Читать книгу The Party Dare - Anne Oliver, Anne Oliver - Страница 11

FOUR

At five a.m. Sunday, with the last guest gone, Brie dragged her dance-weary feet upstairs to bed. A couple of hours’ sleep... She blinked at Bron’s DVD forgotten on the dressing table next to the half-empty bottle of shiraz. Leo Hamilton’s fault.

She crossed to her en-suite bathroom and grimaced at what she saw in the mirror. Her make-up had worn off, leaving her skin pale and revealing darker than usual smudges beneath her eyes. ‘One too many drinks, Party Babe Brie,’ she told her reflection.

Her nightly cleansing ritual completed, she applied her own pre-mixed moisturiser then climbed into bed. She stared at the ceiling, wide awake, body still buzzing despite the fatigue. Her mind refused to shut down. Leo was no different from any other male in that he liked to look at the female form. Boys had started looking at her when she’d rivalled them in height during her fifteenth year and grown a pretty decent pair of boobs.

Which had hurt at the time because, in their twisted little adolescent minds, boys automatically thought she slept around. An easy lay, she’d heard Billy Swanson snigger before she’d decked him with her backpack. She still hated that men could enjoy a fling and were considered playboys or studs whereas women who enjoyed the same were gossiped about in less than flattering terms, but nowadays she didn’t let it get to her.

And nowadays mature men saw her as more than boobs and legs—mostly. And if they didn’t...did it matter? It wasn’t as if it was long term. And she enjoyed being in the company of a nice-looking man. She enjoyed being swept off her feet and wined and dined and danced. Most of all she enjoyed how they made her feel at the end of the night.

She knew without any doubt at all that Leo could make her feel really, really good. But unlike other men she’d enjoyed spending time with, even hours after he’d gone, Leo’s potent energy lingered in her room and she dragged the covers up over her face as if to shield herself against its force and gritted her teeth.

Men. They filled a basic human need but, like parties and new experiences, they were to be enjoyed and appreciated before moving on to the next. She was careful to choose a partner on the same wavelength and with the same expectations and moral code as herself. Cheating was out. She never lied because she knew bitterly how it felt to be lied to. She expected—no, she demanded—honesty in return.

Unstructured, temporary relationships were her thing. Since Elliot. Eight years ago she’d been so dazzled by the rich young executive she’d seen nothing but the stars he hung in the sky exclusively for her pleasure. When he’d started sending floral apologies for missed dates, she’d made exceptions for him, and excuses. Until the stars had faded and she’d seen him clearly for the lying, cheating rat he was.

Leo’s sudden arrival in her room had both surprised and excited her, transporting her to another place with his unexpected but fun spontaneity and slow-burning kiss.

Until it had ended in disaster less than fifteen minutes later. How did he get away with his appalling lack of social skills? Yeah, looks and sex appeal—they worked every time. No, not every time and not with her. He had some major grovelling to do before she’d let him anywhere near her person again.

But she smiled into the darkness remembering his reaction on the stairs. Pure molten lust and powerless to act on it. Because, in that situation, Brie had held the power. For her, that power had been the only thing that had saved the moment. She fell asleep at last with the smile still on her lips.

* * *

While her raspberry mint tea steeped, Brie plodded outside with a carton of cans and bottles destined for recycling. She winced at the glare—nine a.m. on a Sunday morning was unspeakably early to be up after an all-nighter. But preferable to being assaulted with dreams of a man she didn’t want to think about and whether he tasted as good in the morning as he had last night.

She emptied her recycling into the bin with a loud clanking of glass and metal.

‘Good morning.’

The familiar voice resonated crisply in the chilly air. She swivelled to see the man himself watching her from the gap in the fence a few metres away. How dared he look so refreshed? So together? So attractive? Unlike the way she knew she looked without a scrap of make-up and less than three hours’ sleep. ‘We aren’t meeting until this afternoon,’ she said, turning her back to him. She gathered bottles from a patio table, tossed them in the bin.

‘I was outside and heard you busy there. We could meet this morning if you prefer to get it out of the way.’

To avoid looking at him she wiped the table top with a rag and wished he’d go away so he wouldn’t see her. ‘This morning doesn’t suit.’

He paused, obviously unused to people not falling in with his plans. ‘Okay. I’ve drawn up a schedule. Shouldn’t take long. We can grab a coffee in town somewhere and work it out. Say one o’clock? I’m on the three-fifteen flight out.’

She rose, not avoiding his gaze now but looking him straight in those silvery eyes. ‘I don’t drink coffee. Work it out?’ She said each word as if she were talking to a dim-witted child—which wasn’t much of a stretch, considering last night’s behaviour. ‘Work what out, exactly?’

Genuine surprise crossed his expression. ‘The details of the agreement you persuaded me was a win-win for both of us. Or have you forgotten already?’

‘Ah. That agreement.’ Temper seethed hot through her veins but she kept her cool. ‘I thought you might be going to work on your apology for walking out last night without waiting for me to tell you that I was detained by a guest who’d been taken ill.’ Brie waited a beat for that piece of information to sink in. ‘This might be hard for a guy like you to comprehend but she took priority over anything you and I might have had going.’