The Party Dare. Anne Oliver

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СКАЧАТЬ rent money could go to the Pink Snowflake Foundation instead of the Arcade owner’s over-inflated bank account.’ She grinned at her own ingenuity. ‘It’s win-win.’

      ‘Hmm.’ He squatted in front of the blue pot, tested its stability on the uneven green tiles recycled from the sixties and laid with her own fair hands. ‘What’s the Pink Snowflake Foundation?’

      ‘Jett and Olivia are opening a luxury holistic retreat for cancer patients to recuperate after their treatment and Pink Snowflake is Olivia’s project of love that made the whole thing possible. It’s ahead of schedule but the happy couple are overseas. They asked me if I’d like to spend a few nights a week there. Soak in the spa, enjoy the pool and solarium. Use the gym. Explore their private cellar. Naturally I couldn’t refuse.’

      ‘Naturally.’ The tone was dry. Rising, he hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets and looked about. ‘You own this place? You live here alone?’

      She nodded. ‘I inherited it when my parents died and, yes, I live alone.’

      ‘So I’d have the entire place to myself? No unexpected interruptions. Until the job’s done?’

      ‘All yours. Although I may need to come by and collect the odd outfit or whatever. But you’d have all the keys and I’d ring first. I wouldn’t just drop in.’ Unless you invited me.

      As if he’d heard her private thought, his eyes dropped to her mouth. He looked away fast, checked his watch again and she pounced before he could refuse. ‘When would you want it by?’

      His eyes flicked back to hers. This time they held. ‘Next weekend.’

      Was it her imagination or was there something in the way he said that? A glint rapidly masked behind that quicksilver gaze?

      ‘Sold,’ she told him before she could think of all the reasons why inviting a man she knew nothing about—except that he turned her on—into her private sanctuary might be a bad idea. ‘The Pink Snowflake Foundation thanks you.’

      ‘Okay, we’ll give it a try,’ he said finally. ‘I’m all for a good cause.’ He pulled out his mobile, cancelled his appointment with the Arcade rep.

      ‘“We” as in you and a partner?’ Brie spoke more sharply than she meant to.

      ‘“We” as in you and me.’ The way he linked them together in that low, husky voice while he held her gaze prisoner made her pulse race with excitement. ‘I want to see it,’ he said, sliding his mobile back into his pocket. ‘If it’s not an inconvenience.’

      ‘Not at all.’ She gestured him towards the far side of the conservatory while she got herself under control. ‘Family area’s through here. Layout’s the same as yours,’ she said, whisking a basket of washing off the sofa as she passed. ‘Have a seat and I’ll get you a drink. I have fourteen kinds of tea, hot or cold— Oops, you’re a coffee m—’

      ‘Thanks, but there’s no need,’ she heard him say. ‘I’m meeting my architect in ten.’

      The busy blonde with the over-exposed boobs. ‘Chris.’ She raised a brow. ‘Thought you weren’t planning any major changes?’

      ‘Just that kitchen wall I told you a...bout...’ Leo’s voice trailed off as he took in the visuals. He’d walked into chaos.

      What appeared to be an entire wardrobe of party dresses was strewn across an armchair. As he entered the kitchen, a variety of foodstuffs covered every available surface but he had no idea what she intended cooking. He gave a mental shudder, comparing it with his own ordered world, from his computer files to his DVD collection to the way he arranged his ties.

      Had she thought this idea through? He doubted it. By all appearances, it seemed she was one of those impulsive people who never stood still, gravitating from one interest to the next as the whim took her.

      ‘Excuse the mess. I’ve been experimenting with some nature-based facial masks and steams.’

      Which explained the bowl of pink mash that smelled like strawberries and peppermint. But not the fifty or so plastic beer and wine glasses stacked alongside a large box of Moroccan lanterns. ‘I’ll come back later,’ he told her. When he’d reconsidered.

      ‘Hey, if you’re in a hurry now, why don’t you come by this evening? I’m having a party—ten o’clock on—you could check out the place then.’

      Fine for some. He had a Saturday night date with his laptop. To ease the pain, he was planning to help the evening along with a nice Tasmanian Cabernet Shiraz. He intended stopping at the trendy upmarket bottle shop he’d seen nearby. But that wasn’t the only reason. An evening with Breanna Black in party mode was a bad idea. ‘No can do. I’ve got work to finish.’

      ‘Don’t we all? But on a Saturday night?’ She clucked her tongue. ‘That’s just sad.’

      ‘Some might say so.’ But he was proud of his consultancy business. His alone. He’d built it from the ground up, with nothing but determination and hard work and it was the first and only part of his life he’d ever had absolute control over. It was worth a few sacrifices.

      ‘I’ll leave you my contact number.’ He placed his business card next to a row of a dozen or so unusual teapots on a distressed wood sideboard then turned to her. ‘If you’ll tell me your details, I’ll come by tomorrow. I’m presuming afternoon’ll be best?’

      She smiled. A naughty smile that seemed to make him an accomplice in whatever racy plans she had for the evening, and almost had him wishing he’d accepted her invitation, bad idea or not.

      Temptation beckoned with the luscious curve of those full lips. ‘Give me your phone.’

      Holding out her hand, she stepped close. Too close, and into his personal space. Feminine scent enveloped him; the tips of her extended fingers brushed his jumper.

      He stepped back. She wasn’t getting her hands near his contacts list—or anywhere else for that matter. His groin tightened at the erotic thought. ‘Just tell me, I’ll remember.’ He had an exceptional memory for numbers and facts—except right now he was having trouble remembering his own name.

      She rattled off a series of numbers as he walked to the door.

      ‘We’ll work out the details tomorrow,’ he muttered.

      He didn’t stop till he reached the new SUV he’d picked up only hours ago. Sliding onto the caramel-soft seat, he tipped his head back and closed his eyes, lust and frustration building a fire below his belt.

      Hadn’t he stayed away from her? Minded his own business?

      Had it made a scrap of difference?

      The woman wasn’t merely a nuisance, she should come with a warning label. Approach at your own peril.

      So much for working without being disturbed. Brie didn’t have to be physically present to mess with his head.

      Tonight was going to be a long, uncomfortable night.

       THREE

      Brie, СКАЧАТЬ