Читать книгу The Party Dare - Anne Oliver, Anne Oliver - Страница 10
ОглавлениеBrie, an experienced hostess, was running late for her own party. Her plant rescue expedition had taken longer than she’d anticipated. The reason for that was an enormously sexy man and he was still centre stage in her thoughts. And didn’t she love the fact that here was a man who more than matched her height? She set out nibbles, arranged tea-lights and lanterns for lighting later while she thought about her impulsive offer to rent her home to him.
She doubted he’d expect the use of the entire house but it was going to be a race against time to have the place tidy and the stuff she wanted to take to the retreat packed by next weekend. On top of that, the thought of Leo Hamilton sleeping in her bed, on her sheets, sent a shiver through her, along with the question: did he sleep naked? There was no alternative. It was the only room with a bed long enough and wide enough to accommodate a man his size.
Two hours before her guests were due to arrive, she drove to the liquor shop. She’d paid for her order, the cartons already stacked in her car with a friendly staff member’s assistance, when she remembered she’d intended to buy a bottle of sparkly to enjoy after work in the retreat’s spa later in the week.
And there he was, the most recent object of her private fantasies perusing the classiest labels in the red wine section. Labels so out of her price range, she could only imagine the smooth, rich flavour. No doubt the two of them had vastly different tastes. And not only in wine.
Come on, Brie, when has that stopped you?
It might be fun at that.
She picked up the nearest bottle of sparkling white while she watched him from the corner of her eye. She’d glimpsed a sense of humour this afternoon. Even traded flirty looks with him. Whether he acknowledged it or not, Brie knew when a guy was interested.
She also knew that the moment the renovations were done, he’d leave the property in his agent’s hands and move on to his next million-dollar investment. He was that kind of guy. She smiled to herself. And that made him the perfect kind of guy—perfectly constructed, perfectly casual, perfectly short-term.
When Brie set her sights on a man, he didn’t stand a chance. But their fun times never lasted long—these days she made sure of it. Since Elliot, her motto was no heart, no hurt. Worked for her every time.
* * *
Heat stroked Leo’s left cheek like a glove and the hairs on the back of his neck seemed to move antenna-like in the same direction.
He knew why before he looked up.
He’d seen Breanna and her puppy-dog assistant stacking up her car with booze and thought she’d left. But no, she was walking towards him, holding a bottle of bubbly and wielding her flirtatious smile like a challenge. His fingers tightened on his two-hundred-dollar bottle of Barossa shiraz cabernet and, with a vague nod towards her, he moved to the refrigerator section.
Like an inevitability, she kept coming. He selected a black olive pâté and his favourite cheese—a Tasmanian Brie—before he realised the irony of his choice.
Too late to swap for a Camembert. Was this some kind of cosmic conspiracy?
She’d loosened her hair and it slid over her shoulders, straight and thick and glorious. She stopped in front of him, noted his product choices and wielded that smile some more. ‘Party for one?’
‘Might as well get some enjoyment out of the evening while I work.’
She flicked her hair back in an artful, well-practised feminine move. ‘Why do tonight what you can put off till tomorrow? I have some crackers at home that would go nicely with that Brie.’ Her eyes seemed to say the type of cracker that goes off with a bang.
‘I’m sure you do. Brie.’ He refused to be seduced by her smoky-voiced invitation with its barely subtle innuendo. To prove it, he maintained his nonchalant gaze towards her as he drew out his wallet. He was all in favour of seduction, but he wanted to be the one doing the seducing. Wherever and whenever he was good and ready. He ignored the fire in his chinos insisting that time was fast approaching. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. As arranged.’
‘Fine,’ she said, not looking away. ‘However you want to play.’
Hard and fast. The unspoken words singed the air between them.
He waited for Breanna to break the searing eye contact first. The tension stretched out for several long seconds. Only when she finally glanced at her watch then delved into her bag for her purse did he turn towards the cash register at the end of the aisle.
‘Afraid you might enjoy yourself, Mr Hamilton?’ she teased behind him. ‘Or is it me you’re afraid of.’ It wasn’t a question.
He turned, caught her teasing, tossed it back. ‘Not at all. Parties aren’t my scene. Too many people.’ He intentionally lowered his tone. ‘But a party for two...’ He watched the teasing light in her eyes flare to frank awareness and a distinct attraction before she looked away. Score two to him.
I’m as eager to find out as you are, baby doll. But he had no intention of acting on it. Yet. He’d decide the if and when and it wouldn’t be tonight. Still, he couldn’t help grinning as he walked to the counter and set his platinum card down.
She followed, stood a good arm’s distance along the counter from him, considering the bottle in her hands. ‘I think I’m going to need two or more of these,’ she murmured to herself.
‘Best to be prepared, I say.’
That startled a laugh out of her. ‘You’re not what I expected, Mr Hamilton.’
‘Should I interpret that as a good thing?’
‘I’ll let you know. Later.’ She dared him with a hot glint in her midnight eyes, a quick curve of those glossy lips.
Which had him wondering how those eyes would look dazed with passion, how her lips would feel pressed against his own. How they’d feel against other body parts...
He gritted his teeth as his body responded to that tempting glimpse of paradise. He refused to be dictated to by his hormones. Or Ms Black. Swinging away, he raised his bottle in farewell as he moved to the door. ‘Enjoy your party.’
Yanking open his car door, he shook his head. Unbelievable. He was walking away from an opportunity to share the evening with a hot woman who obviously wanted the same thing he did.
He slid inside, sat a moment, staring through the windscreen. His next-door neighbour. Correction: Sunny’s neighbour. She and his sister looked about the same age, had the same feisty personalities—they’d probably get on well, even long-term.
Whereas he and Breanna? It would be hot and temporary, like that firecracker she’d made him think of. A whizz-bang, short-term fling.
But unlike the easy-going, casual women he hooked up with, this one would clash plenty with him. Give him a whole lot of drama he didn’t need.
He’d endured more than his share of emotional trauma. As a kid hearing his mother’s broken pleas when her violent husband exercised his conjugal rights and slapped her around while doing it, her sobs in the dark after he’d gone.
For more than half his lifetime he’d been powerless to change the situation. And every time his young self had tried, his mother had copped the beatings and the bruises.
Then there was the fire. Sunny’s arduous recovery and rehab. The relentless questions that nagged at him: what could he have done differently? What should he have done to change the outcome?
His breath fogged up the windscreen and he swiped a hand over the glass, switched on the ignition. High drama? Not him. No way. He’d planned his evening—a meal in one of the city’s upmarket restaurants overlooking Sullivans Cove, a few hours of work in the cosy sitting room accompanied by his favourite shiraz. Nothing and, more specifically, no one was going to interfere with those plans.
* * *
At ten-thirty, Leo powered off his laptop and stretched cramped muscles. The decision to postpone opening his wine had given him a clear head to work. His latest client was a new six-star eco lodge on Tasmania’s east coast with the beguiling name of Heaven. He’d finished reading their initial commentary and had noted his suggested changes and added his in-depth report an hour earlier than he’d anticipated.
It left him at a loose end for the rest of the evening.
Was that why he’d subconsciously postponed opening the bottle in the first place? Frowning, he dismissed it. He never felt the need to self-analyse. Until tonight. Until Breanna had burst into his life.
Her name alone brought her to sparkling life behind his eyes in a thousand different images, like seeing her through a kaleidoscope. Each one bright and sassy and unique.
Unsettling.
He paced to the window, stared past the rain pattering lightly on the night-darkened glass, in the direction of their homes, a two-minute drive away. He’d seen a substantial amount of liquor ferried to her car this afternoon. Was that a regular thing? He drummed his fingers on the pane. She was obviously a girl who enjoyed fun times. Were her parties noisy and boozy and out of control?
Tonight was an ideal opportunity to check things out and ensure his latest and most important acquisition was in Sunny’s best interests. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been invited, he reminded himself, and, picking up his bottle, he grabbed his car’s remote.
The unmistakable sounds of revelry greeted his ears when Leo strode up Breanna’s rain-slicked path with his bottle of wine a short time later. Bass thumped. Loud, but not loud enough to intrude on her neighbours’ peace. It scored Breanna a conditional nod of approval, even if her taste in music did nothing for him.
It appeared to be an open-door policy so he let himself in, crossed the foyer lit by a chandelier that matched his own. As he stepped into the formal lounge room, the atmosphere, overly warm with too many bodies packed into one place, enveloped him. Glow from the Moroccan lanterns splashed the shadowy room with splotches of orange and watermelon pink.
He waited for his eyes to adjust, expecting to see Breanna standing tall amongst the crowd wearing some eye-popping creation. Guests were gyrating in time to the pounding beat, others were loading plates at the spicy-smelling buffet in the corner.
But he didn’t see Breanna. He exhaled on an impatient breath. Where was she?
An attractive redhead in a slinky purple number found her way through the dancers and bobbed up in front of him. ‘Hi.’
Her smile was friendly interest. He was surprised to find it did nothing for him. ‘Hi there,’ he said, only half listening while he continued to search out the only reason he was here.
‘I’m Samantha. We haven’t met, have we?’
‘No, we haven’t. I’m Leo.’ He nodded towards the empty wine glass she was caressing. ‘Where can I get a couple of those?’
‘Drinks? I’d love—’
‘Glasses.’ He held up his bottle. ‘You don’t know where Breanna is, do you?’
‘She’s not far—I saw her a few moments ago talking with Bronwyn.’ Her smile evaporated and she waved towards the kitchen. ‘Glasses are that way.’
‘Thanks.’
On the lookout for the hostess, he made his way through the crowd, grabbing two clean long-stemmed wine glasses from the kitchen. The room looked marginally tidier than it had this afternoon. He spied a gaggle of girls in the family area where clothes had been scattered earlier, but saw neither Breanna nor her clothes. He checked the atrium where guests talked over booze and chips. The downstairs loo.
With the rest of the rooms in darkness, their doors shut, he presumed they were off-limits. Which left the next floor.
Familiar with the layout of his own place, he walked straight towards the master bedroom. He knew Breanna must be there since it was the only room with a light on. The sensual fragrance he’d come to associate with her—the one he’d taken to calling midnight temptation—drifted in the air. Anticipation swarmed through him and his pulse quickened.
He could hear movement and tapped on the semi-open door. ‘Breanna.’ When there was no reply, only a fast rustling sound, he tapped again. He was impatient to see her now he was here. ‘Breanna. Are you decent in there?’ In that instant it occurred to him that she might not be alone. Something hooked in his gut. Was that what he’d heard—two desperate would-be lovers trying to cover up fast? The thought of some other man touching her the way he’d been thinking of touching her shocked him into movement and he walked in without further preamble.
* * *
Leo was here? Brie scrambled up, tugged the hem of her new vermilion dress down, her heart jack-hammering. She swiped at a lock of hair that had fallen over her brow. He was the last person she wanted to catch her on her hands and knees searching under the bed for a DVD she’d borrowed from Bron and forgotten about.
She’d almost composed herself in front of the mirror when he entered without waiting for her invitation. Still, she could hardly hurl accusations—the door was open and he had asked permission. She’d just chosen not to answer until she was ready.
She still wasn’t ready and her heart was still thumping but she dragged her eyes to his reflection and locked gazes with him in the mirror while her fingers fumbled with the dress’s neckline. She could almost see the heat haze shimmering on the glass. Still watching his reflection, she saw him set his mega-expensive bottle of wine and two glasses on her bedside table.
He wore black casual and oh...my. She didn’t know what possessed her but to demonstrate just how cool and unruffled she was, not, she whirled around, sashayed over to him and planted a firm kiss on his mouth. Then she whirled back to the mirror.
Her lips were on fire. Her whole body was burning. She felt like a teenage rookie and glanced at him from beneath her lashes. Think cool, think cool.
He hadn’t moved. He shook his head. ‘What was that?’
She shrugged, the laugh catching in her throat. ‘A whim. I was curious.’
Now she was even more curious. What would a full-on sensual assault be like? Trying for casual, she picked up her brush, ran it through her hair. Her arm felt strangely weak, as if she were coming down with a fever. ‘What changed your mind?’
‘I finished sooner than I expected.’
‘Ah.’ She nodded wisely. ‘Party for one not satisfying, huh?’
‘The party hasn’t started yet.’ His voice took on a persuasive tone that brushed over her skin like velvet. ‘Nice.’
He meant her slinky dress—at least she thought he did—except his gaze seemed to skim only the bare thighs its short hem didn’t cover, sending goosebumps over her flesh.
‘Nice of you to notice.’
Setting her brush down, she turned from his reflection to look at the real man. And reminded herself to breathe. He seemed to draw something from her that she’d never known she had. Was she out of her depth with this one? ‘Do you think I’m going to abandon my hostess responsibilities for a frolic across the sheets with you?’
He raised a dark brow. ‘Are you?’
The scary thing was she had a feeling that was exactly what was going to happen. She loved playing the catch-me-if-you-can game almost as much as reaching the winning post but this time she seemed to be tied to the starting gate. ‘You’ve got a high opinion of yourself, haven’t you?’ She wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
He nodded. ‘I’m comfortable with who I am. How about you?’
‘At the moment I’m feeling pretty relaxed.’ Not exactly answering his question. She smiled to hide the fact she was strung out like wet washing in the wind.
He closed the door, muting the sound of the party below. Taking his time, he peeled the foil off the top of the bottle, unscrewed the cap and splashed some wine into the bottom of the glasses. ‘Do you like a good shiraz?’
‘I do. I should—’
‘This one’s my favourite. I didn’t expect to find it here.’
‘Me either,’ she murmured. She could delay her hostess duties a moment. Or possibly the rest of her life.
She leaned her backside against her dressing table for support as he stopped in front of her, both glasses in one large hand. The other he wrapped around the back of her neck, holding her skull in such a way so she was looking right at him. Up close his eyes were pewter flecked with cobalt. He smelled of fresh rain on cotton, shampoo and soap. She clutched the edge of the dressing table on either side of her hips. If she touched him, she might not be responsible for her actions, and, with him, she very much needed to be responsible.
His head dipped, his mouth hovered. ‘I’ll admit to a little curiosity of my own,’ he murmured and touched his lips to hers.
Firm and warm. They moved gently; testing, teasing, tasting. Taking his time, showing her how devastating one long, drawn-out kiss could be. How a woman could be seduced into forgetting her own identity. Her fingers tightened on the wood behind her. She could feel his body heat radiating between them and her fingers itched to explore but still she didn’t touch him.
She’d never been one for slow. This leisurely pace was new. Mesmerising. As her body melted against his her blood grew sluggish and flowed like clotted cream through her veins.
Even the sound of the rain on her window faded and all she was aware of were his fingers massaging the back of her scalp, his lips on hers, and the rich, dark promise of more. She yearned. When he raised his head, she bit back a sigh.
He lifted his hand from the back of her skull to trace a path just once down the side of her face, fingertips leaving a trail of tingling nerve endings. ‘Breanna.’ He slid his thumb over her bottom lip then took a step back.
He looked bemused, she thought. The way she felt right now. ‘That was...that’s a lot of curiosity.’
He reached out, flicked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Unlike your “whim”, I enjoy taking my time.’
‘I noticed,’ she said, feeling as if she were floating a few centimetres off the floor. She struggled to rein in her far-flung thoughts and ground herself. ‘There are at least fifty people downstairs who’ll be wondering where I am.’
‘They seem a pretty self-sufficient lot. Try this.’ He handed her a glass.
She took it with nerveless fingers and sipped, letting the rich mellowness caress the inside of her mouth. ‘Mmm.’
He drank too. ‘I doubt they’ll notice you’re missing for a little while.’
She sipped again. ‘Someone could turn up here at any moment.’ Bron, for instance.
‘Does that bother you?’
‘No.’ It should, it really should but right now she couldn’t bring herself to care. ‘You’re bad.’
He grinned, as if seducing women at their own parties was a regular pastime, and raised his glass. ‘Your opinion?’
‘Of the wine? Or the kiss?’
He watched her over the rim. ‘We both know we enjoyed the kiss.’
He had that right and the knowledge shimmered through her. ‘The wine’s beautiful—smooth and rich.’ Like you. Worth every cent he’d paid? Probably not. Still, she wasn’t complaining and sipped some more.
But she’d not eaten since lunch and the wine’s potency on an empty stomach spread through her limbs like an approaching anaesthetic. Her senses were filled with him, her mind reeling and already cloudy. Intoxication was a definite possibility and one she couldn’t afford.
She set her glass on the dressing table. ‘I’ll just slip downstairs to check everything’s okay and get us a dip and some of those crackers I promised you.’
* * *
Leo watched her slick a new layer of gloss over those luscious-tasting lips. He couldn’t wait to muss her up some more. He wanted to see the real Brie first thing in the morning with no make-up and satisfied with a long, slow night of sex.
As if reading his thoughts, she grinned at him in the mirror. ‘I’ll be right back.’
As she crossed the plush sage carpet his eyes followed the sway of orange silk-clad hips and he imagined how those barely covered, shapely long legs would feel entwined with his.
Man, oh, man, he needed to sit down. He sank into a cream wicker rocking chair in the corner to wait for his body’s response to partially subside—as if that were remotely possible. Not with Brie’s midnight temptation fragrance permeating every corner of the room. The tantalising taste of her lips on his own. The girl knew how to kiss and no doubt a good deal more.
Taking a long, slow swallow of his drink, he focused on the way it slid warm and satisfying down his throat rather than the unsatisfying ache in his groin.
For his next distraction, he turned his attention to her bedroom. He’d expected something bold and out there like the woman herself but her room was feminine and whimsically romantic—if you ignored the shamble of clothes, paperbacks and boxes scattered every which way. Deep green walls showcased John Waterhouse prints—The Lady of Shalott, Narcissus and The Awakening of Adonis.
On the queen-size bed lay a heap of flamboyant outfits that looked as if they’d been tried on then hastily discarded. Beneath, he glimpsed a rose-coloured floral quilt. He stared in growing consternation. Was this the room she expected him to sleep in while he stayed here? This bed? Surely she had other rooms and other beds?
He ran a perplexed hand over his hair. He hadn’t come here tonight with the intention of starting something with Breanna—his temporary landlady and Sunny’s future friend.
His observations so far confirmed she was nothing like the type of women he enjoyed—soft, cuddly, organised women willing and happy to let him take control. Women who were aroused by dominant men.
So why the blazes would he want to start anything with Breanna Black?
He already had.
And why not? With a body like hers? Pushing up, he paced to the door, craned his neck to see if she was on her way. He couldn’t wait to get her naked and beneath him and find out what really turned her on. Then set about driving her slowly mad with wanting it. Taking her to the brink of ecstasy with his hands and mouth, watching her eyes plead and burn with passion as he dragged her over the edge at last screaming his name—
Clenching his jaw, he checked the time. Where the hell was she? She’d all but dared him to come to this bash and he’d played right into her hands. With Breanna he couldn’t seem to think rationally. He was still playing into her hands, waiting in her room like an obsessed fool until she condescended to return. He shook his head to clear it.
She might have others fooled into playing her games, but not Leo Hamilton.
* * *
It took a tall tumbler of iced water under bright kitchen lights to clear Brie’s cotton-wool head and remember that she had a duty to all her guests, not just the man waiting for her in her bedroom who did crazy things to her internal organs and just wanted sex.
‘Hey, party babe.’ Samantha popped her head around the door. ‘A guy was looking for you.’ She gave the thumbs up as she crossed the room. ‘Did I forget to mention he was pretty damn cute?’
Cute? ‘He found me. Thanks. Would you take this to the table, please?’ Brie slid a plate of crackers with smoked salmon pâté and dill out of the fridge. ‘I’ll be right back.’
‘Take your time,’ Sam told her, reaching for the platter with a conspiratorial twinkle.
‘I’ll be right back,’ Brie repeated firmly. There was a party happening. Her party. Her friends. Her priority.
‘Brie?’
She was halfway down the hall to invite the cute Mr Hamilton downstairs to join the fun when the distressed voice had her turning back. Megan swayed in front of her, brow creased, lips white.
Brie gripped her friend’s arms. ‘What’s wrong, honey?’
‘I’m fighting a vicious migraine and the migraine’s winning. I’ve been looking for you.’
‘Oh, Megs, I’m so sorry.’ Guilt crawled through her as she propelled Megan to an unoccupied room off the hall, pushed her gently onto the nearest armchair. Leaving the light off, she squatted down in front of her. ‘I’d invite you to sleep it off here, except the noise...’
Megan closed her eyes. ‘Thanks but I need to go home before I throw up. Can you find Denis?’
‘Sure.’
It took a few minutes to locate Megan’s boyfriend having a smoke on the front veranda and a few more to help Megan to the car and see them off safely.
She was at the bottom of the stairs when Leo appeared at the top with that stern and uncompromising expression she’d seen him wearing last week. ‘Hey, there. I—’
‘We can make arrangements tomorrow,’ he said as he descended. ‘To work out the rental agreement.’
Had he added that last bit in case she thought he was referring to something more explicitly sexual when it clearly wasn’t? Prepared to cut him some slack because she’d left him alone for longer than she’d meant to, she smiled, tried again. ‘I’m sor—’
‘Not too early, right?’ he added, his eyes cool, shuttered. ‘So you can party into the wee hours. Enjoy yourself.’
He hadn’t given her a chance to explain. Hadn’t bothered to hear her reasons, and he was leaving. Just like that. She clenched her fists against her sides. Let him think what he would—after a childhood of being a social outcast, she was done letting other people’s assumptions and prejudices hurt her. ‘Is this a bad habit of yours?’
‘Is what?’
‘Forget it, it’s a waste of time.’ She was doubly angry he could affect her to such an extent. Why him? she wanted to scream. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, she stepped in front of him and poked his chest with a finger. ‘You know something? I will enjoy myself. They don’t call me Party Babe Brie for nothing.’
Twisting away, she marched across the foyer, glared at him as she slipped off her shoes beneath the graceful arch leading to the entertainment area. She ran her hands down the sides of her dress in a deliberately provocative manner that had the cool in his eyes turning molten, the cobalt flecks darkening. So satisfying to watch that handsome jaw clench, as if he hated himself for responding.
She grinned. His fingers flexed at his sides. Ooh, yeah, baby. Gotcha. Still watching him, she picked up her strappy stilettos, spun them above her head. ‘Hey, everyone, time to get this party swinging.’
