snagged on a final notice for payment for something or other attached to the fridge door with a magnet. None of his business.
Every square centimetre of the boat was crammed with stuff. Canvases against the wall beside an old tin of artists’ brushes, another of charcoals and pencils. The bunk beds beyond were covered in swatches of fabric, colour palettes, magazines, wallpaper books. How did anyone live amidst such chaos?
Maybe it was the calming floral scents that pervaded the air or the potted herbs on a shelf near the window, but somewhere beneath the domestic carnage the place had a. comfortable cosiness. He’d not experienced anything like it since he’d been a youngster living with his mum, and wondered grimly if he could find sleep here after all.
He should leave the area entirely. Find somewhere else to rent along the coast somewhere while he was in Oz and forget he’d ever seen Melissa Sanderson. Solitude was what he wanted. What he craved until he felt halfway sane again.
A steady drip nearby diverted his attention, a silver teardrop followed quickly by another against the light, and he glanced up. Obviously the leak had been there for some time judging by the half-full container beneath it. He’d been too preoccupied with everything else to notice. Now he scanned other damp patches. ‘How long’s this been going on?’
She glanced up at the ceiling, then away. ‘Not long. I can manage, it’s nothing.’ Instantly defensive.
Interesting. If he remembered correctly, the young Melissa had been anything but independent. Or so it had seemed. ‘Nothing? Look up, sweet cheeks. If water gets into that light socket there we’ve got a problem.’
He saw her glance up, then frown. Clearly she hadn’t noticed the extent of the damage. He looked at the puddle near her feet lapping around the base of the fridge. ‘Don’t you know electricity and water don’t mix?’
‘Of course I do,’ she snapped. ‘And it’s I’ve got a problem, not we.’
He shook his head. ‘Right now I don’t care whose problem it is, the boat’s unsafe—for any number of reasons.’ Now he’d seen the potential disaster he couldn’t in all good conscience just leave her here to fend for herself and go back to bed, could he?
As if to make a point, a flash sizzled the air, accompanied by one almighty crash of thunder that reverberated between his ears in time with his throbbing head.
‘That’s it.’ He rapped impatient knuckles on the table. ‘Two minutes to grab what you need. You’re sleeping in the house.’
CHAPTER TWO
‘IBEG your pardon?’ Lissa glared at him. It was hard to glare when faced with such gorgeousness, but she was through taking orders. From anyone. Ever again. ‘I’m no—’
‘Your choice, Lissa. You can come as you are if you prefer, it’s irrelevant to me.’ His supercool gaze cruised down her body making her hot in all the wrong places. ‘Just thought you might want a change of clothes.’
Then he stepped closer and she flinched involuntarily as memories of another man crowded in on her. Big, intimidating. Abusive. She’d thought she loved him once.
Shoving the sharp spasm away, she pushed at his chest. ‘Personal space, if you don’t mind.’ He was warm, hard. Tempting to forget past fears and let her hand wander … to feel the beat of his heart against her palm. Heat shimmied up her arm and her own heart skipped a beat. She dropped her hand immediately, lifted her chin. ‘I’m staying right here. On this boat,’ she clarified quickly since they were still standing way too close. ‘I should be here … in case something happens.’
‘Something’s going to happen all right if you don’t get your butt into gear and move.’
She bristled at the commanding tone but he backed off. Still, she knew without a doubt, he meant what he said. And she hated to admit that he was right; what would she do if water started leaking through the light socket? Or worse. She’d never known such a downpour. The situation was much more dangerous than when she’d gone to bed. More dignified to acquiesce with whatever grace she could summon up.
‘Fine, then,’ she said crisply, over her shoulder as she turned and walked to her bedroom. ‘You stay here and keep an eye on things.’
‘I intend to.’ His voice boomed down the narrow passage.
Oh. Really? Obviously this superhero was immune to the dangers he’d so helpfully pointed out. Well, that suited her fine. She had enough problems without adding gorgeous male to the list.
She plucked the jeans and the T-shirt she’d worn today from the bottom of the bed, considered changing but decided against it. Stripping now with him only a few steps away would put her in a vulnerable situation, and she knew all too much about vulnerable situations.
‘So, what, storms bounce off you, then?’ she tossed back, grabbing basic toiletries and shoving them in a carry-all.
No reply from the other end of the boat but she could almost hear him: I can look after myself.
And she couldn’t? She hurried back to the kitchen with her gear and came to a breathless stop a few steps away from him. Breathless because the impact of seeing him standing in her small living space all distant dark protector sucked her breath clean away. No, not all dark, she noted, because his eyes were cool, cool blue.
But they were still barriers. And he was still the intense brooding Blake she remembered from all those years ago. ‘I’m not that helpless little thirteen-year-old any more.’ Her cheeks stung with embarrassment. She hadn’t meant to remind him.
A muscle tightened in his jaw and his gaze flickered over her, the merest glint of heat in the cool. ‘I’m better off alone. That way I don’t have to worry about you slipping and breaking a leg and drowning in the process.’
‘I do know how to swim.’ She thought vaguely that she’d like to sketch him now, with the lines of maturity settled around his mouth, around his eyes. Those sharp planes and angles of cheekbones and jaw—
He shook his head. ‘You may not be helpless but I’m betting you’re as stubborn as ever,’ he muttered.
Stubborn? ‘How would you know how I was?’ She could do cool too. Iceberg-cool. ‘I didn’t exist to you.’ She stepped away. Turned to the bunk beds against the wall. ‘But yes, I’m very stubborn where my work’s concerned. I have merchandise here I need to protect from the weather. should anything happen.’
‘I’ll take care of it.’
‘Nice offer, but I don’t want it to get wet.’ She dragged a couple of plastic storage containers from beneath the lower bunk. ‘If you really insist on this … evacuation … all of this has to be stored and brought to the house.’
‘All?’ He sounded doubtful. ‘Do you really need it all?’
‘Every last fabric swatch. My work depends on it. I’m an interior designer.’ Unemployed interior designer at present, but he didn’t need to know that.
‘Come on, then, let me give you a hand.’
‘Fine,’ she clipped, packing the containers swiftly, anxious not to have him too close. His proximity was unnerving her; his musky warm scent was making her itch. ‘If you could get those sketch pads.’ She waved him away. ‘There are plastic bags …’
It took them a few minutes to pack everything up.
‘I’ll bring the rest up to the house after we’ve got you settled.’ He had to raise his voice above the rain drumming overhead.
Settled? Hardly. She straightened, a container beneath one arm, her carry-all over a shoulder. If he wanted to play Mr Protector, so long as her stuff was safe from rain, she’d put up with it.
‘Thanks.’ Said grudgingly. She really did not want his