Mistletoe Not Required (11 page)

‘Something’s wrong.’

She waved him off and headed to the door. ‘It’s none of your concern.’

He slammed his mug down and walked towards her. ‘I’m making it my concern.’

She kept her back towards him. ‘I’ve got a cab waiting downstairs. I have to get home.’

Grabbing her arm, he swung her around. ‘I’m not letting you out of here until you tell me.’ Beneath his hand he could feel tremors running like quicksilver through muscle.

Her shoulders sagged, she closed her eyes briefly then stared up at him. They were dry and alarmingly devastated. ‘My home’s been broken into. The police tried to contact me last night and I didn’t answer my mobile because I’d switched it off so they tried my room but I wasn’t there because I was here. I’ve been making arrangements.’

He swore under his breath. ‘Slow down. Take a breather.’

She thumped a fist against her thigh. ‘Yeah? Your house hasn’t just been burgled.’

He firmed his hold, said, ‘What can I do?’

She shook her head. ‘I’ll contact you...some time.’

He didn’t let go. ‘What’s the damage?’

‘A security guy’s meeting me there in forty-five minutes.’

‘Did you have deadlocks?’

She glared at him. ‘What do you think? And yes, the alarm was
on
.’

‘Have you spoken with Breanna? I’ll call her for you.’

‘No, you will
not
. I don’t want to spoil her holiday. And phone coverage is hit and miss up there. There’s nothing she can do—’

‘But I can.’ Panicked eyes blinked at him. ‘We can stand here wasting time or you can give in now, because I’m coming with you. End. Of. Discussion.’

ELEVEN

Olivia acceded with
a nod and Jett eased up a bit and released his hold. ‘I’ve got a car waiting, I’ll have it brought round.’

It was a simple matter to collect his gear and ride down the elevator, send her cab off, explain to his driver there’d been a change in plans and check them both out while she threw her stuff together. They were on their way in less than ten minutes.

He watched her stare straight ahead as they drove the short distance down the coast. She didn’t even drink the take-away coffee he’d bought her while she’d been packing her things.

‘I should’ve gone straight home after the race but I wanted to unwind in the city for New Year after all the work.’

‘Why are you blaming yourself?’

‘I keep thinking I must have missed something.’

‘We’ll know soon. Try to relax.’

She turned silent again but a short time later, her hand slammed against her throat. ‘Turn here.’

He followed her gaze to a magnificent old home almost hidden by trees. They passed through tall iron gates and followed a long driveway to the house. Peeling garden gnomes and fairy statues played hide and seek amongst the foliage along the way.

A vast red-brick and cream lattice structure that might have come straight out of a luxury living magazine once upon a time came into view.

A guy in a car got out as they pulled up near the back entrance.

‘Wait here,’ Olivia told Jett firmly. ‘I want to do this on my own.’ She climbed out and the guy met her a few metres away. They walked to the back porch then disappeared inside.

Jett unloaded their bags, told the driver he’d be in contact, then looked about him as the car drove away. Fantastic views of the River Derwent, garden and natural bushland surrounded the property.

With Olivia still busy inside, Jett followed the scents of lavender and basil to a lovingly tended herb and vegetable garden. Organic, no doubt. Further on, he saw a pool, drained of water, the overhead glass structure grimy and cracked. A gazebo overgrown with weeds. The garden unkempt and parched. He’d have liked to have seen this place in its glory days.

With some physical effort and a sizeable injection of funds this place could be great again.

This place could be the retreat Olivia envisioned.

Right here. Her own home. Had she even thought of that? Excitement tingled along his nerve-endings. A new project, something different that he could really put his back into. Literally. He’d be doing something worthwhile. And at the end he could walk away with an honourable sense of achievement.

He heard the security guy’s car leaving, and, following the sound, he retraced his steps through the bushland at the far edge of the property. As the house came into view he saw Olivia standing in the doorway surrounded by their luggage, hugging her upper arms, and scouring the grounds for him.

Such an unexpectedly domestic scene with the potted geraniums by her feet, her sun-stroked hair moving gently in the breeze, copper glinting amongst the red. She turned his way as if by instinct and their eyes met the way they had that first time.

And something huge swelled up inside his chest and rolled through him like one of those waves he’d experienced on
Chasing Dawn
, leaving an ache to settle uncomfortably in the hollow left behind.

He wanted to run the rest of the way, wrap his arms around her and tell her everything would be okay, but he knew she wouldn’t welcome it. Not Ms Olivia Wishart, equal rights champion and feminist extraordinaire.

* * *

Olivia watched Jett’s approach and she wanted to cry and be weak and female. She wanted to run to him and, just once, have someone be there for her. To have him wrap her up tightly and tell her everything would be okay. To feel safe.

But he wasn’t that kind of a guy. Not Jett Davies, good-time guy and playboy.

And yet... For a moment there, she thought she’d seen...something in those deep chocolate eyes.

Probably the sun playing tricks. Blinking back those stupid female tears, she grabbed her bag and marched back inside as fast as its wheels would go. She made it to the kitchen before his hand on her shoulder stopped her.

‘Whoa, slow down a minute. You’ll give yourself a heart attack.’

His voice, low and steady and rational right when she needed it to be.

His aftershave reminded her that less than an hour ago they’d been lovers but he was here for her now as a support person. A friend.

His hand. Grounding her in reality.

Again she fought that urge to cling to someone strong and solid and trustworthy in a world where faceless people could take away or destroy your precious possessions and leave you feeling lost and empty and abused. She knew possessions counted for little but it didn’t make it less painful.

‘They knew what they were doing,’ she said, turning to the window. Even the stunning coastline view failed to lift her. ‘Professionals. They bypassed the security code then helped themselves. Not satisfied with that, they vandalised.’ Violated her private stuff. She bit her lip, her stomach churning with so much
more
than anger. ‘Who’d do that?’

‘Scumbags, lowlifes. They’re everywhere.’

‘My bedroom.’ Her lip trembled. ‘They tipped out my drawers and...’

‘We can fix it, skipper.’

His voice was so gentle she wanted to cry. Pride stopped her. ‘Not all of it. My mother’s heirloom jewellery. And I’ll never be able to sleep in my room again.’

‘Okay, maybe not all of it,’ he agreed. ‘Why don’t you show me?’ Still in that voice she’d barely heard from him until last night in his bed when she’d seen a side of him she’d not expected.

She led the way to her room, picked up the broken remains of an antique china ornament that had belonged to her grandmother. ‘It’s all so senseless.’

‘Damn right.’

A chill shuddered through her. His arms came around her and this time she allowed herself to lean back and absorb a little of his strength.

‘It’ll be okay,’ he said, combing gentle fingers through her hair. ‘And you’re not alone. I’m here.’

A comfort for now but so temporary. Maybe she could stay at Brie’s for a while—she knew she’d be welcome—except she also knew she’d be intruding on her friend’s busy social life, and late-night partying wasn’t Olivia’s thing. Meanwhile, ‘I’ll manage. They’re not beating me.’

‘Good girl,’ he said, stepping away and pulling out his phone. ‘You’ll need help to clean up this mess. Do you know anyone?’

She shook her head. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll do it myself.’

‘Okay, then. I’ll help.’

‘No. I’ll be fine. You should go.’

He frowned at her. ‘Why do you feel you have to do this on your own? Is it because I’m a male? A chauvinistic jerk? You want to prove a point? What?’

‘Cradle Mountain’s waiting, remember?’ Her only experiences with men had taught her that when the going got tough, the tough got going. All the way to Trinidad—or wherever it was her father had escaped to.

‘You think I’d just walk away and leave you to it?’ He took her hand in his big comforting one and led her down the hall and into the living room, pushed her gently into one of the overstuffed armchairs. He squatted down in front of her so that their gazes were level. Equals. ‘Come on, skipper, talk to me.’

She understood now that she’d been basing her perception of men and their inability to stay and face the bad with the good on one man: her father. She’d not had many other male role models in her life to compare. Except Brie’s father, who’d walked away from Jett’s mother and his own son because it was all too complicated. Both had been selfish men who lacked responsibility and honour and common decency.

‘I’m used to being independent,’ she said. ‘It’s hard to be anything else.’

‘We’re the same in a lot of ways, you and me. We both value responsibility and achievement and independence. Maybe we could try trusting each other more, leaning on each other a little, and see where it takes us?’

She nodded once. ‘And just so you know, you’re not a jerk.’

He laughed, a full belly laugh that rolled over her like velvet and relieved some of her tension, then kissed her full on the mouth. ‘Don’t ever change.’

‘I don’t intend to. I’m okay with who I am.’

‘I’m okay with who you are too. I like that you can turn bad into good—Pink Snowflake’s testimony to that. Let me stay for a bit and help you out here. Just temporary, until things are back to normal. It’s New Year—hard to get tradespeople in when everyone’s on holiday.’

His words sent warmth blooming across her cheeks and inside her chest. She was unaccustomed to acceptance and approval. Guys, even other girls, saw her as a nerdy, introspective individual with more qualifications than she knew what to do with. Jett didn’t seem bothered. ‘But what about Cradle Mountain?’

‘It’s not going anywhere.’

‘I don’t want to interfere with your writing.’

‘To tell you the truth, I’m not in a hurry.’

She nodded. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’ He rose and straightened, rubbed his hands together. ‘Let’s get started.’

They worked the rest of the day, only stopping for a quick bite for lunch cobbled together from what she found in the pantry and freezer. They finished the meal with slices of the Christmas cake Brie had baked for Jett.

It was hard. Heartbreaking. But Jett’s company and support went a long way to making it more bearable. Guys turned up to install a new security system. Late in the afternoon, Jett drove her car to the local shopping centre and bought ingredients for a creamy soup and pasta sauce and raspberry ripple ice cream. He added a DVD for later.

And a
food processor
.

‘You might like to try it some time,’ he suggested, setting it on her kitchen bench.

Where it would likely stay unopened in its box until hell froze over.

Jett asked about her house over fettuccini and a glass of red wine.

‘Unfortunately, it’s been let go,’ she told him. ‘I’m going to have to sell it and settle for sleeping on Brie’s couch before we can even think of buying the land for our retreat and I know I’m going to have to settle for less than it’s worth.’

He chewed for a few moments in silence, then said, ‘This place means a lot to you.’

‘It’s home. The only one I’ve ever had.’

The look in his eyes told her he’d probably never called anywhere home but he could appreciate how it must feel.

‘There are memories here. Happy, sad.’ She took a mouthful of wine, nostalgia blurring her vision. ‘I’d hang on to it if I could, but I have to be practical, not sentimental. The retreat’s more important.’

He topped up their glasses. ‘What are you looking for in a retreat?’

She blinked away old wishes. ‘Something close to the city but not too close. With shrubbery. And a water view. Vacant blocks are hard to find. We’re looking at those prefab kit homes that stack together, so it can grow as we do.’

‘Have you ever thought of using this place?’

She chased the fettuccini around her plate with her fork. ‘It’s too small for what I have in mind and there’s too much to do. We’d never be able to afford it. Have you
seen
the back yard? It’s not been touched in years. The cost for that alone would be astronomical. We need to start modestly.’

He eyed her over his glass then set it down. ‘I
have
seen the back yard. As a matter of fact I’ve had a second look. The potential’s amazing. Think indoor heated pool and hot tub joined to the main house through a glass-covered walkway lined with luscious plants. You have all the basic ingredients, they just need to be used in a new way. You can create new memories to add to the old.’

She could imagine his idea, so tantalisingly real; she could almost feel the sunshine and water on her skin, could almost smell the tropical blooms. An all-weather paradise to lift flagging spirits.

For a wealthy chef with money to burn it might be a possibility, but for her it wasn’t realistic. ‘When I win the lottery.’ She gave a half-laugh.

‘You never know when your lucky numbers might come up.’

‘Yeah, right, with the way my luck’s going?’ She deliberately switched topics. ‘How about some ice cream and that DVD?’ It was on the table and she flipped it over. ‘
Pretty Woman
? You got me a chick flick?’

He raised his glass. ‘The title got me. There’s one more thing.’ He watched her over the rim. ‘Where do the two of us go from here? Are we friends or lovers?’

Simple question, difficult answer. ‘I know we’re friends...’ She met his full-on intensity with an intense gaze of her own. ‘Everything’s so complicated right now.’

He nodded, his expression unchanging. ‘Friends, then.’

He’d agreed with her. No talking her into something she wasn’t sure of. No trying to change her mind.

The way he’d not tried to change her mind on that last night aboard the yacht when she’d told him the same thing. He obviously respected the decisions she made.

She had to admire that.

* * *

Olivia woke next morning with a breathless gasp and yesterday’s nightmare came crashing back. The last thing she remembered was the movie’s opening credits. On the floor beside the sofa and his open laptop, Jett was surfacing too.

‘Morning,’ she murmured, staring into his dark, sleepy eyes. ‘Sorry. I fell asleep.’ Obviously. ‘Why didn’t you use one of the bedrooms?’

He blinked awake. ‘Was awake till four working on a few ideas.’ He stretched, looking gorgeously rumpled and sexy, darkly stubbled and bleary-eyed.

‘Ideas? For your book?’

‘Nope.’ He leaned back against the sofa and watched her. ‘We’ll talk about it later.’

She was ultra-aware that yesterday morning’s love-in was an unspoken conversation between them. She wanted, so badly, to slide down onto the floor and join him. Join
with
him.
Look away, Olivia.

She pushed back the throw Jett must have covered her with and stood, still in yesterday’s clothes and looking like something the cat had dragged in. ‘I’ll see what I can find for breakfast,’ she said, and hurried to the kitchen.