did you plan on sort of telling me?’

  ‘I’m telling you now. The house is for her—she has a new job with Hope Strings starting soon.’

  ‘Sunny’s with Hope Strings? That’s great.’ But living next door, not so much. Could be awkward. ‘I look forward to meeting her.’

  ‘I think you two will get along well. You’re like her in some respects.’ He turned, his gaze brightening as if he’d had a light-bulb moment. ‘She’s impulsive and loves spontaneity. Like you. Do you have a valid passport?’

  Huh? ‘Yes, why?’

  ‘Ever been to Singapore?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘I’m there next weekend on business. Forget Heaven. Come with me to the Gardens by the Bay.’

  TEN

  ‘I can’t just fly off to Singapore with you.’ But the very idea was already whisking her off on a magic carpet of thrilling anticipation. ‘I have clients, appointments. People depending on me.’

  ‘Business-class flight, Marina Bay Sands hotel,’ he told her. As if that would make a difference.

  She’d spent too much of her life struggling for acceptance and building a good professional reputation to risk it by abandoning her clients when they needed her, particularly those suffering through cancer treatments, just to run off with a man.

  But not just any man. This was Leo Hamilton, and he was flying her overseas for the weekend, business class, and staying in that famous hotel she’d only ever dreamed about with its infinity pool fifty-seven storeys high and...and...

  The very spontaneity of the idea appealed to her on so many levels.

  A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the ultimate dirty weekend. Or maybe it was a romantic getaway this time. Brie’s mind whirled; her heart did a little tap dance inside her chest. ‘I...’

  ‘If you can juggle a few appointments on Friday, we’ll leave in the afternoon, and return early Monday morning. You’ll be back at Eve’s before morning tea break. Can that work? I—’

  ‘Your proposal’s accepted.’

  Leo fought back a grin, relieved his powers of persuasion, at least, were still in good working order. ‘That was quick.’ And the best answer he’d heard all morning.

  He gestured to a nearby bin and they headed towards it. He was still trying to figure out how he’d asked her to accompany him as they walked across the grass. He’d always kept his private and business lives separate.

  What was it about Breanna that had him changing lifelong habits? One look into her dark eyes and he knew. He couldn’t wait to get her naked and he was prepared to do whatever it took to spend some quality uninterrupted time with her. Even if it meant taking her on a business trip. And if personal and business got a little tangled up, what the hell was wrong with that?

  Things could end up getting a little knotted.

  He refused to examine that thought further. He’d made his decision. Chucking their half-eaten pancakes in the bin, he rocked back on his heels, tossed the end of his scarf over his shoulder. ‘Come home with me.’

  ‘Home? As in West Wind?’

  ‘Your place. My place. Who cares where?’

  ‘Not West Wind. Because when it’s over with us...’ The air was calm but she tightened her arms around herself as if a cold gust had blown through her.

  Yeah. He understood. And the knowledge, too, left him with a lead-ball sensation behind his breastbone, which was best dismissed. But he did know what they both wanted right now. And West Wind was never going to be an option for them. ‘Where’s the nearest hotel?’

  ‘Hey.’ Laughing, she tapped his chest. ‘You can be spontaneous.’ Grabbing his hand, she pulled him along. ‘This way. And it happens to be a five star.’

  ‘As long as it has a bed.’

  ‘Who needs a bed?’ She laughed again. He could get used to that sound.

  The desk manager didn’t bat an eyelid when they arrived at the lobby desk breathless and without luggage and requested a room. But Leo saw a glimmer in the man’s eyes as he handed him their room key.

  Leo wanted to tell the man he’d never done this in his life, that it wasn’t what it looked like. That he wasn’t spending a quick couple of hours heating up the sheets with some stranger he’d just met; that she wasn’t a hooker. But Breanna was already dragging him towards the elevator bank.

  The moment she pressed the button, the elevator doors opened and she grinned at Leo, anticipation sparkling in her eyes. No one else was waiting and they stepped in.

  ‘Hang o—’ The rest of his words were cut off when she yanked him close, pressed her mouth to his before the lift doors had finished closing.

  She tasted of spicy heat and wild honey and he struggled to remain upright when she pushed up against him, knocking them both against the back wall.

  He spread his feet for balance and placed his hands on her arms to steady them both. Which put him at a disadvantage when she reached down between them, found him rock hard and ready for action. ‘Brie.’ He swallowed as heat spurted into his lower belly. ‘Slow down!’

  It was no laughing matter but Breanna’s eyes lit with humour as she cupped her hands around him. Moulded, stroked, squeezed. ‘One speed, Leo, and it ain’t slow.’

  ‘But we’re in a public lift.’

  ‘You think like a girl,’ she told him, an echo of his words not long ago. ‘You’re way too conservative, Mr Hamilton. Way too uptight and...’

  She squeezed him again and smiled against his lips, sending more sparks shooting straight to his groin. Wondering v
aguely if he might spontaneously combust, he tightened his fingers on her arms, hauled her closer, heard her muffled moan of approval as he devoured her mouth once more.

  He couldn’t recall whether either of them had pressed the button for their floor. He hoped one of them had because this could end badly for them. Then the lift dinged, the doors slid open and somehow they made it to their room without getting arrested.

  She was stripping off her jacket as she made her way to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the wharves where a pale sun cast a lemony square over the room’s thick white carpet.

  Tugging off her jumper, yanking off her boots and peeling her jeans down her long toned legs, the shining waterfall of black hair sliding over her shoulders. She stood in the patch of sunlight wearing only a playful smile and a strawberry charm that winked cheekily in her belly button while he pulled his jumper over his head, dropped it on the bed. She looked like some tall and gorgeous genie who’d won a temporary reprieve from her bottle home and wanted to make the most of her brief freedom.

  Then she went very still, her smile gone. ‘What is that?’

  Leo was used to the reaction. Breanna hadn’t seen it the last time they’d had sex because he’d not taken the time to undress. But he didn’t see revulsion in her eyes, just concern as she studied the ugly scar that puckered the right side of his body from waist to hip to the front of his thigh.

  ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘It’s something. What happened?’

  He shrugged, not wanting to talk about it. ‘We didn’t come here to trade war stories.’ Even now, his father was still trying to rule his life from the grave.

  No frigging way. He was stronger now. In control of his circumstances. Able to look out for Sunny the way she deserved to be.

  ‘I can see why you freaked out about my dumb fire accident.’

  And he wanted to share his story with her. Only her. She could listen to his story and learn. ‘There was a house fire. I escaped relatively unscathed, considering. Imagine this happening all over your body.’ He remembered the sight so vividly it was an open wound that never healed. ‘Imagine your body so charred no one can recognise you, not even your own son.