There's Something About a Rebel- (6 page)

He turned on his heel and left the room.

Lissa watched him go, her pulse still galloping from here to eternity. She touched her mouth, still damp from Blake’s. With him she was still that naive girl who didn’t know any better and who hadn’t learned that she didn’t choose wisely when it came to men.

Right now her career future was more important than getting intimately involved. If it went wrong between them she could lose this chance to makeover his room and any future financial backing.

And yet … he’d not taken her without care. He’d stopped when she’d asked. He’d considered Jared and spoken of honour. How many men spoke of honour, for goodness’ sake? He was a decent guy. Those rumours had to be
wrong.

Todd was the reason she didn’t trust men’s motives. His dark good looks had hidden an even darker side. The Toad had lied to her about his past and manipulated her feelings for him. A man of deceit and no morals. The opposite of Blake in every way that counted.

But she wouldn’t think about how right and perfect Blake’s body had felt against hers or the taste of his kiss. oh, no, she would
not.
That
road led to certain heartbreak. Because he could be gone at any time.

She picked up her dropped paint samples. She was counting on Blake not telling Jared about the boat’s problems or their agreed partnership until she gave the nod. She’d concentrate on his generous offer, pay for the repairs from the income she made and work her backside off to show she was worthy. To show him, and herself, and then her family that she could be the successful career woman she wanted to be.

First up, she’d impress him with her transformation of his living room. With renewed enthusiasm, she shimmied towards the wall with her paint samples and a swatch of gold-coloured fabrics.

Blake poked his head through the doorway catching her mid-shimmy.

‘Can you be ready to leave in thirty minutes?’ His gaze drifted from her hips to linger on her breasts where her T-shirt still bore the damp circles from his mouth.

A flush crept up her neck. ‘I’ll be ready.’

Her reply finally drew his attention to her face. ‘Great,’ he said, and disappeared again.

Lissa glanced at her tell-all top and jeans. But not in these clothes.

Blake returned to the study, pleased with the ease with which he’d been able to organise the solicitor. Deanna Mayfield was an old school
friend from Surfers who practised law in Mooloolaba. She was twice divorced and had been delighted to hear from him. She’d even juggled appointments to fit them in.

Next, he arranged for a plumber and an electrician to come in the afternoon, then searched the local area for men’s clothing stores on his laptop.

It kept his mind occupied and therefore off Lissa and what had happened in the living room. That had been his intention, except that he could still taste her, could still smell her scent on his clothes.

He’d made her a business offer in one instant and kissed her to kingdom come in the next. Only he hadn’t stopped at a kiss. He’d been so blind-sided it hadn’t registered that she might be a virgin. How many twenty-three-year-old virgins were there these days?

Was she keeping it for Mr Right? Or was it because she hadn’t she found a guy with enough power and vigour to light her fire? He preferred the latter. He was no woman’s Mr Right and he’d already glimpsed the smouldering evidence in her eyes.

He drummed restless fingers on the desk. Trouble with virgins was they attached too much emotion to the sexual act and the last thing he needed was an emotional female who expected more. He had a gut feeling Lissa would be a woman who expected that ‘more’.

She was Jared’s sister. Getting physical with a mate’s sister was one thing, but when said sister was a virgin? No way. No how. Out of bounds.

He needed to remember their agreement and maintain his focus on the goals they’d set and his hands off her body.

Her vivacious, voluptuous,
virginal
body.

His gaze flicked to the Titian-haired reclining nude in a Pre-Raphaelite original painting, titled ‘Chastity’, on the wall and wondered vaguely why his father hadn’t tried to sell it. Had to be worth a quid.

Disturbed by the maidenly beauty and its similarity to a certain redhead, he averted his eyes and glared at the computer screen. Perhaps he and Deanna could have a drink later, catch up on old times.

He thought about the six-foot-tall blonde who’d won the Miss Sunshine Contest at seventeen when he’d been a gangly star-struck sixteen. Maybe he could suggest they … what?

On an oath, he shut down his computer. The thing was … the
mystery
was … he had a churn-in-the-gut feeling that no woman was going to take the edge off his need unless that woman was Lissa. The sooner he had the business plans drawn up and boat repaired, the better off it would—

Lissa’s ear-piercing shriek from out back had him shoving out of his chair and bounding for the door.

Lissa stared in numb disbelief at the empty space where the houseboat had been only moments ago. ‘Oh, my God, oh, my God.’ She’d yelled until her vocal cords had given out and now she couldn’t seem to raise her voice above a murmur. Her legs felt like spaghetti and every vital organ within her body was twisting and churning.

This was a mistake. A dream—a
nightmare.

She heard the back door slide open. Heard a muttered series of harsh four-letter expletives, then Blake’s heavy footsteps sprinting along the path.

The steps slowed, stopped behind her. She didn’t turn around. Her eyes were riveted on the swirling water, a gurgling liquidy sound and the rectangular shape disappearing beneath the surface. ‘No!’

‘Lissa.’ Firm hands gripped her shoulders. ‘It’s going to be okay.’

She watched bubbles stream to the surface as her home sank deeper and blurred and felt herself start to shake uncontrollably.
‘Going to be okay?
Going to be okay? My boat, my home, my whole life. Gone. And you’re telling me it’s
okay?’
Her hands flew to her face. ‘Why didn’t you tell me how bad it was? Why didn’t you
insist
I pack up everything last night?’

She hated being told what to do so
why was she blaming another person for her mistakes?

‘We saved your all-important samples, that’s—’

‘My clothes!’ she shrieked again. ‘I’ve lost all my clothes!’ Then they both stared in silence as a pale amorphous shape drifted up from the murky depths. Two small mounds popped onto the surface like mini desert islands.

‘Well, maybe not all,’ he murmured, and dropped to his knees, leaned down and plucked her buttercup bra out of the water.

‘Oh … shut up! I hate you!’ Vaguely, her mind registered that under normal circumstances the sight of his tanned long fingers on her most intimate of garments would have thrilled her, but right now all she felt was the burn of humiliation.

She snatched it out of his grasp. She couldn’t look at him. Her eyes were stinging and deep inside she was very afraid she was coming apart and was disgusted with herself for that weakness. Why, of all people, did it have to be this particular man witnessing her defeat?

‘Hey. I shouldn’t have said that.’ He turned her in his arms and held on tight. ‘The Lissa I know is strong and resilient, she’ll get through this.’

‘How would you know
how
I am?’ Her presence had barely registered on his personal radar. ‘I was just a kid and you
didn’t
know me.’

‘Ah, but I did know you. You were one very determined, very single-minded kid.’

‘Yeah, right.’ He
meant
stubborn and spoiled. Indulged and irresponsible. Didn’t this prove it?
It had been her duty to look after Jared’s boat and now.

But his reassurance was gruff against her ear when he said, ‘The most important thing is you’re safe.’

Safe? How was she safe when she had nowhere to live? Why hadn’t she packed an overnighter, at least? She’d let him tell her what to do and now … now look at the mess she was in. She fought against him but it was like fighting against a warm rip tide.

‘They’re just things, Lissa. Everything can be replaced.’

‘But they were
my
things,’ she said, a single tear spilling down her cheek. ‘Every stick of furniture, every knick-knack. My mother’s bluebird of happiness brooch. They might mean nothing to anyone else but they meant something to me. I worked my backside off for it all, right down to the last scented candle. And before you ask, no, I don’t have contents insurance.’ Because she’d let it lapse two months ago due to lack of funds.

She felt him draw a deep breath but he didn’t nag her. Instead, he held her against him and muttered soothing noises against her hair.

‘You know something,’ he said a moment later, ‘I could fit all my worldly possessions in the back of a station wagon and I do okay.’

She looked up to see if he was joking. How did a person cram their life into the back of a car? Unbelievable. It wasn’t normal. She let her
forehead fall back onto his chest. ‘You have this house. This
mansion.’

‘True.’

Closing her damp eyes, she gave up the fight and leaned into his musky warmth. And all she could think was if he hadn’t been here, if he hadn’t insisted she sleep in the house despite her vigorous objections, she might be at the bottom of the river now.

He drew back, still holding her upper arms. ‘Guess we won’t need the plumber’s services after all.’

She opened her eyes and saw a dark splotch on his T-shirt where her waterlogged bra had been trapped between them. She lifted her gaze to his and, just for once, allowed herself the comfort of having someone to lean on. ‘What happens now?’

A
T HIS
insistence, Blake made the necessary calls and organised to have the houseboat refloated and towed away. Lissa was grateful to Blake for his cool, calm and sensitive handling of the whole situation. A man to lean on in a crisis. It gave her time to regroup. Most of her artwork was gone. Photos, jewellery, books.

She sat on her bed and looked about her. She also needed time to absorb the fact that until she was making an income, this was her bedroom. She needed to pull herself together and decide that she could still be that independent woman she wanted to be but there was nothing wrong with accepting help now and then.

But did it have to be Blake’s help?

She stared at herself in the full-length mirror on the bedroom wall. The boat disaster had briefly obliterated the excitement of the new business agreement she’d made … and that kiss. Oh, that kiss … and
more.
Her whole body burned
and churned with the memory and she saw its instant effect in her reflection.

She shook it away and concentrated on applying make-up to mask her distress. She needed to forget that momentary indulgence. And to accept Blake’s insistence that she remain in his home.

‘Here?’ She’d glared at Blake through narrowed eyes, fighting it all the way.
Nuh-uh. Not going to happen. Not after that kiss and a half.

‘You have somewhere else in mind?’ He’d waited for a response but she hadn’t had a ready one. Not one of any sort.

Returning to Surfers and facing Jared with her failures was not an option after the regrettably immature way she’d walked out eighteen months ago. And in an hour she’d be signing papers and making Blake her business partner. She had to remain in Mooloolaba. Rental accommodation was high in Mooloolaba.

Sharing with a guy was something she’d sworn she’d never do again. Living with Todd had been the most harrowing time of her life. Not only the physical abuse but the lies and degradation. Made worse because she’d kept it a secret from those who would have helped her. She’d been so naïve, so ashamed, and, for a while, so broken.

‘What are you afraid of, Lissa?’

She’d stared up at Blake and into those beautiful blue eyes. Blake wasn’t Todd—was nothing
like Todd—but she no longer trusted herself when it came to choosing the right kind of man.

‘Nothing. Why would I be afraid? I’m certainly not afraid of you,’ she’d told him when he’d scrutinised her face more closely. As if he knew her secret.
He couldn’t know.
‘Thank you. I accept.’

She’d arranged to meet Blake in the living room before leaving for their rescheduled appointment with the solicitor. In her jeans and faded T-shirt. She groaned inwardly. The T-shirt with the two faintly creased circles on her chest. Now there’d have to be an additional clause with the expenses incurred to replace her belongings.

She descended the stairs at the arranged time. Blake had changed into smart casual clothes and her thoughts scattered like confetti. The white button-through shirt, open at the neck, enhanced his tanned skin and accentuated his broad shoulders and muscular frame, the trousers were slim-fitting, showcasing well-defined thighs and.

She swung her gaze to the wood-panelled wall, embarrassed at being caught checking out his masculine shape, and said the first thing that came to mind. ‘Definitely the deeper turquoise. And a modern painting here that encapsulates the essence of Mooloolaba.’

‘You’re the expert.’

His eyes glinted and she knew that he knew
what she was really thinking about. His hot, toned body against hers.

‘Let’s get the documentation over with first,’ he said. ‘Then we’ll pay a visit to the bank and then you can go shopping.’

What could she say? She needed clothes. ‘I’m. I’ll pay you back. Every cent. You can take it off my fee when the room’s done.’

‘Don’t worry about that now. But I’ve got some matters to attend to back here so I’ll arrange to meet you at this address later.’ He handed her a card and a key. ‘It’s a building I own. It was used as a prestige car showroom but it’s been vacant a while. I was going to sell it, but it might be a good location for an interior design business. Maybe you could take a look, come up with some ideas and tell me what you think. Don’t forget to key in the security code. Panel’s on the right of the door.’

Her spirits lifted a little. ‘Thanks.’ She tucked the card in her bag.

‘What about Jared?’ He paused. ‘I assume you’re in contact while he’s overseas. Shouldn’t you let him know what’s going on?’

Yes, but she had more than enough stress to deal with right now. Besides … ‘I don’t want to spoil his holiday.’

‘He’s your brother.’

She didn’t look at him as she slung her bag over her shoulder but she felt a vague criticism aimed her way and shrugged off the prickly sensation.
What was between her and her brother was none of Blake’s business.

‘I’ll get around to it, okay?’ Tonight. It would be morning in Milan then. She’d make herself comfortable and alone and phone him tonight. Maybe in a few hours she wouldn’t be so likely to dissolve into tears in the retelling of it.

‘What do you want to do about your belongings?’ He sounded as if he was finding his way barefoot around broken glass.

‘Of course I want to save what I can. But it’s probably already ruined with salt and river grime and heaven only knows what else.’ She bit her lip to stifle the sob. It made her want to throw herself into his arms and weep.

And perhaps, she thought, as she moved directly to the door without waiting, that was his intention.

Deanna Mayfield was just the sort of woman Lissa imagined Blake would find attractive. Any man would find attractive, actually. As tall as him, silver-blonde hair, trim figure. Even in her grey pin-striped business suit she exuded a sultry kind of glamour.

If you went for that kind of thing.

‘Blake!’ Her smile was pure toothpaste advertisement. She ushered them into her office. ‘What a pleasant surprise to get your call.’

Ms Mayfield and smartly dressed Blake looked like an ideal couple as they reminisced
about a past Lissa had no part in. Had they ever been lovers? She couldn’t help thinking of the bad-boy reputation. Yep, she thought, Ms Mayfield would definitely go for bad boys.

Even when they eventually got down to business it was there. That … something. While Lissa sat within arm’s reach feeling out of the loop, uninvolved and insignificant.

‘We’ll need a signature here.’ Leaning over the desk, Deanna flicked her hair and indicated with a passion-purple fingertip, then passed Blake her pen.

Lissa’s lip curled, then she pressed a hand to the tender spot just beneath her breastbone while Blake signed and passed the pen back. With a smile. The knot was hunger, not jealousy. Good heavens, she couldn’t begin to imagine how many women Blake would have been with over the years, no doubt all as glamorous as Miss Sunshine here.

Then Deanna smiled at Lissa as if suddenly remembering she was there and handed her the pen. ‘Melissa. Your turn, sweetie.’

Sweetie.
Condescending cow. Lissa stretched her lips into a smile over her clenched teeth as she took the pen and signed.

Blake dropped her at the Sunshine Plaza with her new personal debit card. The arrangement was that she should catch a cab to the address on
the card he’d given her when she was done and they’d meet at five-thirty.

She headed into the mall to buy her blues away. She refused to get carried away however, knowing she needed to repay whatever she bought at a future date. Sticking to basics, she purchased underwear, toiletries, casual wear, a couple of business suits and skirts and a cream jacket. and, of course, the obligatory little short black dress.

She couldn’t resist a tiny bottle of her favourite perfume and a couple of CDs—for therapeutic reasons. At an art shop she bought a new sketch pad, charcoals and pencils so that if she arrived at the premises before Blake she could keep busy. If she was busy she wouldn’t think about the boat.

Fighting the dull pain that had been throbbing away at the back of his skull for the past couple of hours, Blake walked towards the shop. Standing across the road, he watched the lowering sun paint the upper half of the unique building a burnt orange. When he’d bought it, he’d been impressed right off with its central location—near other businesses but not overcrowded—and the interesting canted windows out front. Dodging a steady stream of slow-moving traffic, he let himself in with a takeaway meal, drinks and cutlery in a cardboard box.

The empty interior still blew him away.
A gleaming expanse of polished floorboards flowed like a golden lake to cream walls on all sides. But the feature that really sold it for him was the main source of illumination. Two metal wheel-like structures a good couple of metres in diameter studded with down-lights and suspended at an oblique angle to each other and to the floor.

The building had a vaulted wooden ceiling and odd-shaped windows. Their topaz and sapphire glass threw out a rich palette of colours, glinting on the brass rail of the spiral staircase to one side, which led to a mezzanine level, which in turn floated above the rear third of the cavernous space.

It might have reminded him of a church except for the sound of a CD player crackling away with the unmistakeable voice of Robbie Williams from somewhere up those stairs.

With his box under one arm, he crossed the floor, appreciating the warm ambience. What better venue to launch an interior design business? With his mother’s contacts and Lissa’s obvious expertise, they couldn’t lose.

But when he reached the top of the staircase he came to a silent halt.

Lissa was dancing, bare feet moving lightly in time with the song. A pad of some description lay open on the floor beside her. She’d been sketching. something. Didn’t matter—he didn’t
even cast his eyes in the pad’s direction. It was the woman he wanted to feast his eyes on.

The day’s last vermilion beams lasered through the only upstairs window high above them, turning her magnificent crown of hair to flame, painting her limbs gold and leaving the shadowed spaces a dusky purple. He stood, transfixed in the stairwell’s dimness. Held his breath, though he doubted he had any breath left in him to hold.

She’d changed into a loose white top that dipped low at the front. Beneath it she wore short white shorts leaving her legs bare.

Those feet moved fast and light, as if she were dancing on air, but her arms moved above her in a graceful arc, her gaze wholly focused at some point in the middle distance, her lips turned up slightly at the corners as if delighting in the moment.

It was like watching an angel.

Would she wear that same expression if he were lying beneath her? Would she make love with that wholly focused gaze and delight?

He shook his head to clear the lusty thoughts. Angels were supposed to be pure asexual beings, weren’t they? And as far as he knew, they didn’t make love.
Virginal.
But he could have watched for an eternity, absorbed in the beauty of the moment—and her—but she turned and saw him and that golden moment was gone.

For a breathless heartbeat she watched him
with those wide clear eyes. Then she blinked as if coming out of a trance and slowly lowered her arms. Perspiration dewed her skin and her breathing was elevated, drawing his attention to her breasts as they rose and fell. He couldn’t look away.

‘Hi.’ He kept his voice casual, breaking the sudden tension.

She lifted a self-conscious shoulder and colour rose up her neck. ‘Hi.’ Bending so that her hair curtained her face, she flipped the pad shut, creating a draught across the floor, and he caught the fragrance of some exotic perfume she’d not been wearing earlier today. It reminded him of midnight madness on a moonlit beach.

‘I found an old CD player someone left behind.’ She moved to it, squatted down and lowered the volume. ‘Have you been standing there long?’

‘Not long.’ Not long enough. Too long.

‘Dancing’s my stress reliever of choice. And chocolate, of course.’ She helped herself to a four-square row from the half-eaten block beside the player. ‘I guess I got carried away.’

‘You don’t share?’

‘Sure, sorry.’ She grabbed the bar, held it out. ‘Help yourself.’

‘Not the chocolate.’ He gestured towards the pad. ‘Your art or whatever you were sketching there.’

‘Ideas for your living room. But you don’t get to see them until I’m done.’

With the tip of her tongue, she licked a small fleck of chocolate from the corner of her mouth. He watched her, wishing he could’ve been the one to sample that sweet taste on her mouth. Then she wiped the spot with a finger for good measure and said, ‘What have you got there?’

He’d forgotten all about the box. He withdrew the aromatic bag, held it up. ‘I thought you might be hungry but I see you’re already well supplied.’

She shook her head. ‘Chocolate doesn’t count. I’m starving. And that, whatever it is, smells delicious. Let me guess.’ Closing her eyes, she inhaled slowly. ‘Mmm … Indian.’

‘Hope you like butter chicken. It’s full of calories and comes with jasmine rice and assorted delights.’

‘Ooh, yes. Hand it over.’

She reached for it but he lifted it higher. ‘Not quite yet.’

She did the pout, her hands on her hips, but a glimmer of a smile teased the edges of her mouth. ‘Hey, that’s just mean.’

‘First, answer a question for me. Earlier today you said you hated me. Is that still true?’

‘I … No.’ The tiny smile vanished and she frowned. ‘Did I say that? I don’t remember saying that. Of course I don’t hate you.’

‘Good. I don’t hate you either.’

‘Even though I’ve been such an idiot?’

‘You’re n—’

‘But I am. I hold myself responsible for the mess I’m in and … and the trouble I’ve caused you.’

‘And now we’ll move on.’ He mentally kicked himself for bringing up this morning’s disaster and wiping away her smile just because he wanted some sort of petty reassurance. What the hell was wrong with him?

‘That’s a relief, since we just signed an agreement to work together, but can we have the rest of this conversation
after
we’ve eaten?’