Aunt Lucy's Lover

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‘That was a few minutes ago. Maybe I’ve changed my mind about you since then.’

And maybe pigs might fly, she thought cynically, one of her eyebrows lifting in a sceptical arch.

A wry smile curved his mouth to one side, bringing her attention to those sensually carved lips, and where they might have been. The thought that he might have changed his mind about seducing her held an insidiously exciting aspect, one she would find hard to ignore.

But ignore it she would. She hadn’t come here to fall victim to the slick, shallow charms of a man like Sebastian Slade, no matter how sexy he was.

‘I see you still don’t trust me,’ he said dryly. ‘Funnily enough, I can see your point of view. I dare say there are others on this island who think the same as you. I’ve just never cared what they thought. I stopped caring about what people thought of me some years ago.’

‘Lucky ol’ you,’ she retorted tartly. ‘Would we could all have the same privilege. Unfortunately, most of us have to live in the real world and work at a real job, which means we do have to worry what others think.’

‘But you don’t have to, Jessica,’ he pointed out in a silky soft voice, which rippled down her spine like a mink glove. ‘You don’t have to live in the real world any more, or work at a real job, if you don’t want to. Neither do you have to give a damn what people think. You can do what you like from this day forward.’

It was a wickedly seductive thought, provocatively delivered by a wickedly seductive man. She looked at him, her face a bland mask, while she battled to stop her mind from its appalling flights of fancy.

He was technically right, of course. If she invested her inheritance wisely she would never have to work again for the rest of her life, or kowtow to a boss. He was also right about her not having to worry about what other people thought, especially during the next month. Out here on this island, in this isolated house, she could do exactly as she pleased, and there was no one to judge or condemn.

Why was he pointing that out to her? She puzzled over this. Was it part of his seduction technique, to corrupt his victim with thoughts of a lifestyle of totally selfish and hedonistic behaviour?

He would have to do better than that, she thought with bitter amusement. She’d been seduced before by good-looking liars and had no intention of going that route again, no matter how stunningly this particular liar was put together.

‘Let me tell you something, Mr. Slade,’ she said coolly. ‘I happen to like the real world, not to mention my real job. But thank you for explaining that I don’t have to worry about what other people think of me here. I hope that includes you.’

He stared at her, and she would have loved to know what he was thinking. ‘Touché,’ he said at last, the smallest of wry smiles playing around his mouth. ‘By the way, call me Sebastian, would you? Or Seb, if you prefer.’

‘I prefer Sebastian,’ she said crisply.

Which she did, actually. It also suited him very well. It was a strong name, yet sensual—like its owner. Not a modern name. There was nothing modern about Sebastian’s looks. If he’d been an actor, he would never be cast as a business executive. He would, however, make a magnificent Viking prince, or a knight in King Arthur’s court, or one of the Three Musketeers, with a feathered hat atop his flowing locks.

‘Sebastian it will be, then,’ he agreed nonchalantly. ‘I’ll just get your case.’ He turned and walked with indolent grace down the steps to where it had fallen, his bending over drawing his shorts tightly over his tantalisingly taut buttocks.

Jessica tried not to stare, but she was doomed to failure. Never had a man’s body fascinated her so much before. There again…it was a gorgeous body.

He straightened and turned, their eyes meeting as he slowly mounted the steps. It wasn’t just his body, she conceded ruefully. Those eyes were like blue magnets, drawing her, tempting her. And that mouth of his was made strictly for sin.

Damn, but she hoped nothing she was thinking was showing on her face.

Self-preservation had Jessica throwing him one of her coolest looks before whirling and walking up the steps and into her Aunt Lucy’s beautiful home.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE house was even more beautiful inside than out. Over a hundred years old, Sebastian told her, but lovingly cared for and restored to retain its original old-world charm.

The use of Norfolk pine was extensive, from the polished timber floors to the stained wall panelling to the kitchen benches and cupboards. Very little of the furniture, however, was made from local wood.

Sebastian explained that most pieces had been shipped in from New Zealand and Australia and even England, and were made from a variety of woods. There were fine examples of oak and teak, mahogany and rosewood, walnut and cedar.

The bathrooms featured black marble from Devon, brought over in sailing boats a century before. The bedrooms were a delight to behold, with their carved four-poster beds and exquisitely delicate furnishings.

Everywhere Jessica looked there was lace in some form or other. Lace curtains and bedspreads, tablecloths and doilies. In pure whites and rich creams, the lace lent an old-world atmosphere and blended beautifully with the fine porcelain figurines that rested on the many ornamental side tables and shelves. Overhead, the light fittings were mainly brass. Underfoot, fine woven rugs in earthy colours took the chill off the floors.

It was a warm and wonderful home, with style and an air of contentment Jessica could only envy.

She felt guilty at the thought she might sell her aunt’s property to someone who would not care for the home and its contents as her aunt obviously had. It would be a crime to disturb a single thing. Everything fitted together like a jigsaw puzzle. There wasn’t a piece missing.

‘What a perfect, perfect place,’ she murmured as she wandered through one of the large living rooms, running an affectionate hand along the mantelpiece above the marble fireplace.

‘It was Lucy’s pride and joy,’ Sebastian said.

Jessica’s eyes moved reluctantly to where he’d stayed standing in the doorway, her suitcase at his feet.

She’d avoided looking at him too much during her grand tour of the house. Inside, he seemed even more naked than he had outside. And much sexier…if that were possible.

Jessica had been quite unnerved when they’d brushed shoulders once, a decidedly sexual quiver running through her at the physical contact. After that, she’d kept her distance. He seemed to keep his, too, for which she was grateful. She could think of nothing more embarrassing—or awkward—than his finding out she was in any way vulnerable to him.

‘It’s such a shame I have to sell it,’ she said.

‘Why do you have to sell it? Why not live here yourself?’

‘It’s not as easy as that, Sebastian,’ she said stiffly. ‘I have a life in Sydney. And a career.’

‘You call slaving for someone else a career? You could make a real career out of running this place like Lucy did. She did very well yet she only opened the house for guests in the summer.’

‘I wouldn’t be very good at that type of thing.’

‘Come now. The public relations manager of a big city hotel could run a place like this standing on her head. Now don’t look so surprised. One of the things Lucy did tell me was what you did in Sydney, even if she didn’t say where. She sounded very proud of you.’

‘I see. Well it’s not a matter of capability, Sebastian. It’s a matter of what I enjoy doing. I enjoy being a public relations manager. I don’t enjoy housekeeping.’

‘Neither did Lucy. When she had guests, she had a girl come in every day to do the laundry and ironing, another to do the heavy cleaning and Evie to cook. Lucy’s role was more of a hostess, though she did make breakfast in the mornings.’

‘What did she do with herself all day?’

‘She entertained her guests, in the main. Her friendly and relaxing style of companionship was one of the reasons the same people came back to stay here year after year. Lucy was a very calming person to be around. And then, of course, there was her garden. She spent a lot of time there, too. She loved her flowers. Do you like flowers, Jessica?’

‘What woman doesn’t like flowers? I can’t say I’m much of a gardener, though. I’ve never had a garden.’

‘You would here.’

‘I didn’t say I wanted one.’

‘You didn’t say you didn’t, either.’

She sighed an exasperated sigh. ‘Stop trying to change my mind, Sebastian. I don’t want to run a guesthouse. I am not going to stay. I’m here for one month and one month only.’

He said nothing. Absolutely nothing. But his mouth tightened a little and she thought she saw scorn in his eyes.

Jessica bristled, resenting the feeling she was having to defend herself to this man all the time. She decided it was his turn to answer some questions.

‘What else did Lucy tell you about me?’ she demanded.

‘Nothing much.’ He shrugged. ‘She said you looked and seemed very…efficient. That’s about it. You must appreciate Lucy found out as little about you in your brief meeting as you did about her.’

He was lying. Aunt Lucy had told him something else, something that had made him stare at her when they’d first met. But it was clear he wasn’t going to tell her. She felt quite frustrated with him. And totally frustrated with herself.

Dear God, it was as well he was on the other side of the room, for as she looked at him now, she felt the urge to reach out and touch, to see if his long golden hair was as silky as it seemed, to know if his bronzed skin was as satiny smooth as it looked.

The man was a menace! Why couldn’t he have been rising sixty, with a paunch and a greying beard? she thought irritably. Why did he have to be a golden god with eyes one could drown in and a mouth to tempt even the most frigid virgin?

‘Have you decided which bedroom you want to sleep in?’ he asked abruptly.

Yours, came the wicked thought before she could stop it entering her mind.

Jessica took a deep, steadying breath. ‘No,’ she said. ‘But not Lucy’s. I wouldn’t feel comfortable in Lucy’s room.’

‘Which leaves you four to choose from, since I have no intention of giving you mine.’

‘It’s hard to choose,’ she said. ‘From what I can remember they were all beautiful.’

‘The view is better on the southern side,’ he advised, ‘and you get more breezes in the evening.’

‘Which side is the southern side?’

‘This side. My side. I’ll put your case in the room next to mine, shall I?’

‘Oh, er, all right.’

‘Good.’ He bent to pick up the heavy case, the movement highlighting the sleekly defined muscles in his chest and upper arms.

‘I know you probably promised my aunt you would try to persuade me to stay, Sebastian,’ she burst out, a type of panic invading her at the thought of spending a whole month in the bedroom next to his. ‘But the truth is… I simply could not bear to live permanently on Norfolk Island.’

He straightened and looked at her with suppressed exasperation in his eyes. ‘How do you know that? You haven’t tried it.’

‘You don’t have to climb Mount Everest to know that it’s freezing cold up there,’ she said defensively.

‘Meaning?’

‘Life here is too slow for me. And far too quiet. I’d be bored in no time.’

His eyes locked with hers across the room, and she felt instantly breathless.

‘You think so?’ he said with a taunting softness.

‘I know so.’

‘You know nothing, Jessica,’ he said with an almost weary sigh. ‘Just as I knew nothing when I first came here. But I won’t bore you by telling you about my experience. I can see Evie’s quite wrong. You won’t change your mind. Still, perhaps it’s just as well. You really don’t suit the island any more than it suits you.’

His eyes became cold again as they raked over her. ‘No. You’re much better suited to a career in Sydney. I dare say having to stay here for a whole month has inconvenienced you no end.’

Jessica resented the underlying contempt in his voice. Who was he to judge anyone? ‘Yes, it has, actually,’ she said curtly. ‘I might have risked my job in dropping everything and coming at once.’

‘Pardon me if my heart doesn’t bleed for you. I’m sure your inheritance will more than compensate for any inconvenience. And if you lose your job, then what the hell? You’ll survive till you get the next one.’

‘You still believe all I care about is the money, don’t you?’

‘If the cap fits, wear it, Jessica.’

‘I have not come just for the money!’

‘Whatever you say.’ His expression was distant, as though he didn’t give a damn either way.

‘Lunch in ten minutes!’ Evie called from the depths of the house. ‘I’ll serve it out on the back veranda.’

‘Fine, Evie,’ Sebastian called down the hallway before turning to face Jessica. ‘Let’s get you along to your room,’ he said briskly. ‘You might like to shower and change before lunch. I know I do. I probably smell of fish. I threw away my T-shirt earlier because it was high as a kite, but I think I must still be on the nose a bit. I couldn’t help but notice you run a mile every time I get too close.’

Jessica found some relief that this was what he thought. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she fancied him. My God, the last thing she’d wanted—or expected—was to fancy him at all!

She wasn’t sure why she did, with the way he was treating her. Like she was a cold-hearted, ambitious bitch! Okay, so he was gorgeous looking, in a blond, bronzed surfie fashion, but she’d never been attracted to that type before, not even in her younger days. She’d always gone for dark, intensely passionate types, the ones who couldn’t stop looking at you, who flattered you like mad and were always over you like a rash as soon as they got you alone.

Jessica’s previous lovers had always rushed her into the bedroom before she could draw breath, and silly lonely love-struck fool that she was, she’d never thought to say no, even when the bells didn’t ring and the stars didn’t explode.

She’d long come to terms with the fact that while the men she’d fallen in love with had been passionate types, they hadn’t been the most skilled lovers in the world. They had been impatient for their own pleasure, quick and selfish, takers, not givers.

She stared at Sebastian as she crossed the room and wondered what kind of lover he was. Which led her to the question of whether he had a girlfriend somewhere on the island.

She didn’t like that idea. Not one bit. It was a perversely telling moment.

‘I’ll use the bathroom on the other side of the house,’ he said, ‘if that’s what you’re frowning about.’

Jessica frowned some more till she remembered none of the bedrooms had ensuites. Each side of the house had a bathroom and separate toilet, with a third powder room and toilet coming off the hallway near the living rooms.

‘I think that’s a good idea,’ she said coolly. ‘Perhaps you should always use that bathroom for the duration of my stay here. That way we won’t have to worry about sharing, or running into each other accidentally in the bathroom.’

And I won’t have to worry about drooling over you too much.

He stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. ‘Okay. If that’s what you want.’

‘What I want, Sebastian,’ she said as she followed him into the bedroom he’d chosen for her, ‘is for you to tell me the truth.’