‘Mr Elliott. I’m Carissa Lewis—your neighbour.’
He halted about two feet in front of her and the rest of what she’d been about to say died on her lips as she struggled not to gawk. If she’d thought he looked impressive strolling across the lawn, it had nothing on the man close up.
Sure, the frown was still there, and the lips had thinned further into disapproval, but those eyes! Dark brown, the colour of melted chocolate—the same colour she happily drooled over every night when she dipped ripe strawberries into the mix of milk and bitter chocolate in her fondue pot, her latest eclectic buy.
Their unique colour was accentuated by the longest set of eyelashes she’d ever seen on a guy, giving him a sexy look at odds with the crinkle between his brows—the one that looked like a permanent fixture.
‘The name’s Brody,’ he all but barked. ‘You shouldn’t get my daughter’s hopes up like that—saying she can come over and play.’
Hating that he had her on the back foot already, she said, ‘I said that she should discuss it with you first, but I’d love to have her over.’
‘I don’t know you.’ His frown deepened, doing little to detract from his good looks.
Though she had no intention of getting involved with a guy for a long time, after her latest disaster in the dating stakes, if someone came along who looked like this—well, she’d have a hard time not taking a second glance and thinking about it twice.
Perhaps if she went for guys who weren’t so safe, guys who were gorgeous and had danger written all over them, she’d have more luck?
This is real life, honey, not fantasy land.
And if anyone should know, she should.
Losing her parents in a freak accident had landed her in an orphanage at the age of three, from where her two sisters had each been adopted out, leaving her to spend a year alone, battling bullies, starvation and a mouse infestation that left her shuddering at the thought of the little critters to this day. When she’d finally been adopted herself a year later, she’d taken one look at her new parents and all but launched herself into their arms.
However, if the orphanage had been a bad dream, living with the Lovells had been a nightmare. For all their fancy clothes and refined manners, Ron and Betty Lovell had been cold, callous people who shouldn’t have been allowed to parent any child. Ron had been an abusive drunk, and Betty a woman who would do anything to keep up the perfect family façade—including ignoring the verbal and psychological abuse that Carissa had been subjected to from the minute she’d set foot in their home.
Yeah, that had been her real world. Paint it any way and it still looked the same: miserable and depressing, a childhood filled with enough bad memories to last a lifetime.
And, also seeing the vulnerable look beneath the defiance she’d glimpsed on Molly’s face, she would do anything to prevent the little girl she’d just met going through half of what she had.
‘Listen, Brody. I’m an upstanding citizen. I pay my taxes, I run my own business, and anyone in this town can vouch for how much I love kids. Heard of Fey For Fun?’
He shook his head. ‘I haven’t been here long, and I’ve had my hands full settling the house and getting school organised for Molly.’
At least she couldn’t fault him for that.
‘I run a fairy shop. Kids love it.’
And she did too. It was her one little slice of magic in this all-round dreary world. Whether it be stocking the shelves with fairy dust or elves’ gold, the latest in pink tulle tutus or silver-spangled wings, she relished every part of her job. And when it came to dressing up herself, for the local kids’ fairy parties, well…she absolutely, positively had the best job in the world!
‘Fairy shop?’ His brows relaxed out of their frown to shoot skyward instead. He made it sound as if she ran a brothel.
‘The best this side of Sydney,’ she said, not knowing why she needed to justify the success of her business to this man. Besides, he looked like the type of guy who would scoff at anything make-believe.
‘Fairies, huh?’
For a moment she thought she glimpsed a softening around the corners of his mouth. However, the movement was gone in a flash, and she knew she must have imagined it.
She sighed and glanced at her watch. ‘And wizards and elves and Santas and Easter Bunnies. You know—all the stuff a guy like you wouldn’t believe in. Speaking of which, I need to find an Easter Bunny urgently, so if you’ll excuse me?’
‘A guy like me?’
‘Uh, you don’t strike me as the type to go in for magic stuff, that’s all,’ she finished lamely, her attention captured by the spark of interest in his dark eyes.
‘Is that right?’
She nodded, desperately trying to hide her surprise. If the flash of interest in his eyes had shocked her, it had nothing on the hint of a smile that played around his mouth. The guy could actually crack a smile?
‘Well, in that case, I guess it’s useless me trying to help you find this missing Easter Bunny?’
‘He’s not missing. He pulled out at the last minute and has left me in the lurch—not to mention thirty of the local kids.’ She tried to ignore the sad feeling that suddenly swamped her, muttering, ‘The rat,’ under her breath at the same time.
Though her sadness had nothing to do with Peter exiting her life, but was for the fact that the kids looked forward to the Easter pageant as much as she did and she hated to let them down.
‘By the expression on your face, it looks like that particular bunny is stewed the next time you see him.’
And then it happened.
Brody Elliott smiled and the effect was breathtaking—like the sun coming out from behind thunderous clouds, illuminating everything within its sphere and warming her in the same way, right down to her soul.
Trying to recover her wits, she said, ‘I won’t be seeing him. Not if he knows what’s good for him.’
His smile dimmed and he glanced away, looking uncomfortable. Jeez, this guy really needed to loosen up. If smiling made him feel bad, he needed to practise more often.
‘Sounds like you’re in a bind.’
His gaze returned to hers and he frowned again, the angry indentation between his brows slipping into place with ease. While nothing short of disastrous plastic surgery could mar his good looks, he appeared so much friendlier when he wasn’t glowering at the world.
‘Yeah. Though it’s the kids I feel for. They’ll be terribly disappointed if the Easter Bunny doesn’t show tomorrow.’
And nobody could relate to how they’d feel better than her. The nuns at the orphanage had talked up Santa’s impending visit for an entire month before Christmas, and though she’d been barely old enough to grasp the whole concept she’d looked forward to his arrival with the fervent passion of a child who had nothing
