Her Not-So-Secret Diary

by Anne Oliver

  Jared gathered her to him. For a long moment he offered no words, just a hug as sweet and comfortable as it was uncomplicated.

  ‘I send them Christmas and birthday cards with a cheque when I can afford it. They cash the cheques without fail but I’ve never heard boo from them. So I don’t go back. I don’t want to.’

  He squeezed her hand. They both knew the money was wasted. ‘So…you keep a dream diary,’ he prompted, switching to a less painful topic a moment later.

  ‘Yes.’ Her pulse skipped a beat and she swivelled to face him. How did he know?

  ‘I saw it on your bed when I left you in the shower. Hard to miss with the bright neon scrawl on the cover. Relax, Sophie, I didn’t read it. I would never invade your privacy that way.’

  ‘Okay.’ She blew out a breath. Silence filled the tiny space between them and in those quiet heartbeats she trusted him with the truth. ‘I used to have nightmares. My counsellor suggested it way back and it’s become a routine.’

  She felt the warmth of his understanding flow over her. ‘Do you still have bad dreams?’

  ‘Not so much now.’ It occurred to her suddenly that she’d not made an entry since Saturday morning.

  ‘Am I in there?’ His voice turned playful.

  She shoved at his arm. ‘You know you are.’

  ‘How many times?’

  She grinned. ‘Not telling.’

  ‘What about fantasies, do you write them down too?’

  ‘No. They’re entirely different.’

  ‘Tell me a fantasy.’

  ‘I…can’t.’

  ‘Sure you can.’

  ‘You’ll laugh. Or think I’m awful.’

  ‘I promise I won’t do either.’

  She snuggled nearer. ‘I’ve always imagined making love in the open. Under the stars. I’ve never done it outside.’

  ‘Never?’

  She shook her head, then looked at him in the semi-darkness. ‘You?’

  The curve of his lips and the twinkle in his eyes pronounced him guilty but he didn’t answer, just lifted her off the couch and carried her to his bed.

  Jared’s body clock woke him daily at precisely five-thirty a.m. no matter what time he’d gone to bed. Another of those predictable patterns that made up his life. He was also one of those people many either envied or hated for his ability to rise and shine the moment his eyes opened. He habitually swam for thirty minutes then breakfasted on oranges or pineapple, two eggs and strong black coffee.

  But it had been a very long time since he’d woken with a woman lying beside him.

  And that woman was currently dead to the world. And no wonder—he’d kept her awake most of the night. He’d not been able to get enough of her. Her sweet taste, her summer fragrance, her silken hair rippling over his body in black waves when she was on top. The moans she made when she came…and there’d been a few, he thought with a smile.

  He wondered how long it had been since she’d been with a man.

  She shifted in her sleep, a tiny smile touched the corner of her mouth as if she was dreaming. Of him and the things he’d done to her through the night, perhaps. The things they’d done to each other.

  His erection hardened, throbbed, almost to the point of pain while he continued to watch her. But it was more than the physical. And that bothered him. Healthy lust was all well and good, but this…almost desperate need— Scratch that thought. Good grief, he was not desperate. But he’d never experienced anything quite like the way it was with Sophie. Alarming was what it was.

  Sophie was moving on, and that was best for both of them. He reminded himself he went for outdoorsy girls—personal trainers rather than personal assistants.

  And yet… He frowned, trying to make sense of it. They’d both agreed it was short term, so what the heck was the problem?

  He needed space. Hardly daring to breathe, he backed off the bed and padded outside to where the pool’s mirrored surface reflected the waning night.

  Away from temptation. Better. He rubbed chilled arms then slid silently beneath the water. Cold water rushed past his ears as he torpedoed forward, feet and legs working economically. There was no problem, he assured himself as he broke the surface halfway down the pool’s length.

  Deliberately blanking his mind, he sliced through the water, concentrating on his body. The pull of his muscles, the drag of air into his lungs, the taste of chlorine on his lips. After some time, more relaxed and to keep himself that way, he mentally rehearsed the day ahead. They didn’t have to be anywhere until their appointment at Brett Cameron’s office.

  Brett was refurbishing an apartment block in Noosa Heads overlooking the ocean. He’d used Jared’s services for one of his resorts in nearby Mooloolaba. A man with a well-known business reputation and seemingly limitless funds.

  But it wasn’t only his reputation in business, his reputation with women was even more legendary. He was one of the wealthiest playboys this side of Brisbane.

  And that was a problem.

  Jared dragged himself to the edge of the pool and watched the eastern sky’s pearl-grey dawn lighten. He and Sophie hadn’t discussed exclusivity. Well, of course they hadn’t. Why would they? A couple of weeks of fun, nothing to get serious or heavy about.

  Brett Cameron wasn’t Sophie’s type, Jared assured himself. And how the hell would he know that? And even if he wasn’t, every woman with a pulse was Cameron’s type. Or so the rumours went.

  Frowning, Jared padded to a tower of white shelves and helped himself to a towel, rubbed it over his head and face. Brett seemed a nice enough guy and Jared respected his business acumen, but where women were concerned…well, he was just glad he didn’t have a daughter living in Noosa. A PA in Surfers Paradise was enough of a worry.

  Deliberately, he shook it off and turned his thoughts to the present, swiping his body while he considered whether to let Sophie sleep or wake her. That feeling of desperation, of not being in control, washed through him once more.

  No. He wasn’t going to allow himself to be led down that path. Not by Sophie Buchanan, not by anyone. He tossed the towel over a lounger. After so many years of being there for his sisters, particularly Lissa, lust and good times were his due. He wasn’t ready for anything more.

  But… He paused on his way to the shower. He’d make something of the time they had left so that when they went their separate ways they’d both have something to remember.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  WAS that wonderful smell hot coffee? Sophie surfaced from sleep just enough to reach for Jared with her eyes still closed. To feel that hot male body next to her and make sure it wasn’t a dream this time. But the sheets were cool and she realised she was alone. When she opened her eyes the sun was streaming through the window and sparkling on the surface of the pool outside.

  She checked the time and bolted upright. Cripes, she’d slept in. They had a meeting in just over half an hour. Why had Jared not woken her? If she didn’t know better she’d have thought he was deliberately leaving her behind, except she also knew he had a firm policy on not allowing pleasure to interfere with business. He’d expect his PA to be ready on time, no matter what her personal circumstances. Pam could attest to that. So was it some kind of test?

  She scrambled out of bed and dragged the sheet around her like a toga since her clothes were in another bedroom and she was not going to wander the corridor naked. He was probably busy with last-minute details and just expected her to be ready…yikes…any minute now. Clutching the sheet, she made a dash to her room, grabbed her toiletries and flew into the shower.

  Ten minutes later, a record by any woman’s standards, she figured, dressed, minimum make-up, hair knotted severely beneath its clasp to mask its untamed nature since she’d not had time to wash it, she walked smartly into the kitchen area as if she weren’t half an hour later than she ought to be.

  She started to greet him, then stopped, suddenly self-conscious. What did you say to a new lover you’d had sex with all ni
ght long? A man who’d seen almost every inch of her body up close and personal. This was her second time at facing him after sex and she really needed to get used to it, but still, a flush rose up her neck. She was hardly an expert on such etiquette. Just call me Ms Naïvety.

  He was sitting at a polished wooden table, the only furniture in the room that wasn’t white, frowning over something on his laptop, but he looked up as she came to a stop by the coffee maker.

  The residual heat she saw in his eyes was enough to light her fire all over again. But that was the only remnant of last night’s passion and it flickered and died as he said, ‘Good morning, Sophie.’

  She thought of the impatient growl when he’d murmured her name against her breast last night. When he’d come deep inside her in the early hours. A contrast to this morning’s briskly delivered greeting. And in the harsher, more demanding light of day it wasn’t her lover she saw, but her boss. He was dressed for their upcoming appointments, his suit jacket on the sofa nearby. Freshly showered and shaved, he looked a picture of urban success and sophistication.

  ‘Good morning.’ She ran a finger inside the waistband of her slimline skirt and adjusted it, tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and hoped she scrubbed up as well as he.

  That she could be as sophisticated about last night as he.

  Because he didn’t mention it. Not a word, not even a hint, for goodness’ sake… How awkward. No wonder they said office affairs were mistakes. She turned away, poured herself a mug of coffee and had only taken the first sip when Jared informed her they were leaving in five.

  Fine. Be a pain in the proverbial. ‘Okay.’ She set her mug on the bench with a sharp chink. ‘I’ll get my stuff.’

  She was tempted, so tempted, to demand he tell her what his problem was, but they had no time to spare and she didn’t want to get into something they might have to stop in the middle of, which in turn could make the situation even more awkward. Later, after hours, they were going to have a conversation about this. What did he think—that she was going to jump his bones in front of the client? That she didn’t know what the word professional meant?

  Or that he’d changed his mind and one night was enough.

  An iron band tightened around her stomach. Please, not that. She knew they only had a short time but she wasn’t ready to let him go yet. She wanted more. She needed to get him out of her system before she left Australia.

  Jared turned the car radio’s volume up and scowled at the road in front of them as they covered the few minutes it took to drive to their destination. He hadn’t given Sophie time to eat breakfast. He should’ve woken her. His idea to go to the meeting without his PA was unprofessional. His usual clarity of mind was this morning a jumble of confusion. She was getting to him in ways that weren’t supposed to happen. Making him indecisive. Making him look a complete incompetent.

  Cameron met them at the front of the building. With his dark surfer-streaked gold hair and ocean-blue eyes, even Jared could see why women would find him attractive. He introduced Sophie.

  ‘Welcome to Noosa, Sophie.’ He shook her hand. ‘You’re a new member of Jared’s team?’

  ‘Just filling in for Pam for a few days.’ She looked about her, took out a small pad and pen in favour of high tech. ‘You have a lovely position here. Great potential.’

  ‘I reckon so. I want Jared’s opinion on it.’

  Jared nodded. ‘Okay, let’s take a look around outside first and get a feel for the place.’

  Perched on the hillside with breathtaking views of the beach and ocean, it had definite potential. Jared noted that Sophie returned their host’s casual charm with a smile and professional courtesy as they inspected the premises. Jotting notes, asking pertinent questions of the two of them. If she found Cameron irresistible, she showed absolutely no sign.

  On the other hand, neither did she show any sign that she found Jared even the tiniest bit irresistible. Busy with her notes, she barely acknowledged him at all, unless it was to clarify something, and then she did so with politeness and professionalism.

  As it bloody well should be. Exactly what he expected, no, demanded of his PA. Why the hell should this time be any different?

  Downstairs in a makeshift office, she set up her laptop on a small desk and worked on her own while Jared and Brett discussed the proposal and possible contractors.

  Over coffee, she asked a question of Cameron. He leaned over to study her screen and met her eyes as he spoke. Sophie seemed to be riveted to her chair, those big amber eyes of hers looking up at him.

  And Jared felt something uneasy and unfamiliar scratch across his skin and bury itself in his solar plexus like a hot blunt knife. The scrape and burn of possessiveness.

  ‘What’s your opinion, Jared?’

  Jared blinked, aware they were both watching him and expecting some sort of reply. Sophie raised her eyebrows at him.

  ‘Jared was only talking about that yesterday on the way up,’ she said smoothly. ‘Didn’t you say you preferred to use local labour where possible?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied. What’s your problem? her expression said. He wished to hell he knew. Thank you, was his wordless reply. He shifted his gaze to his client. ‘Did you have someone in mind…?’

  When they were leaving, Cameron turned to Sophie and said, ‘If you’re looking for work and want something more permanent, my organisation has a vacancy at present. I’m sure you’d fill it more than adequately.’

  His organisation? Not bloody likely, Jared thought. If she decided to stay, she’d be staying at Sanderson’s.

  Did she hesitate? He wasn’t sure, but his breath caught in his chest. Then she smiled up at the other man. ‘Thanks, but I’m going overseas soon.’ Jared’s relief, and a certain smugness, was short-lived.

  ‘When you return…’ Cameron pulled out a business card ‘…the offer will still be valid.’ He wrote something on the back then handed it to her, trademark blue eyes twinkling. ‘If circumstances change…’

  Jared frowned. Was that an invitation in his tone? Was it business? Was it social? Was it pertinent to the message on the card? Damn it, from his position opposite Sophie he couldn’t see what the guy had written.

  Sophie glanced at the writing, smiled, nodded then tucked it into her purse. And then they were shaking hands. Smiles all round…

  Paranoia. Jared clenched his fingers then very deliberately relaxed them. He extended his hand the moment Cameron relinquished Sophie’s. ‘Brett. Thank you for thinking of Sanderson’s. You can expect our written proposal by next Wednesday.’

  Cameron nodded, his grip firm. ‘Look forward to it.’

  Sophie wandered the Noosa Marina with Jared late that afternoon. Lots of cool blue—blue sails, blue paint, blue sky. There was a casual holiday atmosphere with tourists and locals alike eating at the variety of local cafés on the wharf, strolling the decking, poking around the one-of-a-kind stores from high-end fashion to fishing tackle.

  Jared had suggested it as a good place to unwind after a day’s work and he was right. Trouble was, Sophie noticed, he never seemed to completely switch off. Not healthy.

  The strong smell of the water pervaded the aroma of fresh-cooked seafood and the exotic fragrances emanating from the local day-spa shop. She rubbed a slight stiffness at the base of her skull as they passed the open door.

  ‘Did I work you too hard today?’

  She dropped her hand from her neck, shook her head. ‘But I’d kill for one of those day-spa pampering packages.’

  ‘According to Crystal, they’re heaven-sent.’

  ‘Actually I’ve never had one.’ Sophie shrugged. ‘The money never seems to stretch that far. But it’s definitely on my to-do list.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  ‘Yes.’ She glanced at him. ‘They’re good for men too, you know.’

  His response was a mere rumble that sounded suspiciously like disagreement. Typical macho man.

  There was a band playing in one of
the restaurants; the wooden decking vibrated with the sounds of countless feet. A plethora of boats bobbed on the water; ferries and cruising restaurants all jostling for space in the popular marina, their gentle putter and the sound of water washing against their hulls filling the air.

  Jared slowed as they approached a small cruiser tied up at the jetty, its paintwork gleaming red-gold in the late afternoon sun. A sunset dinner cruise by the looks of it, Sophie thought, admiring the little white-cloth-covered tables on board.

  ‘You like sunsets and tonight looks like we might be in for a good one. How would you like to see it over the water tonight?’

  ‘I’d love to. But if you’re thinking this boat, it doesn’t look like it’s ready to sail for a while. There’s no one else here. And you probably have to book.’

  ‘Let’s see.’ Jared walked to the gangway where one of the crew, dressed in whites, was laying out cutlery on one of the tables.

  He looked up as they approached. ‘Good evening.’

  ‘Good evening.’ Jared nodded to him. ‘I made a booking earlier.’

  The guy smiled. ‘Mr Sanderson?’

  ‘Yes.’ Jared turned to Sophie. ‘Feeling hungry yet?’

  Her stomach fluttered but it wasn’t with hunger. He’d remembered a throwaway comment she’d made last week about sunsets. Macho and romantic was Jared Sanderson. And she had the perfect dress to wear—a soft floaty sea/tea green that she’d popped in her bag at the last moment…back at their house. Right now her navy skirt and cream blouse were limp with a day’s wear and humidity. ‘Now?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I’m in my work gear…and I’ve been in it all day. I’m hardly dressed for eating out.’

  His gaze smouldered down her body like slow-moving lava. She’d never get used to that look and how it made her feel. Desired, dreamy, distracted.

  Hot.

  ‘Relax, Ms Buchanan, it’s just you and me and a couple of crew. And you look as fresh as you did at ten o’clock.’ He held out his hand to her, palm up. ‘What do you say, is it all aboard?’