His Convenient Proposal

by Lindsay Armstrong

  She froze for a moment, thinking of Dan Dawson—yet another complication in her messy life!—but relaxed as she remembered that Dan always used the kitchen door. She was quite unprepared, however, for the girl who stood on the other side of the front door with an overnight bag in her hand. A stunning, extremely shapely blonde with true violet eyes, poured into a cyclamen stretch top and black leather trousers.

  ‘Hello?’ Ellie said. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘I hope so,’ the blonde replied, and put the bag down. ‘Does Brett Spencer live here?’

  Enlightenment hit Ellie—the bag was identical to the one in Brett’s bedroom. ‘You must be from the airline! Look, he’ll be so glad to get his bag back.’ She put the bundle of washing she had in her arms down on the hall bench and opened the screen door.

  ‘I’m not from the airline,’ the other girl said wryly. ‘I’m his fellow passenger—we had a great flight together!—and I must have picked up the wrong bag by mistake and I carted it all the way to Melbourne. Lucky there was an address inside his bag because there isn’t one in mine. But I’d really like to hand it over personally, not only because I feel such a clot, but because I want to explain that I got the flu, that’s why it’s taken me so long to bring it back.’

  ‘You—so you must be Kylie Jones?’

  ‘He told you about me? Great! Because I’ve got a thing or two to prove to Brett Spencer.’

  ‘Such as?’ Ellie enquired dazedly.

  ‘Between you, me and the gatepost—’ the girl lowered her voice conspiratorially ‘—he may not think I’m the right girl for him, but I’ve decided to prove him wrong. By the way, my name is Chantal, I don’t use Kylie any more.’ She smiled at Ellie in a friendly way. ‘I guess you must be the cleaning lady?’

  Ellie’s mouth dropped open as her brain synapses fizzed and spun beneath the weight of all this information. Then she looked down at herself. Her jeans were old and frayed. Her T-shirt, once bright pink, was now faded and had tangled with a non-colourfast navy-blue item in a long-ago wash. Her sandals were very comfortable but of a vintage that prohibited her from wearing them in public…

  ‘You could say that,’ she conceded at last. ‘I certainly do a lot of cleaning. But he’s not up yet so—’

  ‘Yes, I am. Chantal, you didn’t have to do this.’

  Ellie swung round. Brett was standing behind her, obviously not long out of bed. His hair was hanging in his eyes, his shirt was hanging out of his cargo pants and his feet were bare. He looked moody and singularly unimpressed with this turn of events, but sensationally sexy at the same time.

  And as if she, Ellie, did not exist, Chantal said with a secret, sexy little smile of her own, ‘Oh, yes, I did, Brett. Why don’t you ask me in for a cup of coffee? I’ve come a long way to restore your bag to you and I would have done it a lot sooner but I got the flu and went to stay with my mum for some TLC.’

  Afterwards, Ellie was never sure why she acted as she did. At the time, she acted on impulse and—instinct? Whatever, she immediately invited Chantal in, adding, ‘There’s a pot of coffee on the stove, as it happens!’ And she resolutely ignored Brett’s steely gaze as she ushered Chantal in all her glory towards the lounge.

  Brett followed, having retrieved his bag, which he put on a table and opened. And she thought she detected a genuine sigh of relief as he took out an envelope folder and a floppy disk container.

  But just as Ellie was about to say she would have the coffee ready in two shakes of a duck’s tail, he sent her another steely glance, then transferred his attention to Chantal. ‘This is Ellie, Chantal. She’s not the cleaning lady, we’re living together.’

  Oh, no, you don’t, Brett Spencer! It shot through Ellie’s mind. Whatever is going on between you and this girl, you’re not going to use me to get yourself out of it! No way!

  ‘Not really living together, just sharing the same house at the moment, Chantal,’ she said soothingly to the bitter look growing in those violet eyes. ‘Why don’t you explain it properly, Brett, while I get the coffee?’

  ‘No, Ellie, sit down,’ he ordered. ‘You too, Chantal.’ There was something so determined in his eyes, they both sank into chairs.

  ‘Chantal,’ he continued less severely, ‘would I be right in assuming you deliberately switched overnight bags?’

  Chantal looked momentarily discomforted.

  ‘Since it was the only way you could come up with of staying in touch?’ he continued rather gently.

  This time Chantal shrugged with her lips twisting. ‘Pretty clever, don’t you think? Of course I had no way of knowing there would be an address in the bag but at least I had something to go to the airline with.’

  By this time Ellie’s synapses were short-circuiting. ‘Did you really switch bags?’ she asked Chantal, her eyes almost standing out on stalks.

  ‘Honey,’ Chantal said, then grinned charmingly, ‘if all you can get out of this guy is the sharing of a house, you might need to be a little inventive yourself!’

  She stood up and smoothed her leather trousers. Then her gaze locked with Brett’s. ‘I decided to take your advice about not making certain assumptions at face value,’ she said simply. ‘I’m taking the Gold Coast job, I’ve got a flat in Brisbane and I’d really like to get to know you better. That’s all. Bye for now—I’ll let myself out!’ And she left. Reminding Ellie, although their figures couldn’t be more different, of the way Dan Dawson had sauntered down the drive last night although there was another, more subtle difference. There had been a slightly self-conscious aura to Dan last night whereas Chantal was not in the least self-conscious, she was just—superb. And Brett’s gaze, although hard, stayed on the doorway for a long moment.

  ‘All right,’ Ellie said a few minutes later over a belated cup of coffee, ‘I accept that you didn’t intend to continue whatever it was you started with Chantal Jones on that long, boring flight. Mind you, I also take issue with that—you obviously got her hopes up in some way.’

  Brett was silent but a faint grin tugged at his lips.

  ‘And I take issue with the fact that you show not one ounce of remorse!’

  ‘Ellie, all I did was talk to her. Then, when she made a rather obvious suggestion, I gave her some very good advice.’

  ‘So I noticed—she’s obviously taken it to heart, in fact!’

  He shrugged.

  And Ellie started to laugh softly. ‘A topless dancer!’

  He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘She’s actually quite a nice girl.’

  Ellie sat up and sipped her coffee, still chuckling. ‘She may be but I certainly don’t feel such a dumb klutz about the errors of judgement I may have made in the past!’

  ‘Well, I’m glad about that but I should point out that I have yet to make an error of judgement.’

  ‘I’d like to bet my bottom dollar it was touch and go, Brett!’ She looked across at him with her eyes sparkling with amusement.

  He studied his cup and grimaced.

  ‘Actually, I quite liked her.’ Ellie looked wry. ‘I thought she handled herself with aplomb in the circumstances.’

  ‘If you can handle yourself topless you can probably handle anything with aplomb.’

  ‘What are you going to do about her?’ Ellie asked.

  ‘Nothing. What are you going to do about Dan Dawson?’

  She frowned. ‘Are you implying there is any similarity between the two cases? I never led Dan on in any way!’

  ‘He does have a picture of you beside his bunk, Ellie.’

  Words failed her briefly and when she could come up with anything, it sounded lame to her own ears. ‘It’s still not the same thing, I had no idea.’

  ‘You’re very judgemental for someone who wasn’t even there,’ he commented.

  Ellie muttered something beneath her breath and stood up impatiently. ‘Since I’ve been mistaken for the cleaning lady, I may as well get on with it!”

  He grinned fleetingly. ‘Chantal might have that effect on ninety
per cent of the female population. I wouldn’t take it to heart. And I need to take myself to work.’ He paused, then touched her lightly on the chin with his knuckles. ‘Why don’t you give the cleaning a miss for a change? The place looks fine to me.’

  How like a man, Ellie thought darkly as she methodically got through her chores, and could not, for the life of her, imagine Chantal washing floors. And later in the day, her woes were compounded when Dan Dawson came to call.

  She found him hovering in the kitchen doorway looking embarrassed.

  ‘Oh—hi, Dan!’

  ‘Ellie, can I come in?’

  ‘Sure,’ she said and hoped the sense of helplessness she felt didn’t come across in her voice. ‘Sit down, if you like.’

  But Dan told her that he preferred to stand and immediately embarked on a long and tangled explanation that nevertheless contained the kernel of what he’d told Brett the previous evening.

  Nor was Ellie able to get a word in edgeways until he finished his monologue with the observation that at least it was out in the open now.

  Ellie sank into a chair and wished herself at the South Pole. It didn’t happen, of course, and there was no dodging the hopeful look in Dan’s blue eyes.

  She swallowed. ‘Dan, I can’t tell you how flattering this all is,’ she began. ‘But…I think I’m too old for you—’

  ‘No way, Ellie! Anyway, I prefer older women,’ he replied fervently.

  ‘But I had no idea!’

  ‘That’s because I’d rather be subtle about these things,’ he said proudly. ‘People look at me and don’t think I could have a subtle bone in my body—you know, oil-well rigger, tough and all that—but that’s not the real me.’

  Ellie stared at him. He was no taller than Brett but a lot broader and all of it hard muscle. He had the neck and shoulders of a front-row forward, very large hands and feet, but he wasn’t bad-looking with thick fair hair and rather shy blue eyes. As a friend, he’d been fun, but what to do now?

  ‘Dan, I never thought you were unsubtle. In fact it’s been a real pleasure to know you but I just don’t think of you in the same way.’

  ‘Is it because of Brett?’

  ‘No! Good heavens, no!’ It was out before she could help herself and not only was it a lie but a tactical error because Dan relaxed visibly.

  ‘Maybe you just need a bit of time to get used to the idea?’ he suggested. ‘Why don’t you think about it?’

  ‘No, thank you, Dan,’ she said firmly. ‘And you definitely must not give up your job because of me—’

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ he interposed with a grin. ‘I’ve had my fill of oil rigs, I’ve saved a small fortune and I’m ready to lead a normal life now. You and Simon wouldn’t want for anything,’ he confided. ‘So have a think, Ellie.’

  His gaze rested on her with an awful mixture of pride and tenderness—awful, because she couldn’t reciprocate and she hated to hurt his feelings—and Simon came pelting through the back door.

  ‘Hey, dude!’ he said to Dan. ‘I didn’t know you were home! Would you like to have a go at the new video game my grandad sent me?’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘YOU’RE looking very pensive, Ellie. Anything wrong?’

  It was the same day but late in the evening. Brett had stayed out for dinner and just come home to find Ellie curled up in the lounge staring into space.

  She stirred. ‘My life has just spun completely out of control, if you really want to know.’

  He grinned. ‘Tell me?’

  She hesitated, then shrugged. ‘I’ve had an offer of marriage.’

  ‘Dan came over to state his case?’ he hazarded.

  ‘He did.’

  ‘And you were able to let him down nicely?’

  Ellie gazed at him broodingly. He wore jeans and a black polo shirt and was looking lean and strong from his broad shoulders down to his thick-soled black shoes. Not only lean and strong but terrifyingly attractive.

  She released a slow breath. ‘It was like knocking my head against a brick wall.’

  Brett sat down on a chintzy settee opposite her and rested his chin on his hand with a grimace. ‘How did you go about it?’

  ‘I tried to tell him I was too old for him.’

  ‘A bit of a cop out,’ he suggested wryly. ‘What did he say to that?’

  ‘He prefers older women.’

  ‘Ellie,’ Brett said, when he stopped laughing, ‘why didn’t you just tell him the truth?’

  ‘I did!’ She looked tragic. ‘But he insisted I think about it. It was all so—I mean, I didn’t want to hurt his pride and—the sum total, I guess, is that this has to have been just about the most unromantic day of my life and there have been a few of those.’

  Brett sobered. ‘You know,’ he said slowly, ‘the kindest thing to do is simply to say no, thanks, Dan—rather than letting it drag on and keeping his hopes alive.’

  ‘I did that as well,’ she said. ‘It just bounced off him. Incidentally, is that how you handled Chantal Jones?’

  His lips twitched. ‘Point taken, Ellie. But I did in fact tell her—quite pointedly—that I was not the man for her.’

  ‘What say Dan is as stubborn as Ms Jones?’

  ‘Just stick to your line. At least he has an oil rig he has to go back to shortly.’

  Ellie sighed. ‘I think I’ll go to bed.’

  ‘No, stay a while.’ He got up and disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a glass of wine for her and a brandy for himself.

  And he waited until she’d sipped some of her wine before he said, ‘Is the lack of romance in your life getting to be a problem, Ellie?’

  She nearly choked on a sip of wine and the look she flashed him was full of hurt before she could compose herself.

  ‘I meant—’ she stood up resolutely and said with dignity ‘—that on top of being mistaken for the cleaning lady by Chantal Jones, being told by a man who then went off to play video games with my son that Simon and I would want for nothing if I married him…was all a bit lowering.’

  ‘I see what you mean,’ Brett replied gravely and stood up himself. ‘Well, then, would this help?’ His gaze wandered up and down her white cotton blouse tucked into colourful, flower-printed shorts. ‘While you were being such a cool, calm and efficient nurse there were times when I—barely—restrained myself from pulling you into bed with me and rendering you a lot less cool and calm.’

  Ellie’s lips parted incredulously.

  ‘Don’t look so surprised. You were also very sweet and there is—’ he put his hands around her waist, nearly spanning it ‘—an awful lot of sweetness packed into this slender frame.’ His gaze dwelt on her breasts. ‘I cannot,’ he went on simply, ‘get it out of my mind.’

  Ellie tried to speak but nothing came out.

  ‘Then there’s your perfume.’

  ‘I don’t wear perfume, it makes me sneeze,’ she did manage to say at last.

  He smiled slightly. ‘That’s what’s so nice about it. Clean and fresh and—just you. And the way your hair curls.’

  He paused and she felt his breath fan her forehead, then he went on. ‘So, you see, Ellie, on this day in fact, you have two men very much taken with you. I would call that quite romantic.’

  ‘Brett, if this is designed to massage my ego,’ she breathed, stunned, ‘you—’

  ‘Not at all,’ he denied as he slid his hands up beneath her breasts and watched intently for her reaction.

  Ellie trembled and did battle with the mental images that came to her—of being pulled into his bed and made love to. But there was so much else to battle, how his hands below her breasts were causing her nipples to tingle, a sure sign they were about to misbehave themselves. How his proximity and that intent query in his grey eyes were weakening factors, as if her body had a mind of its own and was hell-bent on melting with desire beneath Brett Spencer who was tall and strong and everything she wanted.

  She swallowed and told herself to resist this,
but he was more than a match for her. He touched each burgeoning nipple beneath her cotton shirt with his thumbs and a streak of pure, hot sensuality flowed through her, causing her to gasp again although this time with delight.

  ‘Ellie?’ he said then, very softly, and pulled her close so he could kiss her and at the same time demonstrate that he was by no means unaffected.

  When they separated finally, her heart was beating like a runaway train, she was gloriously alive to the splendours of Brett Spencer and the way he made her feel in his arms. As if she couldn’t get enough of him, and the finesse he employed. His touch on her most sensitive spots and the little questions he sometimes asked with his eyes—Is this OK?—and the way her body answered for her—Yes, oh, yes! The way he kissed not only her mouth but the soft hollows at the base of her throat, and the way he showed her that he was quite capable of driving her crazy with desire…

  It was Simon who saved her, although it took her a little while to admit that she needed or wanted to be saved. But no sooner had they parted to catch their breath than they heard his door open and her maternal instincts took over in a flash, so that by the time Simon found them in the lounge she was back sitting in her chair trying to look as normal as possible.

  ‘What’s doing, guys?’ Simon enquired as he rubbed his eyes like a sleepy owl. His hair was standing up at the crown and his pyjama jacket was buttoned up crookedly.

  ‘Nothing much,’ Brett said from his position at the bay window where he’d been looking out over the darkened garden. ‘Can’t you sleep?’

  Simon pulled a face. ‘I was dreaming of skateboards—Mum, if I do the chores I do for pocket money for free for a while, would you be able to afford one then?’

  Ellie opened her mouth but Brett spoke first. ‘I think it would be a better idea if you saved your pocket money so you could buy yourself one.’

  ‘That could take years!’ Simon objected. ‘I’d be old and grey by the time I could afford it.’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Brett looked amused. ‘And there is one way you could augment your earnings. You could clean my car once a week.’