may decide to press charges against my ex.’
She scoffed and resumed walking. ‘You can do that without my help.’
He stood a moment, breathing in the sweet nutty fragrance she’d left behind, feeling oddly put out. ‘Damn right, Didi. I don’t need your help.’ I certainly don’t need you.
He’d barely moved when her elfin face reappeared around the door. ‘What makes you think I’d want to help you?’ she continued as if she’d never left. ‘Maybe she did us girls a favour. Apparently you’re not the man she thought you were.’
She looked him up and down thoroughly from his now sweat-damp brow to his black Italian leather shoes and he had the disturbing sensation she wasn’t looking at his clothes. ‘Makes one wonder what she meant considering you’re on the wrong side of the door here. Perhaps she knows something the rest of us girls don’t.’
He didn’t bother with a reply. Didi whoever-she-was could imply whatever the hell she liked; Cam knew exactly what Katrina had meant.
When Didi arrived home she knew she’d made the right choice in not giving Cameron Black her phone number. He was the single most dangerous man she’d ever met. He owned her apartment. He was going to tear it down.
And she had the worst case of lust for him that she’d ever experienced. How dumb was that?
Still in her coat, she was stepping out of her shoes when her mobile rang. She froze momentarily, then coughed out a laugh. Of course it couldn’t be him… Pulling her phone out of her bag, she checked caller ID, breathed a sigh of relief, but only for an instant because her friend Donna was on her own with a toddler and it was well past midnight.
‘Donna, what’s up?’
‘I’ve broken my leg…’ Distress tightened her voice. ‘Trent’s not home for another two weeks and I’ve got no one to help look after Fraser. Can you come?’
Didi rubbed her tired eyes. Donna lived in the Yarra Valley, a couple of hours’ drive from Melbourne—too far for Didi to commute on a daily basis with her unreliable car.
They’d met as volunteers at a kids’breakfast club in Sydney, then Donna had married and moved to Victoria with her husband, but he worked on an offshore oil rig half the time. Didi would have to stay with her, which meant she’d be unavailable for work—if she still had a job, that was.
She glanced at her chaotic apartment and empty cartons. If you couldn’t help a friend in need… ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
Didi threw a handful of clothes and essentials into a couple of canvas supermarket bags. At least she’d managed to pack away her precious art supplies. She still had three weeks before she had to vacate—cutting it fine, but it couldn’t be helped. She wasn’t about to let Donna down—Cameron Black and his big bad bulldozer would just have to wait.
Cameron wasn’t sure which got to him more. The fact that Katrina had stalked him to a business function and left her poison, or that someone—a very appealing someone called Didi—had announced the fact to him at a crucial moment in negotiations.
Negotiating with Bill Smith needed subtlety and diplomacy. And as much as the man pained him, Cam needed Bill’s support to help smooth things over with the council. He might have had that support sooner if Didi O’Flanagan hadn’t announced Cam’s poster-boy status along with her condemnation of Cameron Black Property Developers. He’d had to schedule another meeting he didn’t have time for, but he’d won the older man over at least.
He stared out of his office window with its view of Telstra Stadium and the Yarra River. Didi O’Flanagan. It had been a simple matter to access her phone number through the rental agency that serviced the building and cross-reference it with the catering firm he always used. Apparently it hadn’t taken Bill long either because when he’d rung they assured Cam she was no longer working with their company and did Cam wish to file a complaint as well?
Of course the name rang a bell—she lived in the building she’d been fighting for. It was due for major renovation in two weeks. They’d been served eviction notices as soon as the project had been finalised months ago. And they’d all vacated the premises except for Miss O’Flanagan in apartment six.
He expelled a long breath. She didn’t deserve to lose her job for having the guts to stand up for her beliefs, however misguided they were in this particular circumstance. And she’d done him a favour by removing his photo. She obviously cared about others and respected their rights—even his, he thought, with a wry twist of his lips.
He wanted a chance to explain his vision for the development and the reasons behind it. If she’d stop for one second and listen, that was. As for living arrangements…maybe he could speed things up if she was having trouble finding a place. Find her an apartment in one of his complexes somewhere.
On the other side of the city.
The warning rang in his head. Yeah. The further away, the better.
Because he had a feeling this little pixie could run amok over his well-ordered life—the life he’d built from scratch—with just one look from her silver eyes or one word from that tempt-me mouth.
CHAPTER TWO
Two weeks later
IT WAS a night for disasters.
Rain pelted the pavement, but that was Melbourne.
Didi’s apartment building was all locked up—one week early—and that was entirely Cameron Black’s work and the reason she now huddled on the front steps thinking of ways she might enjoy killing him. Slowly. After she got her stuff out.
She’d had to abandon her excuse for a car on the other side of the city with some sort of mechanical failure that no one was willing to look at until tomorrow. Not that she had any hope of paying for repairs since she’d learned she was now unemployed when she’d rung to explain why she wouldn’t be able to work for the next couple of weeks.
So she considered the fact that she’d managed the rest of the way by public transport with a bag of clothing and a box of abandoned and distressed young cat she’d found beside a public toilet block a minor miracle.
Only to find herself locked out of her own apartment.
And she couldn’t ring anyone from here because in her rush to help Donna she’d left her mobile behind in her apartment somewhere. She’d had to make do with Donna’s landline for the past two weeks.
The busy inner suburban street was awash with wet colour, the untidy web of overhead cables dripped moisture. Trams jostled amongst the steady stream of vehicles on their way home, pedestrians huddled under umbrellas, and the aroma of Asian takeaway steamed the air. She’d kill for a fried rice about now.
At least it was relatively dry here on the top step—an awning shielded her from the worst of the weather. She pulled out the tuna sandwiches she’d bought earlier, feeding the cat tiny portions through a peephole she’d created in the side of the box. Sometime soon she was going to have to find somewhere for the little guy to pee.
‘It’ll be okay, Charlie,’ she said, popping a bite into her own mouth, feeling more and more incensed with every passing
