Mistletoe Not Required (12 page)

Leaning on the open fridge door, she told herself she could come up with a cooked breakfast. She never bothered but Jett would want something.

And he was going to discover very quickly how limited her cooking skills were. She lived largely on a diet of healthy raw foods—often by necessity—but she could cook the basics. Very basic. Having a personal chef around twenty-four-seven for the next few days could prove a blessing. Or not.

‘You go shower. I’ll get breakfast,’ Jett said, behind her, relieving her of the problem of how he wanted his eggs cooked and whether he was going to watch.

Maybe he’d already picked up on her lack of expertise. Or he couldn’t bear to look at her in her state of dishabille. Either way, she escaped without putting up much of a fight.

A short time later, feeling refreshed and towelling her damp hair, she followed the aromas of grilled bacon and coffee.

‘Smells fantastic.’

When he saw her, he slid food onto two plates. ‘Sit down and eat while I talk.’

She did as he told her. He didn’t mean to come across so dictatorial. Since Jason, she’d never imagined feeling comfortable with a man who seemed to dominate everyone around him but Jett was different. Unlike Jason, she knew he’d at least listen. Also unlike Jason, with Jett she felt safe. And respected.

‘I did some costing while you were asleep last night.’ He set her plate in front of her, sat down opposite with his own. ‘Ran a few ideas by an architect I know. With thought and planning we could turn this place into your retreat.’

‘Jett...no.’ She shook her head. ‘I told you. An architect?’ She didn’t like that he was way ahead of her. ‘Too expensive. You—’

‘Hear me out. Just close your eyes and visualise. Please.’

‘Okay, but this is
my
baby.’

‘Goes without saying,’ he reassured her. ‘But it doesn’t hurt to have another person’s take on it.’

She closed her eyes.

‘Improve and extend the kitchen garden so that in time, when the facility opens, it’ll supply its own organic produce. Upgrade the pool facilities to include a relaxing fitness area and equipped gymnasium and join it to the main building. We knock down walls and extend the back of the house into—’

‘Whoa.’ She shook her head, her mind spinning. ‘Even with the money we raised on
Chasing Dawn
, we’d only manage a fraction of that
.
We should rename her
Chasing Dreams
.’

He nodded. ‘Why don’t you? Sounds appropriate.’

‘Because I’m going to sell her.’ Her decision wasn’t one she’d made lightly.

He frowned. ‘Doesn’t she hold special meaning for you and your mother?’

‘She’s done her job. I need the money for other things,’ she said briskly, dropping her gaze to her plate.

‘I’ve been looking for a new project,’ he told her slowly. ‘I’d like to work with you on this. You and my sister are in this together, which kind of gives me a foot in the door, wouldn’t you say?’

‘But what about your cookbook plans?’ Your
life
?

‘At the moment this is right where I want to be—working on something different. I’ll still write but I’d like to be involved in this venture.’

She tempered the rising excitement; there was the complication of their relationship to consider, but she was thinking... Having him aboard had so many advantages. Brie could get to know her brother better. Jett would have his opportunity to look at something new. He’d bring a different perspective to the table.

She’d get to see more of him.

‘I’ll have to talk to Brie,’ she said.

‘That’s all I ask. If you’re both fine with it, do we have a deal?’

She agreed and they took their coffee outside so he could show her how some of his ideas might work around the property.

Jett watched her eyes light up at his suggestions. Her response further fired his excitement. But excitement of a different kind wasn’t happening.
I’ve no intention of having sex with you again, Jett.

He knew time and circumstances weren’t favourable to revisit that particular conversation. More importantly, maybe she’d be willing to accept his support for now without the complication of sex getting in the way.

And he had a plan to make her smile again.

TWELVE

That evening, over
the steaks he’d slapped on the grill while Olivia caught up on insurance claims and financial matters, Jett told her to keep the following day free.

‘I can’t just take the day off,’ she told him in shock-horror and set down her cutlery with a sharp clink. ‘You’ve seen this place.’

‘Which is why I’ve arranged to fly my housekeeper over.’

Her brows rose into her hair. ‘Fly her from Melbourne?’

‘An hour’s flying time away and she’s excited about spending some time in Hobart. She’s going to spend the day tidying up at your place then stay overnight with an old friend.’

‘You’ve already asked her? Without speaking to me first?’

‘I talked to her last night when I was making arrangements; you were asleep. I trust her. You can too.’

‘I didn’t think you trusted people.’

‘I trust Emily Branson. She’s a fifty-year-old church-going grandmother. Listen,’ he continued when he saw a protest forming on her lips. ‘Do
you
trust
me
?’

‘Doesn’t mean I go along with your plans like I don’t have a will of my own. Or a brain. Okay, Emily can—’

‘I’ve also made other plans for tomorrow.’

Watching him carefully, she nibbled on a piece of bacon. ‘What kind of plans?’

‘It’s a surprise. But I can tell you a change of scenery and something new to think about will do you a world of good. You’ll come back fresh and rejuvenated. Okay?’

She blinked several times, her eyes growing wide. ‘Okay. But—’

‘Pack an overnight bag—and a swimsuit—and be ready to leave at seven a.m.’

* * *

The early summer morning was clear when their small private aircraft landed at Tullamarine airport. Moments later Olivia and Jett were approaching Melbourne’s CBD in a sleek red helicopter, skimming the Yarra River and landing on the helipad beside a pretty park opposite the biggest casino in the southern hemisphere.

Olivia watched the sleek skyscrapers as they travelled the short distance to their hotel within the casino complex. She’d been told to expect luxury and was enjoying every exhilarating minute, so excited she’d barely stopped to breathe. ‘Where’s your place? Do you live in the city?’

‘See that building?’ He pointed to a white tower spearing into the blue. ‘Twenty-first floor. But we won’t have time.’

‘Oh.’ Pity. His secluded world up in the sky might have given her further insight into Jett Davies but it wasn’t going to happen today.

As they entered the sparkling lobby she wondered what arrangements he’d made regarding rooms but didn’t have time to ask because a stylish woman in her mid-thirties wearing a trim white pant-suit with a multi-hued scarf was approaching with a smile on her glossed lips.

‘Jett. Good morning.’

‘Tyler.’ He brushed a kiss over her cheek. ‘Long time no see,’ he said, then touched Olivia’s shoulder briefly. ‘I’d like you to meet Olivia.’

‘Welcome to Melbourne, Olivia.’ Her handshake was brisk and businesslike. ‘Smooth flight over?’

‘Thanks, Tyler, and yes, smooth as silk.’

‘Jett told me it’s a day of surprises, so if you’re wondering what’s next, say goodbye to him for now. I’m going to be your personal shopper for the next two and a half hours and we’re going to have a
Pretty
Woman
shopping spree in some of Melbourne’s famous boutiques.’

She grinned. ‘Sounds awesome.’

‘Before you go,’ Jett said, holding his hand out, palm up, ‘your credit cards stay with me until tomorrow.’

‘But—’

‘Shopping time’s ticking. The whole purse. Now.’

Knowing he meant it, that he wanted to do this for her no strings attached, Olivia met his eyes as she handed it over, mouthing,
‘Thank you.’
She wanted to stop a moment and tell him how much she appreciated everything but Tyler was already moving off so she settled for a finger wave and a smile she couldn’t have wiped away if she’d tried. ‘Bye.’

She fell in love with Melbourne’s quaint little arcades, Victorian architecture and exclusive boutiques. Tyler informed Olivia she was to purchase something sophisticated for the evening. Anything else she fancied was up to her.

They browsed designer wear. Metallic, silk, subtle, bold. Backless, one-sleeved, split thigh. ‘What colour does he like?’ Olivia wondered.

‘He loves your hair. So earthy colours that bring out its beauty.’ She pulled out an unusual metallic olive-green dress with a sheer bodice insert studded with tiny gold beads and held it up. ‘Try this, see what you think.’

He’d told this woman he loved her hair?
He’d never told
her
he loved her hair. She felt a warm glow inside her chest as she studied Tyler’s choice. ‘The colour’s great, unusual, but the neckline’s way too daring, even with the insert.’

‘I guarantee you’ll love it.’

‘You know Jett personally,’ she said, slipping it on. None of Olivia’s business but she wondered if Jett and the striking blonde had been lovers.

‘I took one of his cooking courses in France a few years ago when I was on vacation. I owned a little café here in Melbourne at the time and we stayed in touch. Oh, my.’ She clasped her hands under her chin. ‘That looks stunning on you. And it fits like a glove. Trust me, it’s Jett’s kind of dress.’

So she knew him
that
well? Olivia would never have chosen it but she had to agree, the gown looked amazing. And how long had it been since she’d spent anything on herself? Not that she was the one spending... The sunburst of beads flowed from the sheer bodice and down over one hip. And if the neckline practically plunged to her navel, so what? It had inbuilt support and this might be the last time she got to show off her cleavage.

She hadn’t realised she needed this day until now. More, Jett had anticipated exactly what she wanted. Obviously Jett understood women. He knew what they liked, knew how to please them.

‘I’ll take it,’ she decided.

Olivia managed to purchase some pretty underwear and a couple of outfits before time was up.

‘Jett and I saw quite a bit of each other while I was in France,’ Tyler said as the car drove them towards the hotel. She glanced Olivia’s way, obviously reading her mind. ‘I’d be curious too, if I was you.’

‘No. No.’
I’m not curious.
‘We...he...’ Olivia tripped over her own tongue. ‘Jett and I aren’t in a relationship.’

‘There were some moments with Jett and me, but in the end we settled for friends.’

‘And that’s what we are. Just friends.’

‘Olivia,’ she said, shaking her head, a small smile on her lips. ‘I’ve seen you two together for less than two minutes and I can tell you “just friends” is something you and he will never be.’

No time to protest because the car was already drawing up at the lobby. A porter collected her shopping bags, Tyler said goodbye and Jett climbed in.

Their chocoholic tour lasted over an hour, starting with a French morning tea and cake in a little café while they learned about chocolate making with a small group of other tourists.

Finally, wondering if she’d still fit into her new dress, Olivia had a chance to see her hotel room when she went upstairs to freshen up and find her swimsuit. The first things she’d noticed were the two queen beds but she didn’t see Jett’s bag. She reminded herself it was her choice to remain friends.

She stood a few moments alone, soaking in the floor-to-ceiling view of Melbourne and the casino and catching her breath. Her life seemed a world away. Her problems non-existent for now. This was a day in a million and she intended to make the most of it.

They spent the latter part of the afternoon in the fitness centre. Lazed in the infinity pool overlooking the city. They weren’t alone—it was holiday season after all—but their interaction was companionable. Jett kept her focus on other topics—places they’d travelled, movies they’d seen, their tastes in music. Recognising him, a couple of women exchanged glances and watched with lust-envy as he rose from the pool, water sluicing off the hard planes of his body, his swimming trunks clinging to his powerful thighs.

Olivia knew how they felt and was relieved Jett had organised an aromatherapy massage for her. It helped iron out the kinks stress had brought on over the past couple of days. But it didn’t take her mind off Jett’s near-naked body not far away. Nor did it stop her from imagining stripping off his swimmers and having her way with him on his lounger.

He was still stretched out on that lounger pecking away on his laptop when she returned. She drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, indulging in the private fantasy.

Sensing her gaze, Jett dragged his eyes away from his screen to watch Olivia in her black swimsuit, hair piled on top of her head, her skin flushed rose and glistening with body oil.

He nearly groaned aloud. His whole body tightened, his blood turned to lava and flowed thickly through his veins.

‘Feeling better?’ He wished to hell he did. Today had been an exercise in self-control, keeping his hands to himself and refusing to think about the bottle of French champagne he’d put in the room’s bar fridge for later tonight and whether or not he was going to get the opportunity to share it with her.

‘I feel
fabulous
.’ She stretched her arms up, drawing his gaze to the undersides of her Lycra-clad breasts, then she seemed to remember where she was and let them drop to her sides, pronto. ‘I need a shower. What time’s dinner?’

‘Seven. You have the room to yourself. I’ll meet you in the lobby at six-fifty.’ He shifted uncomfortably. ‘I suggest you go now before I decide to accompany you to that shower.’

She half smiled, half...
what
? before she turned, picked up her belongings and sauntered away.

Whatever it was he’d glimpsed in her eyes, he had a good feeling that his bottle of champagne was going to taste very sweet indeed.

* * *

A punctual woman.

Of course she was. Everything in Olivia Wishart’s life was organised and shipshape. He stood near the lobby windows, his body in lockdown as Olivia walked towards him. His throat went dry as his eyes feasted on the scrumptious vision.
Thank you, Tyler.

The metallic sheen changed from shades of blanched asparagus to aubergine to sage depending on the down-lights. It flowed to mid-calf and caressed every curve. He thought vaguely that someone had forgotten to sew in a bodice then realised it was some sort of sheer lacy stuff studded with tiny beads. What fabric there was clasped her breasts, showing them off to glorious perfection right where he wanted to put
his
hands.

She looked like a goddess and he wanted to worship at her shiny stilettoed shoes, then work his way up.

She smiled, secure in her feminine knowledge that she was making an impact. ‘Good evening.’

‘I reckon it is.’ He took her hand. ‘And it’s about to get a whole lot better. We’ll walk—it’s not far.’

The tables were set amongst trees lit with fairy lights, the early evening summer sun glinted off nearby buildings, turning the white linen cloths gold.

Over drinks and appetisers they talked about the day. As the evening wore on and the sky turned to purple conversation turned more personal.

And he found himself telling Olivia stuff about his life, about himself. General stuff. His years in foster homes, his time as a sous chef in Paris, but he’d never opened up so candidly to anyone before. Unlike other women she didn’t prod or try to get him to talk about things that made him uncomfortable and yet she was interested in what he did share.

It was later than he’d intended when they finally finished their coffee. He reached across the table, touched her hand. ‘I had plans to take you to the casino in that spectacular dress and make every man there jealous that you’re with me.’

Her cheeks flushed and she smiled. ‘Honestly, Jett, can I take a rain check on that? I’d just like to go on up to the room.’ She turned her hand over beneath his and entwined their fingers.

Her eyes met his, darkening as desire and anticipation brought a flush to her cheeks. He watched the way her lips parted ever so slightly, giving him a tiny glimpse of pink tongue.

‘We can do that.’

She hesitated then said, ‘I didn’t notice your bag there earlier.’

‘It’s there now.’

Her eyes darkened. ‘I’m glad.’

He smiled.
So am I.

In the elevator with another couple they stood millimetres apart, watching the numbers light up as they ascended.

The moment they were out of the lift, he gathered her in and touched his lips to hers. ‘Are we on the same page here?’ he murmured against her mouth.

‘Yes.’ She sounded breathless.

With his hand on her back, he steered her to their room, pushed open the door and pulled her inside. No need for lighting; the glow from the city bathed the room, giving her skin a pearlescent sheen. Eyes on his, she reached up behind her neck. ‘I’m going to need some help getting this dress off.’

‘I was hoping you’d say that.’

He loved the sexy sound of the zip sliding down her back, the warm sensation of her smooth skin against his palm, her little shiver of delight. He drew the dress down and she stepped out of it, leaving her in nothing but lacy black panties and stilettos.

Her breasts. Plump and full and tantalising. He moulded his hands around them, taking their weight, and blew out a slow breath. ‘You’re the sexiest woman alive.’

‘You make me feel sexy.’ She undid his tie, slid it off, dropped it on the floor. ‘It’s a good feeling.’ Tracing a fingernail down his shirt, she stopped at his belt buckle. ‘I’ve never felt sexy the way you make me feel sexy. From the first time we met on that little balcony you’ve made me feel desired and all woman.’ She looked up at him. ‘You were a master seducer then and you’re a master seducer now and I’m afraid I’ve fallen under your spell.’

‘You’re wrong,’ he told her, lost for a moment in the warm sea of her eyes. ‘You’re the spell-weaver.’

‘This—
us
—like
this
...together...isn’t meant to happen.’

No, he thought. It wasn’t. He hadn’t expected to feel the way she made him feel. Out of control one moment, invincible the next. Right now he was more out of control than superhero.