There's Something About a Rebel- Read online

  Quick threads? He swallowed. It was held together with a few threads? ‘You. constructed it yourself?’

  ‘I’m not wasting money when I don’t have to. I found it in an off-cut bin at a belly-dance studio.’ She held up a hand and thin gold bangles danced along her arm. ‘No, don’t ask how it holds together. And no, it’s not going to unravel. At least I hope not.’

  By God, so did he.

  ‘But just in case …’ She flicked at a string of tiny gold safety pins tucked discreetly into the top.

  Music, voices and a tinkle of feminine laughter drifted from next door as she reached down to adjust a strap on her sandal then straightened. ‘Still, I hardly think I’ll be noticed among the Beautiful People.’

  Blake gave his head a mental shake. It was she who was beautiful, and, going on his memory of these charity dos, the majority of party-goers were generally over fifty. She was going to give some old geezer a heart attack.

  If he wasn’t careful she was going to give him a heart attack.

  ‘Nice look.’ Her gaze slid over his dark suit rather too slowly for his comfort. ‘Do you get a lot of wear out of that attire in the navy? Lots of military functions to attend, admirals to salute? Wives and daughters to charm?’

  He didn’t miss the glimmer of dark in those clear eyes at her pointed mention of the last.

  ‘But of course,’ she ran on before he could get a word in. She shook her head and a single auburn curl beside her ear bobbled. ‘You’d wear one of those gorgeous naval dress uniforms, wouldn’t you? All blinding white with gold buttons.’ Her gaze clouded momentarily as if she saw him dressed so.

  And if they didn’t get going, he was going to have to reach out and smooth that curl behind her ear … and then … his stomach tightened. they’d be in a world of trouble. He turned away, towards the door. ‘Shall we go?’

  Lissa tried not to look impressed but Gilda and Stefan’s magnificent mansion had been transformed into a Grecian paradise. In the balmy air, multicoloured lanterns hung overhead and reflected like fireworks in the sapphire pool while guests wearing the latest in gold designer fashion feasted on a multitude of delicacies and drank champagne from sparkling crystal glasses.

  The patio doors had been flung open and, inside, tall orchid spikes speared from gilt-edged vases set on ornate polished mahogany or marble pedestals, their exotic scents mingling with expensive French perfume. Somewhere a blues singer accompanied a clarinet, crooning come-hither World War Two songs.

  She didn’t have time to absorb it all because as soon as they arrived they were handed drinks and Lissa was whisked away by her hostess to meet a trio of women who’d known Blake’s mother, wealthy middle-aged matrons dripping with diamonds. And gold. It was like being in the house of Midas.

  Blake was still watching her as she cast him a backward glance. He raised his glass. Enjoy the evening, he seemed to say. I intend to. From the corner of her eye she saw why: tall, blonde and busty heading his way.

  So there was Lissa, hearing all about Muriel someone’s latest fashion disaster while waiting for a lull in the conversation so she could get a word in about her business—their business—while he indulged in … whatever it was he was doing behind her back.

  ‘Oh, and did you hear that the Bakers from Surfers heard Rochelle’s son was coming and cancelled at the last minute?’

  Lissa’s ears pricked up.

  But at sharp glances from her friends, the woman who’d delivered the news found a sudden interest in the bottom of her crystal flute. ‘Oops. Sorry.’

  The words, obviously aimed Lissa’s way and tossed out with malicious amusement, stunned her. Then filled her with anger. A red-hot ball in her chest. She felt it build and build until she felt as if she might explode.

  This was Blake they were maligning. Who’d risked his life for fourteen years and suffered God only knew what horrors to keep their country safe. A man she’d learned was much more than she’d ever given him credit for. Once upon a time she’d listened to the rumours too. She didn’t know the circumstances with Janine. She didn’t need to—she knew Blake.

  And she’d trust him with her life.

  The sudden realisation stunned her anew. She’d never thought it possible to feel that way about a man again. Armed with that knowledge, she took a sip from her glass before seizing the opportunity in the lull to ask, ‘Are you talking about Janine?’

  There was a startled ‘Was she a friend of yours?’

  ‘No.’ She looked straight into the other woman’s eyes. ‘But Blake is.’

  More glance-swapping. Frowns exchanged. A conspiracy of silence. Awkward moment.

  ‘I hate innuendoes and gossip, don’t you?’ She tilted her champagne flute towards the women, looking at each one in turn. ‘Especially when we all know it’s based on lies and hearsay and spread by ignorance.’

  For a few tense seconds there wasn’t a murmur. Not so much as a flicker of movement from any of them. It was as if they’d been turned to stone. Or solid gold.

  Then the oldest of the three smiled slowly. ‘Well said, my dear. I like a girl who’s not afraid to stand up for herself.’ Looking Lissa up and down, she nodded approvingly. ‘My name’s Jocelyn. Rochelle Everett was one of my closest friends. So tell us how you met Blake and then we’d love to hear all about your new business.’ She turned to the others. ‘Wouldn’t we, ladies?’

  Lissa mingled with the crowd, feeling extraordinarily satisfied. Jocelyn had given her a business card and told her to make an appointment to look at renovating her kitchen. She made two other appointments with potential clients over the next hour.

  Finally, excusing herself from the airless room, she made her way outside to the patio and the younger set. A couple of women in gold bikinis were splashing about in the pool and laughing.

  And like any other unattached male, where else would Blake be but watching on from the decking? Tossing their big plastic ball back to them with a grin?

  The pain that twisted beneath her ribcage was nothing to do with the way they were deliberately throwing it in his direction, nor the fact that he was obviously enjoying the attention. It was just the way she’d tied the length of fabric too tight beneath her breasts.

  He must have felt her glare because he looked up and their eyes met over the cavorting mermaids. He’d removed his jacket and his white shirt clung to his body like a second skin, making his skin appear even more bronzed. She refused to notice. Fun for some. She was sweating contacts and appointments while he was sweating … bimbos.

  Turning away, she headed for the nearest waiter.

  What? Blake mouthed, watching her. Too late. She was already stalking off, disappearing among the crowd, her undulating gold-wrapped hips a magnificent memory.

  He rolled shoulders suddenly gone tense. He’d kept out of the way to give Lissa a chance to do her thing. He knew it was important to her that she make a success of this on her own. She wanted independence. He was giving it to her.

  Though he had to admit he had no inclination to schmooze with his mother’s cronies unless they found him. To his vexation, a few of them had. But he’d played nice. For Lissa’s sake.

  And all he’d got was a glare for his trouble.

  Frowning, he skirted the pool in pursuit. What had he done to tick her off?

  He caught sight of her near one of the glittering supper tables, her expression animated as she spoke to an elderly woman with lavender hair, and found himself stalling. To watch her, simply watch her.

  The grown-up Lissa wasn’t what he’d expected. And different from the other women he’d associated with over the years. She didn’t fawn all over him; she had too much dignity. Nor did she give herself unrealistic airs. She was down-to-earth. She had guts. Moxy. Pride. When she’d lost her boat and almost everything she’d owned, she’d picked herself up and moved on.

  And. for pity’s sake … when it came down to sheer sexuality, she attracted him like no other.

  At that moment some of th
e guests nearby moved away, giving him a clear view of those attributes. Feminine curves. Shapely legs.

  How would those thighs feel wrapped around his waist?

  Lust clutched him low and hard and his vision blurred. He grabbed a beer from a waiter’s tray as he headed towards her. When he looked her way again a dude in a shiny gold suit had struck up a conversation with her.

  Blake scowled. Typical indoors type—pale skin and smooth manicured hands. Wrong haircut. Apparently it didn’t bother Lissa because her eyes sparkled and that luscious mouth curved as she laughed at something he said.

  Then, as if she felt the heat of Blake’s gaze, she turned her head slightly and their eyes met. A ribbon of heat arced across the space between them.

  But then Midas Man shifted, leaned closer, blocking Blake’s view. Simmering with impatience, he threw back his beer, plunked the near-empty glass on a marble pedestal bedecked with gold-painted leaves and closed in.

  He circled behind her so that he could lay his hand on the middle of her back and lean in close to catch the heat of her skin and inhale her scent. To claim possession. He felt her tense beneath his touch. Then she jerked round, and those stunning eyes blinked. Just once.

  ‘Blake.’

  She sounded surprised. As if she wasn’t expecting to see him there. Damn it. Clearly that look they’d exchanged less than thirty seconds ago hadn’t meant what he’d thought it meant. His impatience reached flash point.

  Ignoring her conversation partner, Blake leaned even closer, so that his lips grazed the tip of her ear, and murmured, ‘We need to leave.’

  ‘Now? But—’

  ‘Something’s come up.’

  ‘Oh? What?’

  A heart-pounding beat. The tiny space between them crackled with something like static electricity. He knew she knew by the spark of realisation in her eyes, which were focused carefully on his. ‘Oh.’

  ‘And it needs immediate attention.’

  She turned to the Midas Man. ‘Excuse me …’

  Her voice trailed off as Blake grabbed her hand and towed her away.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she muttered breathlessly.

  ‘Saving you from terminal boredom.’

  She shot a quick look behind her. ‘That’s mean, he was very sweet … not to mention mega-rich with a mansion to renovate. And we’re here in a professional capacity …’

  ‘Don’t change the subject,’ he snapped. His pulse was drumming in his ears. ‘We’re here as Gilda’s friends.’

  ‘What subject?’

  Ignoring her question, he continued tugging her away from the crowd towards a wide chandeliered hallway, past alcoves where Grecian alabaster goddesses posed until he came to a narrower passage. He found the nearest closed door, pulled her inside and slammed it shut behind them. The party noise evaporated. A lone gold candle flickered on the bathroom vanity and he got a glimpse of his own reflection and Lissa’s wide eyes before he turned away.

  The sound of the lock turning sounded preternaturally loud in the sudden silence and he heard her sharp indrawn breath as she pressed a hand to her chest.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I … You startled me for a moment.’

  ‘You startle easily, party girl,’ he murmured. He could feel the warmth of her body beneath her dress, the silken slide of her arm as he twisted her so that she was wedged between him and the door.

  ‘What was all that stuff you said earlier about drumming up clients?’ In the dim light he saw her eyes spark as she looked up at him and her voice took on a clipped edge. ‘I noticed you weren’t d—’

  ‘Shut up and kiss me,’ he said, and laid his lips on that luscious mouth as he’d wanted to do all evening.

  CHAPTER TEN

  AS HIS lips claimed hers, everything else flew out of Lissa’s mind except that this was Blake kissing her and she was kissing him back. His hands on her shoulders, her waist, her hips. His body heat searing her from neck to knee and every place between. His forest-fresh cologne and the musky scent of clean male sweat.

  But mostly it was the way he kissed her. Hot with impatience, rich with desire. And with a fast-burning energy that threatened to spontaneously combust her right where she stood. His tongue plunged between her lips then withdrew, and again, making love to her mouth over and over until she felt her legs turning to jelly.

  Somehow her desperate arms found their way around his neck, and she clung to him as if he were the one dependable reality in a world gone momentarily crazy.

  He lifted his head and watched her through heavy-lidded eyes as he slid one hard palm between her thighs. Anticipation danced along her nerve endings, heat shimmered on her skin and she shivered all over. ‘Yes …’

  He continued to watch her as his hand moved higher. As his long fingers found the edge of her panties and crept beneath. As his thumb stroked her swollen sex, just once. Liquid heat rushed to her core and she sucked in a sharp breath as her intimate flesh quivered. ‘Oh, yes.’ Her head fell back against the door and her eyes slid shut.

  ‘Do you like that?’ His breath tickled as he nibbled her ear lobe.

  ‘You know … a woman … who doesn’t?’ She wondered vaguely whether she was going to hyperventilate.

  He stroked her again, then dipped a finger inside her. Drew it out slowly—a long smooth glide that sent her soaring halfway to the moon. He slid in once more. Two fingers. Deeper, more insistent.

  Ribbons of colour played behind her eyelids, she felt the familiar rippling sensation building, building. So soon. a mere touch and she was already on the edge.

  ‘Look at me,’ he demanded, his voice harsh.

  As the wave crashed over her and her internal muscles contracted around his fingers she opened her eyes and tumbled into his gaze. Candle-light flickered over his features and the room smelled of lilacs. ‘Yes, yes, yes-s-s.’ She felt herself start to slide down the wall and clung tighter to his neck.

  ‘Gotcha.’ With his hands beneath her bottom, he lifted her so that she was pinned against the door. She started wrapping her legs around his waist until the harsh sound of fabric ripping filled the room.

  ‘Oops.’ Her slightly hysterical, trembly laugh seemed to ricochet off the tiled walls.

  They both heard the tap on the door and turned to stone, Blake’s hands clamped on her bottom.

  ‘Excuse me …’ An elderly woman’s voice.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ Lissa whispered. ‘Now we’re in trouble.’

  Another knock, louder. ‘Is everything all right in there?’

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ Blake answered smoothly.

  Before Lissa could disengage her arms from around his neck, he was fumbling for the pins at her bodice. His hands brushed her breast as he worked. Her nipples took no account of the fact that she and Blake were locked in a bathroom and some old lady was right outside the door probably waiting to use the loo, and puckered up even more tightly against his palm.

  He pressed the pins into her hand, then stepped back to give her room to fasten the frayed edges, but her fingers shook so badly she barely managed the task. ‘I’m not sure it’ll hold for long.’

  ‘It doesn’t need to.’ His voice was tight and gruff as he took her firmly by the arm, unlocked the door. ‘You first.’

  ‘Why me?’ she whispered back. Oh. She unlocked the door, pulled it open.

  Gilda was waiting with a concerned elderly lady hovering behind her. ‘Oh, Lissa. Blake …?’ Her voice rose slightly on the last. ‘Margaret heard noises …’

  Lissa stifled a nervous giggle that bubbled up.

  Blake stepped behind her, his hands on her shoulders, and she felt an immediate surge of guilty embarrassment. She knew her face proclaimed to the world what she’d just been enjoying. Heat climbed into her cheeks. She didn’t dare look down at the hem of her dress.

  But Blake, cool and in control, at least to outward appearances, said, ‘Wardrobe malfunction,’ his voice betraying none of the huskiness and dark passion she’d
heard moments ago. ‘I’m taking Lissa home.’

  ‘Oh … that’s probably best.’ A tiny line creased Gilda’s brow. Obviously the shredded reason for their sudden departure wasn’t apparent to her, even if their exit from the bathroom together left little doubt as to what they’d been doing.

  ‘Thank you for coming, and thank you, Blake, for your very generous cheque.’

  ‘You’re welcome. I hope it’ll do some good.’ He dropped his hands and edged Lissa along with a firm palm at her back, obviously mindful of the fragility of those pins and her super-stiletto shoes. ‘Thanks for inviting us.’

  ‘Um,’ Lissa agreed, vaguely. Her power of speech seemed to have deserted her. ‘‘Night.’

  The moment they were away from prying eyes he swung her into his arms and carried her down the paved path. Under the street light his jaw was rigid, his eyes focused dead ahead. She could hear his heart thumping against her ear as he strode to the front door, keyed the security code and shouldered the door open.

  He flicked on a light and they made it as far as the second stair—not far at all—before he bent his head and touched his brow to hers and said, ‘Lissa,’ in a strangled voice that spoke of barely restrained control.

  He released her in such a way that her body slid slowly down the front of his, her feet landing on the step above where he stood. His lips were pressed together tight, eyes blazing with a passion that seared all the way through to her crazily beating heart and she wondered that it didn’t stop altogether.

  But then he said, ‘Go on up to bed.’

  Her heart did stop then, with a terrifying jolt before resuming its crazy rhythm. He didn’t mean that. He couldn’t mean that. Not after that mind-blowing trip to the moon he’d given her. Not with those eyes, not with that steel rod she’d felt as she’d slid down his rigid torso.

  You’re not ready for what I’d like to do to you.

  Maybe she should go while she had the chance. Flee straight up those stairs to her room and lock the door tight.

  Her legs barely held her upright but she remained where she was. This was Blake, and a night of pleasure in his arms beckoned. She stared him down. ‘I’m not tired.’