big he blocked out the sun—a massive shadow of a man, with a golden halo outlining his bulk.
Hannah’s fingertips were within touching distance of his. She could feel every single hair on her arms stand to attention one by delicious one. Her feet were tucked so far under her chair—so as to not accidentally scrape against his—she was getting a cramp.
‘Aren’t we in a strange mood today?’ he asked.
His voice was quiet, dropping so very low, and so very much only for her ears she felt it hum in the backs of her knees.
He tilted his chin in her direction. ‘What gives?’
And then he slid his sunglasses from his eyes. Smoky grey they were—or quicksilver—entirely depending on his mood. In that moment they were so dark the colour was impenetrable.
The man was such a workaholic he never looked to her without a dozen instructions ready to be barked. But in that moment he just looked at her. And waited. Hannah’s throat turned to ash.
‘What gives,’ another voice shot back, ‘is that our Hannah’s mind is already turned to a weekend of debauchery and certain nookie.’
Hannah flinched so hard at the sudden intrusion she bit her lip.
Yet through the stinging pain, for a split second, she was almost sure she saw a flicker of something that looked a heck of a lot like disappointment flash across Bradley’s face. Then his eyes lowered to her swollen lip, which she was lapping at with her tongue.
Then, as though she had been imagining the whole thing, he glanced away, leaned back, and turned to the owner of that last gem of a comment.
‘Sonja,’ he drawled. ‘Nice of you to show up.’
‘Pleasure,’ Sonja said.
‘Perfect timing,’ Hannah added, her voice breathier than she would have hoped. ‘Bradley was just about to offer me your job.’
Sonja didn’t even flinch, but the flicker of amusement in Bradley’s cheek made her feel warm all over. She shut down her smile before it took hold. Not only was Sonja Bradley’s PR guru, she was also Hannah’s flatmate. And the only reason she knew how to use a blowdryer and had access to the kind of non-jeans-and-T-shirt-type clothes that filled her closet.
Sonja perched her curvaceous self upon a chair and crossed her legs, her eyes never once leaving her iPhone as one black-taloned finger skipped ridiculously fast over the screen.
In fact her stillness gave Hannah a sudden chill. She clapped a hand over her friend’s phone, and Sonja blinked as though coming round from a trance.
Hannah said, ‘If you are even thinking of Tweeting anything about my upcoming weekend off and debauchery and nookie, or anything along those lines—even if I am named “anonymous Knight Productions staffer”—I will order a beetroot burger and drop it straight on this dress.’
Sonja’s dark gaze narrowed and focussed on the cream wool of the dress Hannah had borrowed from her wardrobe. Slowly she slid her phone into a tiny crocodile skin purse.
‘Why do I feel even more like I’m on the other side of the looking glass from you two than usual?’
Hannah and Sonja both turned to Bradley.
He looked ever so slightly pained as he said, ‘I’m feeling like it’s going to give me indigestion to even bring this up, but I can’t not ask. Debauchery? Nookie?’
At the word ‘debauchery’ his eyes slid to Hannah—dark, smoke-grey, inscrutable—before sliding back to Sonja. It was only a fraction of a second. But a fraction was plenty long enough to take her breath clean away.
Boy, did she need a holiday. And now!
Sonja motioned for an espresso as she said, ‘For an ostensibly smart man, if it doesn’t involve you or your mountains, you have the memory of a sieve. This is the weekend our Hannah is heading back home to the delightful southern island of Tasmania, to play bridesmaid at her sister Elyse’s wedding—which she organised.’
His eyes slid back to Hannah, and this time they stayed. ‘That’s this weekend?’
Hannah blinked at him. Slowly. She’d told him as much at least a dozen times in the past fortnight, yet it had clearly not sunk in. It was just what she needed in order to finally become completely unscrambled.
Sonja had been spot-on. Bradley had a one-track mind. And if something didn’t serve him it didn’t exist.
‘I have the New Zealand trip this weekend,’ he said.
‘Yes, you do.’ Hannah glanced at her watch. ‘And I’m off the clock in ten minutes. Sonja? What are your plans?’
Sonja grinned from ear to ear at the sarcasm dripping from Hannah’s words. ‘I’ll be sitting all alone in our little apartment, feeling supremely jealous. For this weekend you will have your absolute pick.’
‘My pick of what?’ Hannah asked.
Sonja leaned forward and looked her right in the eye. ‘Oodles of gussied-up, aftershave-drenched men, bombarded by more concentrated romance than they can handle. They’ll be walking around that wedding like wolves in heat. It’s the most primal event you’ll see in civilised society.’
With that, Sonja leant back, wiping an imaginary bead of sweat from her brow, before returning to texting up a storm.
Hannah sat stock still, feeling a mite warmer in the chilly Melbourne afternoon. Having insisted on planning her little sister’s wedding in the spare minutes she had left each day, in a fit of guilt at being maid of honour from several hundred kilometres’ distance, she’d been so absolutely swamped that the idea of a holiday fling had not once entered her mind.
Maybe a random red-hot weekend was exactly what she needed—to unwind, de-knot, take stock, recharge, and remember there was a whole wide world outside of Bradley Knight’s orbit.
‘The groomsmen will be top of the list, of course,’ Sonja continued. ‘But they’ll be so ready for action it’ll be embarrassing. Best you avoid them. My advice is to look out for another interstate guest—more mystery, and less likely to be a close relative. Or a fisherman.’
Hannah scoffed, and shut her eyes tight against Sonja’s small-town-life bashing.
‘You’re on the pill, right?’
‘Sonja!’
Really, that was a step too far. But she was. Not that she’d found cause to need it much of late. Her hours were prohibitive, and her work so consuming she was simply too exhausted to even remember why she’d gone on the pill in the first place.
But now she had four whole days in a beautiful resort, in the middle of a winter wonderland wilderness, surrounded by dozens of single guys. A small fire lit inside her stomach for the first time in the months since she’d known she was going home.
She was about to get herself a whole load of time, space, and the chance she might meet an actual guy. Heck, what were the chances she’d find The One back on the island from
