First Time Lucky?

by Natalie Anderson

  He walked to the far corner, where that beautiful gnarled tree literally grew through the floor. But Roxie’s attention was totally swallowed by him. His back view was almost as good as the front—the masculine vee of broad shoulders and slim hips reinforced that impression of strength again. She swallowed as heat flushed through her. It was definitely time to move out and explore some of the world—some men of the world. She’d clearly been waiting too long when she was this affected by the first she’d come across in ages. He put a palm on the trunk, his fingers smoothing over the bark. She remembered the feel of that palm on the side of her face. Her face now burned.

  He turned suddenly. ‘I’ll sign up for a year.’

  Her eyes bugged and she momentarily forgot his hot factor. ‘You don’t even know what the weekly rent is.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. And I want first right of refusal if you do ever decide to sell it.’

  He hadn’t even seen the rest of the house, only the living area, but sometimes the house had an almost magical effect on people. For her it was a tranquil sanctuary—though not with him in it, he’d brought in an electrical charge that put her on edge. But she needed a tenant and if he was serious about a year’s lease, then she had to get over that edge.

  ‘There are a couple of things you don’t know.’ She felt it only fair to warn him, even though her heart was pumping even more crazily now with the prospect he was going to solve her financial problems.

  ‘Conditions?’

  She nodded. ‘You won’t have access to the garage or the little flat above the garage.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Someone’s in the flat?’

  She nodded.

  His expression hardened.

  ‘While I’m in town, I’ll be living there,’ she rushed to explain. It wasn’t some random person he’d not met and she’d stay well away from him. Only her explanation didn’t make him relax; if anything he tensed all the more.

  ‘You’re not usually in town?’ he asked sharply.

  ‘I’m going overseas.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Soon.’ As soon as she had the money, but she decided not to mention that getting all the money together was going to take a few months. ‘I have some things to do before I go,’ she fudged.

  He nodded. Eventually. ‘Okay.’

  Sudden panic slammed into Roxie. It was going to be hard seeing a stranger live here, but it wasn’t for ever and it would still be hers—this was the only way of ensuring it would remain hers. She breathed deep and pushed herself on. ‘The garden will be maintained by the estate.’ That was a plus, right? But she saw his smile of disbelief. ‘You haven’t seen the garden,’ she pointed out defensively.

  His hands spread and he looked down. ‘I’m wearing half that hedge.’

  She frowned at the number of leaves in his hair. ‘I hope you didn’t damage it.’

  ‘Are you seriously telling me the hedge has a gardener?’

  Yeah, he was teasing. And she so wasn’t noticing how that smile shot him from hot to sizzling.

  ‘Totally seriously,’ she said. ‘It needs a lot of care to maintain it.’

  ‘It needs a chainsaw.’

  ‘The hedge stays. As is. That’s one non-negotiable condition.’

  He walked back towards her, his smile curving his too sensual lips wider and in grave danger of distracting her. ‘How am I supposed to get access to the house if I can’t come through the hedge or the garage?’

  ‘There’s a hidden gate on the park side.’

  ‘A hidden gate?’ He chuckled then, an infectious, warm sound.

  The surprise of it, the sexiness of it, almost rendered her speechless. She had to clamp her jaw to stop it from dropping, to stop herself drooling on the floor. She pivoted on the spot so she could no longer see him, so she could think. ‘So much of what makes this house is its privacy. Isn’t that what you like about it?’

  There was a short silence. ‘How astute of you.’ No amusement sounded now. ‘All right, those conditions are no problem for me. I still want to rent it for the year.’

  Roxie felt more dizzy than when she’d been in the shower accidentally inhaling industrial cleaner. ‘I’m going to need references.’

  ‘Sure. How about I give you a cash deposit now to secure it, and we can let our lawyers draw up a lease agreement tomorrow? You have a lawyer, right?’

  ‘Of course. That’s her number on the sign out there. I’ll get her to put those conditions in writing.’

  Gabe nodded and turned to walk back to the tree again, trying to keep his eyes up and away. Because Little Miss Landlady’s white vest-top had not retained opacity in the shower-cleaning session. She might as well be topless. But she didn’t know that and he didn’t want to tell her. He didn’t want to think about it a second longer than he already had. No, he didn’t want to dwell on how completely gorgeous she was. Instead he lectured himself that she looked about seventeen. As if she’d just walked home from school. And he did not, not, not have raging lust for someone barely legal. She was a kid.

  Except she wasn’t. She had the most delicately feminine body he’d ever seen. He’d noticed it at first glance in the bathroom—her long legs, fine-boned shoulders, slender waist, sweetheart-shaped face, smooth, glowing skin, sensually full lips. And then her eyes had opened and stabbed him in the gut. The most vividly blue eyes. He deluded himself that they looked unnaturally vibrant because of that cleaner. That the chemical had some belladonna-poison effect that magnified the intensity of their colour or something. As if. They were just knockout powerful. And now her red-rimmed, stunning eyes were round.

  Yeah, he’d have to be blind not to see how she looked at him. It was a look he was used to and it didn’t usually affect him. Only he was working hard not to give her that same look back. That surprised, almost dazed look that had its roots in sensual appreciation and unexpected desire.

  Maybe he’d inhaled some poisonous fumes too because he couldn’t be thinking this way. Her shorts were old and worn and not any season’s style. Her mouse-brown hair was in a bedraggled ponytail that emphasised that schoolgirl impression. And that damn thin white vest-top had gone transparent. He was trying very hard not to think about the pointed peaks jutting towards him. Because he wasn’t so out of control as to be turned on by almost visible nipples, by imagining cupping those mounds in his hands and bending before her to kiss the pointed tips, to press his face to the softly curved surrounds.

  Okay, he was that out of control and his unruly imagination was making it worse. It’d been too, too long since he’d got laid. Too long he’d been stuck on the straight and narrow and boring. His heart hammered at an insane pace, ringing in his ears. The last thing he’d expected to find beyond that horrendous hedge was an architecturally amazing home complete with some Snow White or Sleeping Beauty or Rapunzel type impossibly pretty Disney princess inside. He couldn’t help wondering where the dwarves, beasts or wicked witches were …

  Oh, he had to snap out of it. It was just frustration addling his reason. Going for a woman like this—one the same age if not younger than Diana—would be insane. She’d undoubtedly want more than he ever would. She’d be emotionally immature, a dreamer with that happy-ever-after fantasy that he was never buying into. It was when he’d been forced to reiterate that to Diana that her inner witch had appeared … intense, needy, a knife-edge to certifiable. Just the thought of that mess was enough to cool him off.

  Almost.

  Thank heavens this woebegone waif was heading overseas. It was only knowing she was leaving that he could take the place. No doubt she’d return from her trip all grown up and sophisticated and if serendipity saw their paths cross again, he’d dally with her then. Uh-huh, like in five years’ time. For now he’d get himself this hideaway and then hide, right away. In a couple of weeks the team had that game in Sydney and he was so hitting the club scene and having a couple of nights all-adult action. Having fought so long to gain independence from family expectation, he wa
s letting no woman hamper his freedom. So he definitely wasn’t hot for Miss Skinny.

  He turned back to face her and named a weekly rental price he figured should be almost on the money for the location.

  ‘Actually I’d been thinking a little more than that. My lawyer will send you the details to set up an automatic payment.’

  So Sleeping Beauty wasn’t that sleepy. Good for her for knowing the high value of her property—and that he could afford it. Biting back all the flirt talk tingling on the tip of his tongue, he got his wallet and pulled out enough cash to cover the first two months. She took it from him with a steady hand and those wide, wide eyes.

  ‘Don’t you think you’d better tell me your name?’ he asked drily, trying to hide how he was dying of desire inside.

  ‘Roxanna Jones,’ she answered, head high and unblushing.

  ‘Good doing business with you, Roxanna.’ So not thinking about the pleasure of it—of her—at all.

  ‘When did you want to move in?’ Roxanna gripped the wad of notes tightly to stop herself from touching him and easing her insanely curious fingertips. Since when had her fingertips itched like this?

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  She gaped. ‘You’re currently homeless?’

  ‘No, but you were right, I like the privacy of this place.’

  ‘I know.’ She smiled, suddenly filled with excitement about her future.

  He jerked a nod, turning abruptly away. ‘Right, I’d better let you get on and finish.’

  ‘You don’t want to see the rest of the house?’

  ‘I’ll check it out tomorrow.’

  ‘Okay, once the lawyer thing is done, I’ll arrange access for you through the garage so you can get all your stuff in.’

  ‘I’d appreciate that,’ he said in a voice loaded with irony.

  She tried to slow her out-of-control heartbeat with some sensible thought. The guy was now her tenant meaning she’d better put all her sizzle response in an ice-bucket. Not going to screw up this deal. Soon she’d be free to go overseas and discover all the way hotter guys out there … except she doubted there’d be a hotter male on the whole planet.

  ‘Do you want to go through the gate or back through the hedge?’ He hadn’t seen the back of the house or the garden, and she wanted to witness his surprise.

  ‘I’ll go through the hedge, try to push some of those branches back into place for you.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ She was disappointed; she’d been looking forward to a smug moment. It was likely to be her one and only with him.

  ‘The hedge is your security system, right?’

  Okay, so he was astute as well as gorgeous. ‘I guess.’ She shrugged as if it didn’t matter so much.

  ‘Then I’ll cover up the stomping great path I just smashed through it. Wouldn’t want anyone else creeping up on you in there and giving you a fright.’

  ‘Good thing I didn’t strip off to do the shower, otherwise it might have been you who got the fright.’ She giggled, a high embarrassed sound that was embarrassing in itself.

  To her surprise, his brief smile seemed as embarrassed and he moved quickly away from her and headed back into the prickly hedge.

  Yeah, real clanger. Mortification cooled her right down as she was rudely reminded that Man of the Millennium didn’t see her as a woman at all. Shaking her head at her gaucheness, she went back to the bathroom to rinse away the last of the cleaner. She glanced in the mirror and O-M-freaking-G. While her red-rimmed and bloodshot eyes were bad enough, her transparent-when-wet vest-top meant all-out wince city. Somehow the effect seemed more revealing than straight nudity, yet Gabe-the-gorgeous hadn’t even blinked. Instead he’d been very particular to look at her face. She figured it had been born from courtesy or something. Or more like utter disinterest given her lack of spectacular in the boobs department. Yeah, that was it. Great. The first mindblowingly handsome man to cross her path and she hadn’t even been able to tempt him into a second look at her near-naked torso. She wondered what she needed to make someone like him do a double take.

  She pulled her hair out of its dreary pony-tail and sighed at the straggly mess. No wonder he hadn’t blinked. She tousled it with her fingers, imagining a new cut and colour. Then she looked at her chest and mentally fastened a cleavage-creating booster bra. Yeah, it was beyond time to glam up. No doubt the sensible thing would be to put that wad of cash in the bank tomorrow but she’d been without for so long and, damn it, now she had the certainty of a monthly rental income she could splurge, right? Just for once? She’d save all she needed in no time and this way she’d look great for her audition. She’d buy some other things to celebrate with too.

  Re-energised, she put her music on and rehearsed one last time—danced hard out until she could dance no more. She slithered to the floor, resting her back against the old tree, and almost immediately thought of him. She heard the amused, low voice in her ear, felt the firmness of his touch. Then she remembered his impassive expression and determination seized her anew. No more would she be that invisible.

  Her work at the Treehouse was finally done; now she deserved some fun. It wasn’t just for the audition that she was going to look fabulous—the next time they met, she was so getting a second glance from her hot, built tenant.

  Hell, make that a third.

  CHAPTER TWO

  GABE got to work mid-afternoon, having spent the morning boxing up the few personal possessions he cared enough about and managing the shift in only two trips. Now, as he got out of his car he heard the music blaring through the speakers into the stadium. Damn, he’d hoped they’d have finished by now. He strode along the corridors to his office and shut the door. He flicked on his computer and checked his email. Excellent, the test results he’d been waiting for had landed. He settled more comfortably in his chair and started to work through them. But his door was flung open less than ten minutes later.

  ‘Gabe, good you’re here, I need you to take a look at one of these girls.’ Dion, the stadium CEO. Dion who had no problem watching the wannabe dancers auditioning.

  ‘No.’ Gabe didn’t even glance up from his computer.

  ‘Seriously, I need you. Bee sting. Looks like she’s allergic.’

  ‘Oh, you’ve got to be kidding. A bee sting?’ Gabe growled. ‘That would have to rank as the most pathetic attempt ever.’

  ‘But genuine. You really—’

  ‘Dion,’ Gabe interrupted, still staring at his screen, ‘I’ve seen sprained ankles, sore calves, strained wrists. All fake. But a bee sting is a first. Certainly more inventive … if it weren’t for the fact that there are no bees on that pitch. They’re banned from play with chemical spray.’

  ‘Gabe—’

  ‘Come on,’ Gabe sighed with weary sarcasm. ‘I don’t want to deal with another desperate-to-date dancer. Enough, okay?’

  More than enough. After causing a cold war in his family for a few years over his refusal to conform to tradition, and the horror of an ex-lover psycho stalking him, Gabe had learned a couple of things. Firstly, he wasn’t limiting his life by getting married and therefore having to compromise on his own goals for the rest of his days. And to be sure of escaping that noose, he knew he had to make his intentions clear from the start, to only seek company from the equally sophisticated and never mess with a woman who had anything to do with his workplace. Especially this workplace where temptation, exacerbated by all the travel, was too much for most men anyway. He’d seen it so many times—embarrassingly short marriages, even more embarrassing scandals.

  ‘I should have told you I’d brought her with me.’ With a wicked grin Dion stepped further in and too late Gabe saw the smaller figure behind him. ‘And for the record, I had to drag her here. She reckons she’s fine but I don’t agree.’

  Oh, great. Gabe winced. The girl had to have heard every word. Still, that was probably good—dispelling any ideas she might have had. He pushed out from behind his desk and shot the departing Dion a foul look. Dion merel
y winked.

  Gabe looked at his new patient. Her head was bent so he couldn’t see her face. Naturally she was blonde. And naturally the blonde wasn’t natural at all. He could see the myriad colours streaked through the long length that fell in gentle curves past her shoulders. She had the long, slim limbs of the dancer. And the extremely brief attire. Then she looked up at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed but challenging. Her cheeks flushed. Her mouth full but firm. All instantly recognisable.

  Good grief.

  Gabe just stared, his brain fuzzy, a humming in his ears. He had to be mistaken on this. But he wasn’t. This was his under-age landlady? Sleeping Beauty from the wilderness?

  ‘Hello, Gabe.’ Despite the colour in her cheeks, the rest of her face was deathly pale.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

  ‘You mean you haven’t worked it out already?’ Her wildly blue eyes glittered. But not from tears. No, it was all defiance.

  His gaze narrowed. No, he couldn’t believe his eyes. The mouse-brown hair was now shot through with gold. And there was so much polish. She was wearing marginally more than she had been yesterday. Actually the shorts were even shorter—micro shorts, the exact colour of her eyes. And instead of a see-through old vest-top, she had a pink leotard on. The whole outfit too skin-clinging for comfort.

  ‘I thought you said you were going overseas,’ he said stupidly.

  ‘I am.’ She looked at him through lashes perfectly—but heavily—mascaraed.

  ‘Then why are you trying out for the Blades?’ He swallowed. Was this high-gloss vision truly the same sodden waif he’d met less than twenty-four hours before? Helplessly he glanced down her leotard-clad torso again. Not the slim waif at all. Curves had mushroomed magically. He bit his lip to stop the smile and the comment he so badly wanted to make.

  ‘I’m going overseas at the end of the season,’ she said. ‘I want to dance first.’

  ‘The end of the season?’ He was appalled; his amusement fled. That wasn’t soon. He’d thought she was shipping out in a week or so. How was he supposed to live in that house with her a stone’s throw away for the best part of six months? Especially if she was going to be glammed up something gorgeous like this?