Todd—was nothing like Todd—but she no longer trusted herself when it came to choosing the right kind of man.
‘Nothing. Why would I be afraid? I’m certainly not afraid of you,’ she’d told him when he’d scrutinised her face more closely. As if he knew her secret. He couldn’t know. ‘Thank you. I accept.’
She’d arranged to meet Blake in the living room before leaving for their rescheduled appointment with the solicitor. In her jeans and faded T-shirt. She groaned inwardly. The T-shirt with the two faintly creased circles on her chest. Now there’d have to be an additional clause with the expenses incurred to replace her belongings.
She descended the stairs at the arranged time. Blake had changed into smart casual clothes and her thoughts scattered like confetti. The white button-through shirt, open at the neck, enhanced his tanned skin and accentuated his broad shoulders and muscular frame, the trousers were slim-fitting, showcasing well-defined thighs and.
She swung her gaze to the wood-panelled wall, embarrassed at being caught checking out his masculine shape, and said the first thing that came to mind. ‘Definitely the deeper turquoise. And a modern painting here that encapsulates the essence of Mooloolaba.’
‘You’re the expert.’
His eyes glinted and she knew that he knew what she was really thinking about. His hot, toned body against hers.
‘Let’s get the documentation over with first,’ he said. ‘Then we’ll pay a visit to the bank and then you can go shopping.’
What could she say? She needed clothes. ‘I’m. I’ll pay you back. Every cent. You can take it off my fee when the room’s done.’
‘Don’t worry about that now. But I’ve got some matters to attend to back here so I’ll arrange to meet you at this address later.’ He handed her a card and a key. ‘It’s a building I own. It was used as a prestige car showroom but it’s been vacant a while. I was going to sell it, but it might be a good location for an interior design business. Maybe you could take a look, come up with some ideas and tell me what you think. Don’t forget to key in the security code. Panel’s on the right of the door.’
Her spirits lifted a little. ‘Thanks.’ She tucked the card in her bag.
‘What about Jared?’ He paused. ‘I assume you’re in contact while he’s overseas. Shouldn’t you let him know what’s going on?’
Yes, but she had more than enough stress to deal with right now. Besides … ‘I don’t want to spoil his holiday.’
‘He’s your brother.’
She didn’t look at him as she slung her bag over her shoulder but she felt a vague criticism aimed her way and shrugged off the prickly sensation. What was between her and her brother was none of Blake’s business.
‘I’ll get around to it, okay?’ Tonight. It would be morning in Milan then. She’d make herself comfortable and alone and phone him tonight. Maybe in a few hours she wouldn’t be so likely to dissolve into tears in the retelling of it.
‘What do you want to do about your belongings?’ He sounded as if he was finding his way barefoot around broken glass.
‘Of course I want to save what I can. But it’s probably already ruined with salt and river grime and heaven only knows what else.’ She bit her lip to stifle the sob. It made her want to throw herself into his arms and weep.
And perhaps, she thought, as she moved directly to the door without waiting, that was his intention.
Deanna Mayfield was just the sort of woman Lissa imagined Blake would find attractive. Any man would find attractive, actually. As tall as him, silver-blonde hair, trim figure. Even in her grey pin-striped business suit she exuded a sultry kind of glamour.
If you went for that kind of thing.
‘Blake!’ Her smile was pure toothpaste advertisement. She ushered them into her office. ‘What a pleasant surprise to get your call.’
Ms Mayfield and smartly dressed Blake looked like an ideal couple as they reminisced about a past Lissa had no part in. Had they ever been lovers? She couldn’t help thinking of the bad-boy reputation. Yep, she thought, Ms Mayfield would definitely go for bad boys.
Even when they eventually got down to business it was there. That … something. While Lissa sat within arm’s reach feeling out of the loop, uninvolved and insignificant.
‘We’ll need a signature here.’ Leaning over the desk, Deanna flicked her hair and indicated with a passion-purple fingertip, then passed Blake her pen.
Lissa’s lip curled, then she pressed a hand to the tender spot just beneath her breastbone while Blake signed and passed the pen back. With a smile. The knot was hunger, not jealousy. Good heavens, she couldn’t begin to imagine how many women Blake would have been with over the years, no doubt all as glamorous as Miss Sunshine here.
Then Deanna smiled at Lissa as if suddenly remembering she was there and handed her the pen. ‘Melissa. Your turn, sweetie.’
Sweetie. Condescending cow. Lissa stretched her lips into a smile over her clenched teeth as she took the pen and signed.
Blake dropped her at the Sunshine Plaza with her new personal debit card. The arrangement was that she should catch a cab to the address on the card he’d given her when she was done and they’d meet at five-thirty.
She headed into the mall to buy her blues away. She refused to get carried away however, knowing she needed to repay whatever she bought at a future date. Sticking to basics, she purchased underwear, toiletries, casual wear, a couple of business suits and skirts and a cream jacket. and, of course, the obligatory little short black dress.
She couldn’t resist a tiny bottle of her favourite perfume and a couple of CDs—for therapeutic reasons. At an art shop she bought a new sketch pad, charcoals and pencils so that if she arrived at the premises before Blake she could keep busy. If she was busy she wouldn’t think about the boat.
Fighting the dull pain that had been throbbing away at the back of his skull for the past couple of hours, Blake walked towards the shop. Standing across the road, he watched the lowering sun paint the upper half of the unique building a burnt orange. When he’d bought it, he’d been impressed right off with its central location—near other businesses but not overcrowded—and the interesting canted windows out front. Dodging a steady stream of slow-moving traffic, he let himself in with a takeaway meal, drinks and cutlery in a cardboard box.
The empty interior still blew him away. A gleaming expanse of polished floorboards flowed like a golden lake to cream walls on all sides. But the feature that really sold it for him was the main source of illumination. Two metal wheel-like structures a good couple of metres in diameter studded with down-lights and suspended at an oblique angle to each other and to the floor.
The building had a vaulted wooden ceiling and odd-shaped windows. Their topaz and sapphire glass threw out a rich palette of colours, glinting on the brass rail of the spiral staircase to one side, which led to a mezzanine level, which in turn floated above the rear third of the cavernous space.
It might have reminded him of a church except for the sound of a CD player crackling away with the unmistakeable voice of Robbie Williams from somewhere up those stairs.
With
