until his pores were saturated, to touch her arm again and feel that soft skin against his. His body had very definite ideas about where it wanted the evening to go.
His head was saying something else entirely.
His head didn’t lead him astray. His diving team knew his reputation for remaining cool under pressure even in the most perilous situations.
Women were more likely to describe him as emotionally detached right before they slammed a door of some description in his face.
Either way, that was why he was good at his job and why he knew that Lissa Sanderson with her feminine curves and clear-eyed gaze that seemed to know exactly where his thoughts were going was trouble best avoided. For both parties.
Steeling himself for a restless night, he focused on that gaze. ‘Okay, I’ll leave you in peace. For now.’
‘For now?’ She stared at him, eyes huge and incredulous. ‘This is my home.’ Desperation scored her voice. ‘You don’t understand … I need this place.’
‘Calm down, for heaven’s sake.’ Women. Always overreacting. ‘We’ll sort something out.’ He glanced about him for the first time, remembering how the boat had looked years ago when his father had owned it. When Blake had lived on it.
Now a blue couch sagging beneath the weight of a jumble of boxes—some open, others taped shut—sat where there’d once been a leather lounge suite. Except for the addition of a microwave, the galley remained unchanged. If you didn’t count the slather of paperwork on the bench. His gaze snagged on a final notice for payment for something or other attached to the fridge door with a magnet. None of his business.
Every square centimetre of the boat was crammed with stuff. Canvases against the wall beside an old tin of artists’ brushes, another of charcoals and pencils. The bunk beds beyond were covered in swatches of fabric, colour palettes, magazines, wallpaper books. How did anyone live amidst such chaos?
Maybe it was the calming floral scents that pervaded the air or the potted herbs on a shelf near the window, but somewhere beneath the domestic carnage the place had a. comfortable cosiness. He’d not experienced anything like it since he’d been a youngster living with his mum, and wondered grimly if he could find sleep here after all.
He should leave the area entirely. Find somewhere else to rent along the coast somewhere while he was in Oz and forget he’d ever seen Melissa Sanderson. Solitude was what he wanted. What he craved until he felt halfway sane again.
A steady drip nearby diverted his attention, a silver teardrop followed quickly by another against the light, and he glanced up. Obviously the leak had been there for some time judging by the half-full container beneath it. He’d been too preoccupied with everything else to notice. Now he scanned other damp patches. ‘How long’s this been going on?’
She glanced up at the ceiling, then away. ‘Not long. I can manage, it’s nothing.’ Instantly defensive.
Interesting. If he remembered correctly, the young Melissa had been anything but independent. Or so it had seemed. ‘Nothing? Look up, sweet cheeks. If water gets into that light socket there we’ve got a problem.’
He saw her glance up, then frown. Clearly she hadn’t noticed the extent of the damage. He looked at the puddle near her feet lapping around the base of the fridge. ‘Don’t you know electricity and water don’t mix?’
‘Of course I do,’ she snapped. ‘And it’s I’ve got a problem, not we.’
He shook his head. ‘Right now I don’t care whose problem it is, the boat’s unsafe—for any number of reasons.’ Now he’d seen the potential disaster he couldn’t in all good conscience just leave her here to fend for herself and go back to bed, could he?
As if to make a point, a flash sizzled the air, accompanied by one almighty crash of thunder that reverberated between his ears in time with his throbbing head.
‘That’s it.’ He rapped impatient knuckles on the table. ‘Two minutes to grab what you need. You’re sleeping in the house.’
CHAPTER TWO
‘IBEG your pardon?’ Lissa glared at him. It was hard to glare when faced with such gorgeousness, but she was through taking orders. From anyone. Ever again. ‘I’m no—’
‘Your choice, Lissa. You can come as you are if you prefer, it’s irrelevant to me.’ His supercool gaze cruised down her body making her hot in all the wrong places. ‘Just thought you might want a change of clothes.’
Then he stepped closer and she flinched involuntarily as memories of another man crowded in on her. Big, intimidating. Abusive. She’d thought she loved him once.
Shoving the sharp spasm away, she pushed at his chest. ‘Personal space, if you don’t mind.’ He was warm, hard. Tempting to forget past fears and let her hand wander … to feel the beat of his heart against her palm. Heat shimmied up her arm and her own heart skipped a beat. She dropped her hand immediately, lifted her chin. ‘I’m staying right here. On this boat,’ she clarified quickly since they were still standing way too close. ‘I should be here … in case something happens.’
‘Something’s going to happen all right if you don’t get your butt into gear and move.’
She bristled at the commanding tone but he backed off. Still, she knew without a doubt, he meant what he said. And she hated to admit that he was right; what would she do if water started leaking through the light socket? Or worse. She’d never known such a downpour. The situation was much more dangerous than when she’d gone to bed. More dignified to acquiesce with whatever grace she could summon up.
‘Fine, then,’ she said crisply, over her shoulder as she turned and walked to her bedroom. ‘You stay here and keep an eye on things.’
‘I intend to.’ His voice boomed down the narrow passage.
Oh. Really? Obviously this superhero was immune to the dangers he’d so helpfully pointed out. Well, that suited her fine. She had enough problems without adding gorgeous male to the list.
She plucked the jeans and the T-shirt she’d worn today from the bottom of the bed, considered changing but decided against it. Stripping now with him only a few steps away would put her in a vulnerable situation, and she knew all too much about vulnerable situations.
‘So, what, storms bounce off you, then?’ she tossed back, grabbing basic toiletries and shoving them in a carry-all.
No reply from the other end of the boat but she could almost hear him: I can look after myself.
And she couldn’t? She hurried back to the kitchen with her gear and came to a breathless stop a few steps away from him. Breathless because the impact of seeing him standing in her small living space all distant dark protector sucked her breath clean away. No, not all dark, she noted, because his eyes were cool, cool blue.
But they were still barriers. And he was still the intense brooding Blake she remembered from all those years ago. ‘I’m not that helpless little thirteen-year-old any more.’ Her cheeks stung with embarrassment. She hadn’t meant to remind him.
A muscle tightened in his jaw and his gaze flickered over her,
