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
