by Miranda Lee
A couple of drops of water fell from the base of the frosted glass onto his almost hairless chest, Jessica's fascinated eyes following them as they trickled down to pool in his navel, which was sinfully exposed above the low-slung white shorts.
Jessica found herself swallowing, her throat suddenly dry. Her eyes dropped further as he continued his measured descent, taking in every inch of his leanly muscled legs. They lifted at last to once again encounter his face, no longer obscured by the glass.
It was as disturbingly attractive as the rest of him, with a strong straight nose, an elegantly sculptured jawline, bedroom blue eyes and a far too sexy mouth. As he drew nearer, Jessica's stunned fascination gradually turned to a simmering fury.
Hadn't seen thirty in many years, my foot! she thought angrily. Even if he did look young for his age, he could be no more than thirty-five. If that!
Before he reached the bottom step she'd flung open the car door and stepped out, drawing herself up to her full height and glaring scornfully into that now treacherously smiling face. No one had to tell Jessica what sort of man he was. She hadn't come down in the last shower.
His smile faltered, then faded, his narrowed blue gaze staring, first into her cold black eyes, then down over her stiffly held body and up again. Was he taken aback by her obvious contempt for him? Had he imagined for one moment that he could fool her, too?
Jessica almost laughed. Sebastian Slade was everything she'd feared when she'd first heard of him. And possibly more.
Despite all this, she swiftly and sensibly decided to hide her feelings, smoothing the derision from her face and stepping forward with her hand politely stretched out. There was no need to be overtly rude to him. She knew the score now. Why make her stay more awkward than it would already be?
She would endure his undoubted hypocrisy for the next month then send him packing without anything to remember her by, except a few parting shots. Oh, yes, she would tell him what she thought of him on that final day. And she'd enjoy every word!
He hesitated to take her hand, staring at it for a few seconds before staring into her face. His expression reminded her of the way Aunt Lucy had stared at her that day. What was it about the way she looked that was so surprising? Okay, so she didn't look like her mother, but she was very like her father, who'd been tall, with dark eyes and hair.
Jessica was beginning to feel a little unnerved by his intense regard when Evie joined them, laughing.
'You-should see the look on your face, Sebastian,' she said as she swept the empty glass out of his hand. 'Yes, Lucy's niece is a striking-looking woman, isn't she? Not exactly what you expected, eh what?'
'Not exactly,' he said, a rueful smile hovering about his sensually carved mouth.
She found herself glaring at that mouth and wondering caustically if it had pressed treacherous kisses to her aunt's lips. It would be naive of her to think that a woman in her fifties would not take a lover twenty years her junior. It happened a lot in the name of lust. Lust for a beautiful young male body on her aunt's part. Lust for money and material gain on Mr. Slade's.
'Welcome to Norfolk Island,' he said formally at last, taking her hand in his.
'And welcome to Lucy's Place. How do you like it?'
I'd like it a lot more, she thought crossly, if you'd let go my hand. And if you'd go put some more clothes on. Damn, but the man was breathtakingly attractive. On a rating of zero to ten, his sex appeal would measure twenty.
'It's lovely,' she said truthfully, but stiffly.
'Do you think you might change your mind about staying on and living here, then?'
'No, I can't see that happening,' she replied, despite feeling a definite tug at her heartstrings. Anyone would love to live in such a beautiful house. But a house did not make a home, and life on Norfolk Island was not for her, however sweet their customs.
Was that relief she glimpsed in his eyes, or disappointment? Actually, it looked more like frustration. Jessica's brain began to tick over. Did Mr. Slade have some secret agenda where she was concerned? Did he need more than a month to achieve his goal?
And what could that goal be? she puzzled. To move on to the next victim, perhaps? To seduce his dearly departed lover's heiress?
Jessica shuddered at the thought.
'She'll change her mind,' Evie said confidently, and moved up the steps. 'Her case is on the back seat, Sebastian,' she called over her shoulder. 'Flex your muscles and bring it inside. I'll go rustle up some lunch.'
At least he released her hand then. And moved away.
Jessica was annoyed with herself for letting him get under her skin, even a little. Still, she had to admit that his physical charisma was incredible. It was as well she was on her guard against him.
'I won't, you know,' she said tartly when he returned with her case.
'Won't what?'
'Stay on and live here. There's nothing you can say or do to change my mind.'
'What makes you think I'd want to change your mind?'The coldness in his voice surprised her, as did the scorn that flashed across his face. It was hardly the way a man would act if he had seduction on his mind.
'I promised Lucy I would make your month's stay as enjoyable as possible,'
he went on, just as coldly, 'and that I would show you what the island has to offer. But I can see already you're not the sort of girl to appreciate simple things or a simple lifestyle, so I won't overtax myself playing persuader.'
'You're too kind,' she countered, matching his icy tone.
His top lip lifted slightly, just short of a sneer. 'Tell me, Miss Rawlins. What's the sum total of your reason for coming here? Are you interested at all in finding out about your heritage and your roots? Or is this simply a matter of money?'
Jessica began quivering with suppressed rage. 'Don't you dare presume to judge me, you... you gigolo!'
He actually dropped her case. It tumbled down the steps, but he made no move to try to retrieve it. He simply stood there, staring wide-eyed into her flushed face.
'Gigolo?' he exclaimed.
His shock was echoed by her own. Whatever had possessed her to say such a stupid thing! As true as it might be, it had been a tactless and very rude accusation. Still, having voiced her private beliefs, Jessica was not about to back down. Why should she when he'd virtually accused her of being a mercenary money-grabbing bitch?
'Are you saying you weren't my aunt's lover?' she asked scornfully. 'That you haven't been hanging around here for what you could get?'
'Good God. What a nasty piece of work you are!'
'Don't try to turn the tables on me, Mr. Slade,' she bit out. ' You're the one described in my aunt's will as her loyal and loving companion, yet you must be twenty years younger than she was. You're the one who's wangled it so that you're still living here free of charge. I've no doubt you always did! And you're the one who inherits everything if I don't comply with my aunt's peculiar wishes. Are you saying you never made love to her? That you didn't worm your way into her affections with sex? That she didn't give you her car, and God knows what else, for services rendered?'
Jessica reeled under the chilling contempt in his arctic blue eyes. 'I'm going to forget you said that, because if I don't, I might be tempted to break my word to the nicest woman I've ever known. You might be her niece, but I can see you don't have a single gene of hers. No doubt you take after your pathetic parents!'
Jessica's face went bright red. 'You didn't even know my parents! And you certainly don't know me!'
His mouth opened to say something, then closed again. He looked away from her, his hands lifting to rake through his hair before looking back, a shuddering sigh emptying his lungs.
'Let's stop this right now,' he said with cool firmness. 'I have no intention of spending the next month exchanging verbal darts with you. Neither will I defend the relationship I had with your aunt, other than to say I never sought anything from her but her friendship, which I hope I gave back in kind.'
'Are y
ou saying that you weren't her lover?' Jessica challenged. His top lip curled with more contempt as his gaze swept over her. 'Would you believe me if 1 said no?'
'Try me.'
His cold gaze swept over her quite insultingly.
'No, I don't think I will,' he said at last with a derisive glitter in his eyes. Jessica stiffened. 'Very funny. If you won't deny it, then I will have to presume that you were.'
'Believe what you like,' he replied with cold indifference.
'Oh, I will, Mr. Slade,' she said tartly. 'I will. As to your accusation that I'm only here for the money... I won't be holier than thou and say money isn't important to me. It is. But not to the extent you've implied. Still, I, too, see no need to defend myself. I'm not sure if you know this, but I had no idea I even had an aunt till recently, when she showed up at the hotel where I work.'
'Yes, I do know about that,' he said, surprising her.
'But...but I thought you didn't know of my existence till the will showed up.'
'I didn't know your full name and address till the will showed up. But I did know Lucy had found she had a niece named Jessica working in a hotel in Sydney, and that she'd left everything to you in her will. Lucy only spoke of you by your first name. I naturally assumed I would know all the necessary details once the will was read, but when Lucy died, I couldn't find the damned thing. It had slipped behind a drawer, you see.'
'Yes, the solicitor told me.'
'Frankly, Lucy told me only the barest of details about you. She didn't seem to want to talk about your one meeting. I was about to ring every hotel in Sydney when I came across the will.'
'Are you saying you can't tell me why Aunt Lucy left the hotel that day without really speaking to me?' Jessica asked painfully. 'You know, she stared at me like I was a ghost-at first. I was called away for a few minutes, and when I returned she was gone. She hadn't even told me her last name, either, which was why / wasn't able to trace her.'
'I see. That explains a few questions I had myself, but no... I'm afraid I can't tell you why Lucy ran away from you. God only knows. Perhaps she was having trouble coming to terms with the guilt of never having looked up her sister before and seeing if she was all right. I think the news that Joanne was dead came as a dreadful shock to her.'
Jessica was shaking her head, her eyes dropping wearily to the ground. 'I don't understand any of it.'
A surprisingly gentle hand on her arm jerked her head upright. She was stunned by the momentary compassion in those beautiful blue eyes of his, and the confusion it stirred in her heart. Compassion was not something she was familiar—or comfortable—with. On top of that, it was not at all what she was expecting from this man.
'Of course you can't understand any of it,' he said with surprising sympathy.
'It's hard enough to understand what goes on in our own lives. Much more difficult to work out the lives of others. But you have a month to find some answers for your questions. I'll help as much as I can. Not that I have all the answers. But for now, why don't you come inside? It's hot out here, and Evie will be wondering where we are.'
Jessica automatically pulled back when he went to take her arm, feeling flustered by his suddenly solicitous attitude towards her. Such an about-face had to be viewed with some suspicion.
His frown carried frustration. 'There's no need to act like that. I was only trying to be friendly.'
'Why?' she demanded. 'A few minutes ago, you were calling me a nasty bit of work.'
'That was a few minutes ago. Maybe I've changed my mind about you since then.'
And maybe pigs might fly, she thought cynically, one of her eyebrows lifting in a sceptical arch.
A wry smile curved his mouth to one side, bringing her attention to those sensually carved lips, and where they might have been. The thought that he might have changed his mind about seducing her held an insidiously exciting aspect, one she would find hard to ignore.
But ignore it she would. She hadn't come here to fall victim to the slick, shallow charms of a man like Sebastian Slade, no matter how sexy he was.
'I see you still don't trust me,' he said dryly. 'Funnily enough, I can see your point of view. I dare say there are others on this island who think the same as you. I've just never cared what they thought. I stopped caring about what people thought of me some years ago.'
'Lucky ol' you,' she retorted tartly. 'Would we could all have the same privilege. Unfortunately, most of us have to live in the real world and work at a real job, which means we do have to worry what others think.'
'But you don't have to, Jessica,' he pointed out in a silky soft voice, which rippled down her spine like a mink glove. 'You don't have to live in the real world any more, or work at a real job, if you don't want to. Neither do you have to give a damn what people think. You can do what you like from this day forward.'
It was a wickedly seductive thought, provocatively delivered by a wickedly seductive man. She looked at him, her face a bland mask, while she battled to stop her mind from its appalling flights of fancy.
He was technically right, of course. If she invested her inheritance wisely she would never have to work again for the rest of her life, or kowtow to a boss. He was also right about her not having to worry about what other people thought, especially during the next month. Out here on this island, in this isolated house, she could do exactly as she pleased, and there was no one to judge or condemn.
Why was he pointing that out to her? She puzzled over this. Was it part of his seduction technique, to corrupt his victim with thoughts of a lifestyle of totally selfish and hedonistic behaviour?
He would have to do better than that, she thought with bitter amusement. She'd been seduced before by good-looking liars and had no intention of going that route again, no matter how stunningly this particular liar was put together.
'Let me tell you something, Mr. Slade,' she said coolly. 'I happen to like the real world, not to mention my real job. But thank you for explaining that I don't have to worry about what other people think of me here. I hope that includes you.'
He stared at her, and she would have loved to know what he was thinking.
'Touche,' he said at last, the smallest of wry smiles playing around his mouth. 'By the way, call me Sebastian, would you? Or Seb, if you prefer.'
'I prefer Sebastian,' she said crisply.
Which she did, actually. It also suited him very well. It was a strong name, yet sensual—like its owner. Not a modern name. There was nothing modern about Sebastian's looks. If he'd been an actor, he would never be cast as a business executive. He would, however, make a magnificent Viking prince, or a knight in King Arthur's court, or one of the Three Musketeers, with a feathered hat atop his flowing locks.
'Sebastian it will be, then,' he agreed nonchalantly. 'I'll just get your case.'
He turned and walked with indolent grace down the steps to where it had fallen, his bending over drawing his shorts tightly over his tantalisingly taut buttocks.
Jessica tried not to stare, but she was doomed to failure. Never had a man's body fascinated her so much before. There again... it was a gorgeous body. He straightened and turned, their eyes meeting as he slowly mounted the steps. It wasn't just his body, she conceded ruefully. Those eyes were like blue magnets, drawing her, tempting her. And that mouth of his was made strictly for sin.
Damn, but she hoped nothing she was thinking was showing on her face. Self-preservation had Jessica throwing him one of her coolest looks before whirling and walking up the steps and into her Aunt Lucy's beautiful home.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE house was even more beautiful inside than out. Over a hundred years old, Sebastian told her, but lovingly cared for and restored to retain its original old-world charm.
The use of Norfolk pine was extensive, from the polished timber floors to the stained wall panelling to the kitchen benches and cupboards. Very little of the furniture, however, was made from local wood.
Sebastian explained that most pieces
had been shipped in from New Zealand and Australia and even England, and were made from a variety of woods. There were fine examples of oak and teak, mahogany and rosewood, walnut and cedar.
The bathrooms featured black marble from Devon, brought over in sailing boats a century before. The bedrooms were a delight to behold, with their carved four-poster beds and exquisitely delicate furnishings. Everywhere Jessica looked there was lace in some form or other. Lace curtains and bedspreads, tablecloths and doilies. In pure whites and rich creams, the lace lent an old-world atmosphere and blended beautifully with the fine porcelain figurines that rested on the many ornamental side tables and shelves. Overhead, the light fittings were mainly brass. Underfoot, fine woven rugs in earthy colours took the chill off the floors. It was a warm and wonderful home, with style and an air of contentment Jessica could only envy.
She felt guilty at the thought she might sell her aunt's property to someone who would not care for the home and its contents as her aunt obviously had. It would be a crime to disturb a single thing. Everything fitted together like a jigsaw puzzle. There wasn't a piece missing.
'What a perfect, perfect place,' she murmured as she wandered through one of the large living rooms, running an affectionate hand along the mantelpiece above the marble fireplace.
'It was Lucy's pride and joy,' Sebastian said.
Jessica's eyes moved reluctantly to where he'd stayed standing in the doorway, her suitcase at his feet.
She'd avoided looking at him too much during her grand tour of the house. Inside, he seemed even more naked than he had outside. And much sexier..
.if that were possible.
Jessica had been quite unnerved when they'd brushed shoulders once, a decidedly sexual quiver running through her at the physical contact. After that, she'd kept her distance. He seemed to keep his, too, for which she was grateful. She could think of nothing more embarrassing—or awkward—than his finding out she was in any way vulnerable to him.
