There's Something About a Rebel- (9 page)

‘Very well.’ Her eyes glowed with enthusiasm. ‘She’s going with a fairy-tale theme. Pastel colours. I saw this gorgeous little pumpkin-shaped cot today. I can’t wait to get started.’

‘If you want to postpone this room—’

‘I can do both. You told me so and it’s good practice. I’ve already organised the painters here for next week and the furniture’s been ordered.’

For the first time since he’d come back he took a good look at the room, visions of the way it used to look swimming before his eyes. ‘I can’t
wait to see this transformed. It always reminds me of …’

She looked up. ‘What?’ she asked softly.

‘Dad used to have his poker nights in here. Four nights a week. I remember the first night I came to live with him. I was fourteen. Mum had gone overseas so I was sent to Dad’s.’ He leaned his head back against the wall, the bad old memories coming thick and fast. ‘Dad had forgotten to pick me up at the bus so I walked. With my luggage.’ He closed his eyes, felt the old tension grab at the base of his skull.

‘Go on,’ she urged. Her voice was gentle. Oddly calming, like the trickle of water over a moss-covered rock. So easy to let it flow over him.

‘The place was a garbage tip. Beer bottles, pizza boxes, spilled cigarette ash, you name it. I thought after his buddies left he’d clean it up, but no. It was still there a week later.

‘The rest of the house was just as bad. In the end I couldn’t stand it so I asked if I could live on the houseboat. He was more than happy with the arrangement. I taught myself to cook. At least I could study in peace …’

A long silence followed. ‘I never knew my father,’ Lissa said into the hiatus.

He opened his eyes. ‘What?’

‘That man you knew wasn’t my father. My biological father was just passing through town one summer. I must have looked liked him because
Dad hated me. I was a reminder of my mother’s infidelity.’

She smiled suddenly. ‘This sounds like True Confession time.’

He smiled back, feeling as if a load had been lifted off his shoulders. Feeling something like companionship. He’d never told anyone his troubles. Somehow Lissa had got him to talk. To open up. And it felt good. Freeing. Connected. ‘How about we go eat some pizza? I saw a live band setting up in an outdoor café on the esplanade. Oh, wait up.’ He picked up the boxes, reached over and set them in front of her. ‘This first.’

Lissa reached for the larger one. ‘What is it?’ When he didn’t answer, she opened the flaps. Her jewellery box sat on the top. ‘Oh …’ Eyes filling, she pulled it out and opened it. It was still damp but she lifted out the bluebird brooch. ‘This was Mum’s. You rescued my things.’ She could barely see him through the tears.

‘I had the boat moved yesterday while you were at the shop. I didn’t get everything, most of it was too far gone, but the stuff in the box was salvageable. And what I thought you might like.’

She ran her hands over a white porcelain bowl with blue dolphins around the edge. It had been a gift from Crystal when she’d moved here. He’d thought enough to sort through her things. ‘Thank you. So much.’

She opened the other box. It was full of new
lingerie. All different colours. Sexy as sin. She sifted through the silky bras and panties, her cheeks blooming with heat. She found two nightgowns. A teal blue and a deep gold.

‘I noticed you didn’t buy enough stuff yesterday,’ he said, his voice oddly gruff.

The heat intensified. ‘How did you know my size?’

‘I checked the ones you bought. If you’ll forgive me for looking.’

‘Oh, yes … and they’re beautiful.’ She bit her lip. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘Your smile’s enough.’ He reached out a hand, lifted her chin up. ‘You should smile more often—with those eyes, like you’re doing now.’ For a fleeting moment his gaze turned almost reverent.

And she felt her heart melt.

Then he pushed up, as if uncomfortable with the moment. ‘Let’s go eat.’

F
OR
this evening, at least, it was enough to simply share pizza and enjoy each other’s company while the waves thumped on the beach. To see the ocean change from aqua to indigo to black and to watch Blake finally relax as they listened to the jazz quartet.

It gave Lissa time to think about what Blake had told her about his father. No wonder he was obsessed with order and tidiness. She resolved to make more of an effort while she was staying in his house.

When the band packed up, they drove home and went their separate ways to bed. The ever-present hum between them was still there, but also a feeling that barriers had been lowered a little. As if a bridge had been crossed.

Lissa spent the following day working on the living room and plans for Gilda’s nursery. Blake offered to be at the shop in the morning to receive the office supplies she’d ordered. He refused
her suggestion to accompany her shopping in the afternoon and went surfing instead.

The last item on her list was what to wear to Gilda’s party.

He should have insisted on going shopping with her, Blake decided that evening as he stood at the bottom of the staircase looking up.

He resisted the urge to loosen the gold bow tie that threatened to strangle him as he stared at the woman descending the stairs.

No way he’d have agreed to the skinny tube of shimmering gold lamé and its row upon row of bright coins that jingled and winked in the light as she moved. What there was of it. Her ‘find’ was strapless and covered precious little of those sun-kissed thighs that he’d thought about constantly since that first night on the houseboat.

His brow wrinkled. Except now she was coming closer he could see that those thighs seemed to be dusted with something like … gold dust. She’d threaded gold ribbons through her hair and piled it on top of her head and he noticed her shoulders gleamed with the same fine gold glitter as her thighs. Strappy gold stilettos completed the look.

An uncomfortable heat burst into flame below the surface of his skin and spread all over his body like a rash. How was he going to get through the evening without thinking about what other priceless treasures she had hidden beneath
that slinky scrap of fabric that looked as if she’d simply wound it around her? He was going to spend the whole night wondering if it came off as easily.

‘What do you think?’ she said, reaching the bottom of the stairs.

‘It’s … certainly eye-catching.’ Not to mention snagging on a few other sensitive body parts.

‘That’s the idea.’ She shimmied like a belly-dancer and the whole thing glittered and jingled. ‘Not bad for a few moments’ work and a couple of quick threads, huh?’

Quick threads?
He swallowed. It was held together with a few threads? ‘You. constructed it yourself?’

‘I’m not wasting money when I don’t have to. I found it in an off-cut bin at a belly-dance studio.’ She held up a hand and thin gold bangles danced along her arm. ‘No, don’t ask how it holds together. And no, it’s not going to unravel. At least I hope not.’

By God, so did he.

‘But just in case …’ She flicked at a string of tiny gold safety pins tucked discreetly into the top.

Music, voices and a tinkle of feminine laughter drifted from next door as she reached down to adjust a strap on her sandal then straightened. ‘Still, I hardly think I’ll be noticed among the Beautiful People.’

Blake gave his head a mental shake. It was she
who was beautiful, and, going on his memory of these charity dos, the majority of party-goers were generally over fifty. She was going to give some old geezer a heart attack.

If he wasn’t careful she was going to give
him
a heart attack.

‘Nice look.’ Her gaze slid over his dark suit rather too slowly for his comfort. ‘Do you get a lot of wear out of that attire in the navy? Lots of military functions to attend, admirals to salute? Wives and daughters to charm?’

He didn’t miss the glimmer of dark in those clear eyes at her pointed mention of the last.

‘But of course,’ she ran on before he could get a word in. She shook her head and a single auburn curl beside her ear bobbled. ‘You’d wear one of those gorgeous naval dress uniforms, wouldn’t you? All blinding white with gold buttons.’ Her gaze clouded momentarily as if she saw him dressed so.

And if they didn’t get going, he was going to have to reach out and smooth that curl behind her ear … and then … his stomach tightened. they’d be in a world of trouble. He turned away, towards the door. ‘Shall we go?’

Lissa tried not to look impressed but Gilda and Stefan’s magnificent mansion had been transformed into a Grecian paradise. In the balmy air, multicoloured lanterns hung overhead and reflected like fireworks in the sapphire pool while
guests wearing the latest in gold designer fashion feasted on a multitude of delicacies and drank champagne from sparkling crystal glasses.

The patio doors had been flung open and, inside, tall orchid spikes speared from gilt-edged vases set on ornate polished mahogany or marble pedestals, their exotic scents mingling with expensive French perfume. Somewhere a blues singer accompanied a clarinet, crooning come-hither World War Two songs.

She didn’t have time to absorb it all because as soon as they arrived they were handed drinks and Lissa was whisked away by her hostess to meet a trio of women who’d known Blake’s mother, wealthy middle-aged matrons dripping with diamonds. And gold. It was like being in the house of Midas.

Blake was still watching her as she cast him a backward glance. He raised his glass.
Enjoy the evening,
he seemed to say.
I intend to.
From the corner of her eye she saw why: tall, blonde and busty heading his way.

So there was Lissa, hearing all about Muriel someone’s latest fashion disaster while waiting for a lull in the conversation so she could get a word in about her business
—their
business—while he indulged in … whatever it was he was doing behind her back.

‘Oh, and did you hear that the Bakers from Surfers heard Rochelle’s son was coming and cancelled at the last minute?’

Lissa’s ears pricked up.

But at sharp glances from her friends, the woman who’d delivered the news found a sudden interest in the bottom of her crystal flute. ‘Oops. Sorry.’

The words, obviously aimed Lissa’s way and tossed out with malicious amusement, stunned her. Then filled her with anger. A red-hot ball in her chest. She felt it build and build until she felt as if she might explode.

This was Blake they were maligning. Who’d risked his life for fourteen years and suffered God only knew what horrors to keep their country safe. A man she’d learned was much more than she’d ever given him credit for. Once upon a time she’d listened to the rumours too. She didn’t know the circumstances with Janine. She didn’t need to—she knew Blake.

And she’d trust him with her life.

The sudden realisation stunned her anew. She’d never thought it possible to feel that way about a man again. Armed with that knowledge, she took a sip from her glass before seizing the opportunity in the lull to ask, ‘Are you talking about Janine?’

There was a startled ‘Was she a friend of yours?’

‘No.’ She looked straight into the other woman’s eyes. ‘But Blake is.’

More glance-swapping. Frowns exchanged. A conspiracy of silence. Awkward moment.

‘I hate innuendoes and gossip, don’t you?’ She tilted her champagne flute towards the women, looking at each one in turn. ‘Especially when we all know it’s based on lies and hearsay and spread by ignorance.’

For a few tense seconds there wasn’t a murmur. Not so much as a flicker of movement from any of them. It was as if they’d been turned to stone. Or solid gold.

Then the oldest of the three smiled slowly. ‘Well said, my dear. I like a girl who’s not afraid to stand up for herself.’ Looking Lissa up and down, she nodded approvingly. ‘My name’s Jocelyn. Rochelle Everett was one of my closest friends. So tell us how you met Blake and then we’d love to hear all about your new business.’ She turned to the others. ‘Wouldn’t we, ladies?’

Lissa mingled with the crowd, feeling extraordinarily satisfied. Jocelyn had given her a business card and told her to make an appointment to look at renovating her kitchen. She made two other appointments with potential clients over the next hour.

Finally, excusing herself from the airless room, she made her way outside to the patio and the younger set. A couple of women in gold bikinis were splashing about in the pool and laughing.

And like any other unattached male, where else would Blake be but watching on from the
decking? Tossing their big plastic ball back to them with a grin?

The pain that twisted beneath her ribcage was nothing to do with the way they were deliberately throwing it in his direction, nor the fact that he was obviously enjoying the attention. It was just the way she’d tied the length of fabric too tight beneath her breasts.

He must have felt her glare because he looked up and their eyes met over the cavorting mermaids. He’d removed his jacket and his white shirt clung to his body like a second skin, making his skin appear even more bronzed. She refused to notice.
Fun for some.
She was sweating contacts and appointments while he was sweating … bimbos.

Turning away, she headed for the nearest waiter.

What?
Blake mouthed, watching her. Too late. She was already stalking off, disappearing among the crowd, her undulating gold-wrapped hips a magnificent memory.

He rolled shoulders suddenly gone tense. He’d kept out of the way to give Lissa a chance to do her thing. He knew it was important to her that she make a success of this on her own. She wanted independence. He was giving it to her.

Though he had to admit he had no inclination to schmooze with his mother’s cronies unless they found him. To his vexation, a few of them had. But he’d played nice. For Lissa’s sake.

And all he’d got was a glare for his trouble.

Frowning, he skirted the pool in pursuit. What had he done to tick her off?

He caught sight of her near one of the glittering supper tables, her expression animated as she spoke to an elderly woman with lavender hair, and found himself stalling. To watch her, simply watch her.

The grown-up Lissa wasn’t what he’d expected. And different from the other women he’d associated with over the years. She didn’t fawn all over him; she had too much dignity. Nor did she give herself unrealistic airs. She was down-to-earth. She had guts. Moxy. Pride. When she’d lost her boat and almost everything she’d owned, she’d picked herself up and moved on.

And. for pity’s
sake … when it came down to sheer sexuality, she attracted him like no other.

At that moment some of the guests nearby moved away, giving him a clear view of those attributes. Feminine curves. Shapely legs.

How would those thighs feel wrapped around his waist?

Lust clutched him low and hard and his vision blurred. He grabbed a beer from a waiter’s tray as he headed towards her. When he looked her way again a dude in a shiny gold suit had struck up a conversation with her.

Blake scowled. Typical indoors type—pale skin and smooth manicured hands. Wrong haircut. Apparently it didn’t bother Lissa because her
eyes sparkled and that luscious mouth curved as she laughed at something he said.

Then, as if she felt the heat of Blake’s gaze, she turned her head slightly and their eyes met. A ribbon of heat arced across the space between them.

But then Midas Man shifted, leaned closer, blocking Blake’s view. Simmering with impatience, he threw back his beer, plunked the near-empty glass on a marble pedestal bedecked with gold-painted leaves and closed in.

He circled behind her so that he could lay his hand on the middle of her back and lean in close to catch the heat of her skin and inhale her scent.
To claim possession.
He felt her tense beneath his touch. Then she jerked round, and those stunning eyes blinked. Just once.

‘Blake.’

She sounded surprised. As if she wasn’t expecting to see him there. Damn it. Clearly that look they’d exchanged less than thirty seconds ago hadn’t meant what he’d thought it meant. His impatience reached flash point.

Ignoring her conversation partner, Blake leaned even closer, so that his lips grazed the tip of her ear, and murmured, ‘We need to leave.’

‘Now? But—’

‘Something’s come up.’

‘Oh? What?’

A heart-pounding beat. The tiny space between them crackled with something like static
electricity. He knew she knew by the spark of realisation in her eyes, which were focused carefully on his. ‘Oh.’

‘And it needs immediate attention.’

She turned to the Midas Man. ‘Excuse me …’

Her voice trailed off as Blake grabbed her hand and towed her away.

‘What are you doing?’ she muttered breathlessly.

‘Saving you from terminal boredom.’

She shot a quick look behind her. ‘That’s mean, he was very sweet … not to mention mega-rich with a mansion to renovate. And we’re here in a professional capacity …’

‘Don’t change the subject,’ he snapped. His pulse was drumming in his ears. ‘We’re here as Gilda’s friends.’

‘What subject?’

Ignoring her question, he continued tugging her away from the crowd towards a wide chandeliered hallway, past alcoves where Grecian alabaster goddesses posed until he came to a narrower passage. He found the nearest closed door, pulled her inside and slammed it shut behind them. The party noise evaporated. A lone gold candle flickered on the bathroom vanity and he got a glimpse of his own reflection and Lissa’s wide eyes before he turned away.

The sound of the lock turning sounded preternaturally loud in the sudden silence and he heard
her sharp indrawn breath as she pressed a hand to her chest.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I … You startled me for a moment.’

‘You startle easily, party girl,’ he murmured. He could feel the warmth of her body beneath her dress, the silken slide of her arm as he twisted her so that she was wedged between him and the door.

‘What was all that stuff you said earlier about drumming up clients?’ In the dim light he saw her eyes spark as she looked up at him and her voice took on a clipped edge. ‘I noticed
you
weren’t d—’