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.’