There's Something About a Rebel- (7 page)

He moved closer to better catch her scent. ‘I’ve been thinking about you.’

‘You mean that kiss.’ She shrugged and turned away, refusing to play his game of grab-the-bag, but he saw her fingers tremble slightly as she popped the last piece of chocolate in her mouth.

‘Ah … that kiss,’ he said, slowly, and watched her cheeks pinken. ‘Since you’ve brought it up …’

‘I
didn’t,
you
did.’ She dropped to her knees and busied those small hands putting her art purchases in a pile. ‘I’ve had more important matters on my mind, actually.’

‘So have I.’ He set the food and the box holding the rest of the stuff on the floor, then shook out a rug he’d found in the boot of the rental and spread it out. ‘Fact is, you’re right in there with all the other stuff that’s going on.’

She set the containers out on the rug and began removing the lids. ‘I’m sorry if that bothers you.’

It did. More than she could possibly know. He watched the way her auburn hair swung down in an arc, hiding her face from view. ‘I’ll manage.’

‘Of course you will, you’re very capable. What is it you do again?’

Now
her eyes flicked up to his. They were full of questions he wasn’t going to answer. Not to anybody. The headache burgeoning behind his eyes intensified. ‘I was a clearance diver. Like I told you, I’ve resigned from the navy.’
End of story.

She blinked. ‘O-kay …’ When he didn’t elaborate she glanced at the window. ‘It’s going to be dark soon. The lighting up here doesn’t seem to be working.’

He welcomed the encroaching night and a change of topic. He wasn’t going to spill his guts to Lissa Sanderson. Knowing her family background as she did, she’d be the kind of woman who’d want to try to nourish his soul.

If he still had a soul, that was.

‘Lucky I brought these, then,’ he said, pulling out a box of tea lights. He set half a dozen along the balustrade.

‘You think of everything, don’t you?’ she murmured.

‘It’s my practical streak.’ He shot her a quick glance as he lit them. ‘I wasn’t sure if the power
company would make it here to switch on the electricity in time.’

He lowered himself to a corner of the rug on the other side of the feast and passed her some plastic cutlery and a plate from the box. She piled up her plate as if she hadn’t eaten a square meal in a week.

‘So, what do you think of the building?’ He spooned some rice onto his plate.

‘It’s gorgeous,’ she said around a mouthful of chicken. ‘Absolutely gorgeous. Just what we need.’

He popped the cork on the champagne bottle, poured it. ‘Have you had a chance to decide how you want to set it up?’

‘Yes. I’ll take you downstairs and show you after.’

He handed her a foaming glass, raised his own. ‘A toast to our new partnership.’

‘To success.’ She clinked her glass to his.

To us
, Lissa wanted to say. But despite the candles’ soft glow caressing his face with bronze fingers and casting shadows in the violet spaces between them and the love song’s words on the tinny player, this wasn’t supposed to be a romantic dinner.

And she’d had to go and mention that kiss.

Obviously he’d not been thinking about it at all. Just because he’d said he’d been thinking about her, didn’t mean he’d been thinking about her in any
romantic
sense. He probably had
loads of women who’d been waiting ten years just for his call. Naturally he’d think about her, and it wouldn’t be good.

She’d just managed to lose all her belongings and the boat he called his. He’d inherited a house-mate he hadn’t asked for. And that wasn’t all. He’d had no intention of being involved in a business, let alone an interior design one. He’d rather have his luxury sail boat. Was it any wonder he’d been thinking about her?

‘Wine not to your taste?’

His voice dragged her back to the present and their surroundings. ‘Yes, it’s lovely. Thank you.’ And so it should be, at the price she knew it sold for. French, too, always her favourite. She took a sip and said, ‘So, the navy must pay you
very
well.’

He shrugged. ‘I do okay.’

‘Just okay?’ Clearly he didn’t want to talk about any aspect of his working life—his
previous
working life—or how they happened to be drinking one of the most expensive celebratory champagnes available.

‘I live in military accommodation when I’m not at sea. I’ve never had a mortgage so I’ve put my money into buying property. This building for example.’ He forked up a morsel of meat, but didn’t put it in his mouth. ‘If you’re wondering whether I am, in fact, a secret international drug lord, maybe I should tell you my mother also left me a sizeable inheritance.’ His expression
betrayed nothing of his emotions regarding the loss of his mother.

Lissa remembered the car accident that had claimed Rochelle Everett’s life and brought Blake home that last time. She’d been a popular social celebrity and famous for her charitable work from Surfers all the way up to the Sunshine Coast.

‘I was sorry to hear about your mother, Blake. She did so much good for the community.’

He studied the meat on his fork. ‘Can’t deny that.’ Then he jammed it in his mouth, chewed a moment and washed it down with a long, slow swallow of champagne.

Lissa felt the wall go up so hard, so fast, it made her head spin. Impenetrable. Insurmountable. What made a man so unwilling to talk about himself? Every aspect, every topic she broached, every time she tried to get him to open up, he stopped her cold. And it wasn’t only pain she saw in his eyes, there was bitterness too.

She’d never known her mother, who’d died when Lissa was born. She’d also discovered a few years ago that she was the result of her mother’s affair with an itinerant artist. The man she’d known as her father was dead and good riddance. But she couldn’t begin to imagine the pain of losing Jared, who’d been both a mother and father to her in her formative years, or Crystal, her older sister.

But Blake’s mother had been a
good
person, a
caring person who’d worked tirelessly for charity and the community. What was it with him?

So she spent the rest of the meal covering easy neutral and safe topics, like her family. She told him how Jared had met Sophie when she’d emailed her not-so-secret diary to him on her first day as his PA and he laughed the bubbles off the top of his champagne. Then she regaled him with entertaining stories about her nieces and nephews.

He opened up enough to reminisce about his surfing days with her brother. She didn’t ask him about his work or what he intended doing now or his family again.

When they’d finished the meal, Lissa switched off the CD player, stacked the plates and Blake packed everything back, standing the half-finished bubbly in one corner of the carton.

Finally out of safe conversational topics, Lissa waited for Blake to speak or fill the void with … anything. He looked at her for a long, hushed, tension-packed moment, his eyes glinting in the candle’s seductive glow.

Anticipation swarmed through her body, her pulse picked up and her breathing quickened. She swore she could see the sexual sparks dancing between them on the candle-light.

But Blake didn’t kiss her. He wasn’t seduced or persuaded by those sparks. Instead, he rose, walked the couple of steps to the balustrade and blew out the candles, leaving only the light filtering
up from downstairs. Back-lit, he was all stern lines and sharp angles and shadows.
Who
are you really, Blake Everett? What’s made you this way?

Then he bent down, picked up his box and said, ‘I think it’s about time you filled me in on your plans for this place.’

L
EAVING
Lissa to follow, Blake blew out a strangled breath as he descended the stairs. A beautiful woman, a
willing
woman, champagne and candles. He could have had her. Right there on the floor, he could have given into the temptation that had kept him hard as granite all evening and most of the day.

He could have stripped away her clothes and watched her body bloom beneath his hands. He could have slid inside her, watched her eyes darken in surprise then pleasure. And he was walking away.

He shook his head. Some other man would have to introduce Lissa to the joys of sex because she was strictly out of bounds to him. And the pain in his skull was intensifying by the minute. Strobes of light impeded his vision, nausea rose in ever-increasing waves. The alcohol hadn’t helped. He shoved the discomfort away.
Never allow another to witness your vulnerabilities.
He’d lived by that personal mantra all his life and he wasn’t changing now.

On his arrival earlier, he’d had the unnerving feeling she was looking right into him when she’d caught him watching her at the top of the stairs. He hadn’t enjoyed the sensation one bit.

Nor had he intended a seduction scene as such. One always celebrated a new venture with champagne. And the candles. He really
had
expected the power to be off.

Beneath the twin circles of light, he slowed to allow her to catch up. The empty building echoed with the sound of footsteps on wood as they crossed the polished boards.

A big hollow space, waiting to be filled. Kind of like where he was in his life right now. A place full of endless possibilities. He stared past the lights’ glare to the darkened ceiling. Darkness into light.

He swiped a frustrated hand over his hair. Today had been one hell of a day and he wasn’t going to end it by making an even bigger mistake with Lissa. A mistake that could cost them this partnership, and he knew she couldn’t afford for that to happen.

She walked up and stood beside him, her shoulder brushing his arm, and said, ‘Right, where shall we start …?’

He liked her ideas, suggested a few of his own. Her vision for the premises was well thought through considering she’d seen it for
the first time this afternoon, the energy running through her commentary boundless. She pointed out a proposed office area, another space where clients could wait in comfort and browse catalogues. Areas for displays of soft furnishings and colour swatches, wallpaper, shelves to display interesting and unusual glassware or pottery. Another where clients could play with mock-up designs on touch-screen computers.

Eventually Lissa had said all there was to say. She looked to Blake for his response to her suggestion that she hang some of her own artwork on the walls. She’d saved a couple of her favourite pieces from a watery grave and she could create more.

He only nodded and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

‘If it’s all right with you, I could set up at home in one of the spare rooms so it doesn’t interfere with anything you might want to do,’ she said.

‘No problem. I don’t have any plans for entertaining. Besides, I’ve never watched an artist at work.’

The thought of him watching unsettled her and she rubbed her arms in the cool swirl of air. ‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’ A half-laugh trickled out. ‘I’ve never worked with an audience.’

But when she looked at him her smile faded. His eyes. Haunting, hurting. Hungry. A well of conflicting emotions churned like a choppy sea
behind that carefully neutral stare. A stare that defied anyone to try and find a way through.

She wanted to see the pain gone. She wanted to be the one to make it go. Right now she didn’t care that she’d warned herself to keep away, that the business came first, that she didn’t want her heart broken. She rested her hands on his crossed forearms and looked up at him.

She wasn’t going to let their difference in height intimidate her. Rising on tiptoe, she reached behind his head and pulled it down towards her, keeping her hands slow and light, craving his taste again.

She felt his tightly crossed arms loosen, his body give as he leaned closer. So close. The scent of his skin surrounded her, his quickened breathing feathered over her mouth.

And then his lips brushed hers and her pulse went wild. How long had it been since she’d been brave enough to invite any kind of sexual contact, let alone initiate it? She crept her fingers between his forearms so that she could open them wide and fit herself against that broad hard chest—

He muttered something against her mouth that sounded like something a sailor would say. She felt the stiffness in his neck, resisting her, pulling back. Pulling away.

He uncrossed his arms all the way. Not to wrap them around her but to let them hang at
his sides, leaving her own hands to drift down, useless.

‘Lissa.’ He looked down at her, the heat she’d felt emanating from him banished somewhere behind that shuttered gaze. ‘I phoned Jared this afternoon.’

Pardon?
‘You phoned Jared?’ It took her a moment to gather her wits, pull her scattered self together and absorb what he’d said. Another before the feeling of betrayal slid cold and slick between her ribs. What had happened to keeping it between them?
Our little secret.

‘You made an agreement with me and you broke it.’ The intoxicating moment fled and she clenched her fists against her stomach to stop the feeling of nausea welling up there. ‘What did you do—scroll through my address book behind my back?’

‘I looked up Crystal and Ian’s phone number. Ian remembered who I was and gave it to me.

I—’

‘No.’ She couldn’t look at him. ‘You had no right.’

‘Wrong. It was the responsible thing to do. The only thing to do.’

‘No.’ She jabbed a finger at her chest. ‘What I tell Jared is
my
business.’

‘What, you’d have him drop by on his way home from vacation and find no boat? No Lissa? No way of knowing where you were?’

She shook her head. ‘He’d never drop in without phoning ahead. It’s called
communication
.’

‘You weren’t doing a very good job of communicating with him, then, were you?’

‘What about you? Did you
communicate
with me about this first?’

‘You were shopping.’

She lifted her head and glared at him. ‘So?’

‘I didn’t want to have this conversation with you over the phone.’

‘I told you I was going to let him know.’

‘When? He loves you and you left him out of the loop.’

She knew, and it stopped her in her tracks. Worse, it had taken Blake to point it out. ‘That still doesn’t give you the right to go over my head or mess with my affairs.’

What exactly had he told Jared? Had the two of them discussed her as if she didn’t have a voice—or a brain? It made her want to slap something. Or someone.

‘So you had a chat about Lissa’s lapsed insurance too, then? The boat’s state of disrepair?
Did you tell him you own it?
’

She stopped because she’d run out of breath. He wasn’t attempting to deny her accusations. He was waiting for her to finish her little tirade. Calmly. Rationally. Only a tic in his jaw betrayed him.

‘The boat’s gone,’ he said coolly. ‘I’ve decided there’s no point telling him my father sold
it twice over. I assume Jared has insurance to cover it. He can make his own decisions about whether or not to replace it.’

Oh. ‘That’s very—’

‘I told him what happened,’ he continued, in the same unhurried voice. ‘And that you were safe and unharmed and with me.’

With me.
Why did those words claw so at her belly? She tightened her stomach muscles against the odd sensation and said, ‘Nothing about our business arrangement?’

One eyebrow rose. ‘You and I have an agreement.’

She nodded. She felt small.
Really
small. She’d jumped in feet first without thinking, without seeking clarification.

He went on, ‘But it doesn’t mean you keep him in the dark about it for much longer.’

What about that kiss? Did he intend not keeping him in the dark about that too? Oh, she did
so
not want to think about him talking guy talk with Jared about that. She comforted herself with the knowledge that they were mates, she was Jared’s sister and Blake wasn’t likely to spill that piece of information to her brother. Still, guys were guys.

And to think she’d been tempted to kiss him again.
Only to make him feel better.

And he’d wanted to kiss her, it had been as obvious as the horn on a rhinoceros. And then at the last second he’d suddenly remembered he’d
phoned Jared? He’d have known she’d react to that. It was almost as if he’d been looking for a reason, any reason at all, not to give in to that sexual hum between them.

She rubbed her arms to ward off a sudden chill. She should be relieved he’d put a stop to it. After all, she’d told him only hours ago that they were moving too fast.

‘Okay.’ She worked hard to keep her voice reasonable when what she wanted to do was yell why did he have to be so remote? As if he’d flicked a damn switch. ‘But I wish you’d told me before you rushed into it. I’d intended phoning him this evening.’

‘You still can.’ His disbelieving look negated the barely there nod, making her feel like a kid again, and then he was walking away, cutting their conversation short with, ‘It’s late. Where’s your gear?’

They didn’t speak as they piled everything into his rented SUV. On the short drive home she pressed her lips together tight to stop the words she wanted to say spilling out: Frustratingly Infuriatingly Complicated Gorgeous Man.

When he pulled into the kerb outside the house, she glared straight ahead. ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ she murmured. ‘I think I hate you after all.’

‘I’ll try to take it in my stride.’

They unloaded the car, both avoiding the other. When it was done, he muttered something
about checking his emails and she saw him heading to a room off the living area that looked like a study. Or a cave. And he was damn well going to shut himself in there.

‘Hang on.’

When he didn’t stop, she caught up, planted herself in front of him, then waited until he looked down and at least acknowledged her. ‘If you don’t want to kiss me, you don’t need to fake some spur-of-the-moment excuse to push me away. I’m a big girl these days, I can cope.’

He stood unmoving for a few unsteady heartbeats. ‘Be very careful what you say to me right now, Lissa.’ His husky warning sounded more like a promise than a threat.

But his non-committal expression just plain got to her. Did he have to be so … lone wolf? It made her want to push and prod until she got a reaction. Any reaction. She wanted to understand the demons she saw in his eyes in an unguarded moment. She wanted to understand why.

She pushed harder. ‘I can handle rejection, I can handle disappointments. I can handle y …’ She trailed off at his unforgiving stare, realising she’d let her mouth run roughshod over her thoughts, and took a step back, away from the intensity battering her.

His nostrils flared, his jaw clenched and something deeper than indigo flickered hotly in the depths of his eyes. He stepped forward, crowding in on her. Now she saw gold flecks
among the blue in his gaze. Alive, like a flame. Raw and hot and primitive. For a brief moment he looked like a stranger—or that dangerous lone wolf—and instinctively she took another step back.

‘You think you can handle me?’ His hands shot out and his fingers curled around her upper arms, his thighs bumping hers as he walked her backwards with him until her spine came up against the wall. His unrelenting gaze didn’t waver from hers.

He dragged her against him and kissed her. Hard. No time to react as his body flexed against hers, unyielding and unforgiving while his hands fisted tightly in her hair.

Then, before she knew it, he lifted his head to mutter against her shocked lips, ‘You’re not ready for what I’d like to do to you.’

The images his harsh words invoked sent a thrill pulsing through her. It throbbed low and heavy between her legs.

He untangled his hands from her hair and backed off. Without the support of his body, she slumped against the wall, dazed and dizzy and not a little delirious.

She knew her eyes were too wide, her breath too choppy, her limbs too trembly. She’d blown it, she could tell, and she saw a muscle twitch in his left jaw, felt him grow distant as he watched her through half-lidded eyes.

‘And what would that be, that you’d like to do that I’m not ready for?’

His Adam’s apple bobbed, his hands fisted at his sides and she swore the air vibrated with shared images. Blake pushing her back against the wall, tearing away her clothes with impatient fingers until she stood naked and trembling with need. Using his hands and mouth and tongue to bring pleasure to every square centimetre of quivering flesh, then ploughing into her where she stood.

Dull colour sprinted high along his cheekbones as if he’d been having the same thought. ‘That’d be a mistake.’

She licked lips gone dry. ‘How do you know it would?’

He shook his head but she could see she’d put a dent in that composure. ‘I suggest you go upstairs and get some sleep.’ Turning on his heel, he walked away.

‘The night is young,’ she called to his retreating back with a brightness she didn’t feel. She watched him walk to his cave, his shoulders tense, his strides long and swift. ‘I think I’ll go to that party after all.’ She said it loud enough for him to hear as he reached the door. He hesitated before closing it behind him with a firm click.

She sighed, a weird cocktail of frustration and satisfaction simmering through her. She’d had no
intention of going anywhere but he didn’t need to know that.

Forget the way he’d stalked off, she’d got to him. Rattled his cage. Woken the primitive man beneath the civilised exterior. A quiver of excitement jagged down her spine. Was she really ready for that?

But she wasn’t the only one with something to fear, something to hide. And what would stop a man like Blake from acting on their obvious attraction?

His own code of honour. His integrity. She’d seen it in action. More than once. Her fingers tightened into fists. Damn the gossip-mongers. He didn’t deserve to be talked about that way.