Mistletoe Not Required (14 page)

‘It’s past eight,’ Olivia said lazily. ‘Dinner’s more than
ready, if you’re hungry.’

‘I’ve got something we can enjoy first.’

‘More?’
She felt for him beneath
the sheet. ‘You really are magnificent.’

‘Not quite that magnificent, for the moment at least.’ Pushing
up, he grinned, kissed her nose. ‘Wait here.’

This time she didn’t fall asleep while she waited. He returned
with a drink-laden tray and a plate of strawberries. She felt like the cat who’d
eaten more than her share of cream. ‘More Blue Mint Lagoon cocktail?’

‘I wanted you to appreciate it fully and leisurely so I made a
couple of extras earlier.’ He handed her one, took the other and they drank.

He swirled his glass slowly, looking at her. ‘The first time I
saw you it was your eyes that got my attention.’

‘
Not
my breasts?’

‘Nope—but they were a close second. I could feel those eyes on
me as I came down those stairs.

‘And then I saw them for the first time and they reminded me of
this drink. Sea-green with that hint of cool blue lagoon and warm sandy
shallows. I knew then I’d been captured.’

‘By a mermaid.’ She raised her glass at him again, drunk on
happiness. ‘Not a pirate.’

‘Mermaids.’ He took her glass and set it on the bedside table
with his, then stretched alongside her. He cruised his fingers lightly down her
belly, his gaze following his hand until they reached the top of her thighs.
‘They don’t have what you have.’

She grinned. ‘You know, I had an erotic dream about a pirate
during the race.’

He looked at her with interest. ‘I hope you didn’t surrender to
his wicked charms.’

‘Oh, but I did—Captain Jett Black, he was.’

‘Ah, yes.’

Jett recalled finding her dishevelled and dispirited below
decks on that last day of the race. He knew she’d been thinking about her mum
because Breanna had told him. The skipper had made it clear she wanted nothing
to do with him.

‘You were most vehement you wanted me far, far away.’

‘It was an erotic dream, Jett, of course I wanted you far, far
away. How embarrassing.’

She blushed, and he grinned at her. ‘You mean you were...?’

Her chin jerked upwards. ‘You’ll never know, Captain Black.’
Then her feistiness turned mellow and she was nestling her head in his shoulder.
‘Was my asking about your surname that day a problem for you?’

‘No. It just brought it all back—remembering the day I met my
father.’

She lifted her head to look at him, her brow creased in
puzzlement. ‘Brie never told me about that. She didn’t even know you existed
till your father died.’

‘Breanna never knew. She was only a couple of months old. I was
five and my mum had died a few months previously. Of a drug overdose.’ He
shrugged. ‘Past history.’

‘Jett.’ She placed a warm hand on his chest, over his heart.
Her gaze, so clear and honest and open. ‘I think it’s time you told me, don’t
you?’

He blew out a slow sigh, remembering the day as clear as if it
had happened yesterday. ‘It was Christmas Day and I’d been taken from the foster
home to meet him. A kid’s dream come true. But then Breanna was there...’

She kissed the place where his messed-up heart beat strong
against her cool lips, then rested her chin on his chest and waited.

‘I was the unwanted result of an affair. And I resented Breanna
for something she had no control over. So I made my foster families’ lives hell.
Pushed kids away because I didn’t want to risk having them like me then turn
against me because I couldn’t stand the idea of being rejected again.’

‘Brie doesn’t know all this stuff,’ Olivia said softly when
he’d finished. ‘She’ll understand you better if you tell her.’

‘I will. Soon.’

‘She wants to help but doesn’t know how.’

‘When Breanna located me, it was a shock. Family and belonging
and being close to people was new to me. Still is.’

‘It destroyed her when her father came clean,’ Olivia said.
‘She’d lost her mother in a car accident a few years earlier. Everything she’d
thought about her family was turned on its head. But she wants that connection
with you. You’re all she has.’

He tangled his fingers in Olivia’s hair and stared into those
emotion-filled eyes. ‘She has you.’

‘I’m not her family, Jett. She needs that family connection.
And so do you.’

Her words struck deep. He wanted to tell her she was wrong but
the words stuck in his throat. Because she wasn’t wrong. Through her own
actions, she’d demonstrated family love could be strong and committed and
unconditional. And he could have that too; he just had to reach out and take
it.

He continued stroking her hair. ‘I’m sorry your mum passed
away. You two obviously had loads in common and were very close.’

‘In so many ways.’ Her voice turned sadder than he’d ever
heard. Her eyes filled with clouds before she turned away to stare out at the
night.

He sensed there was more she wasn’t saying.

‘What do you mean?’ When she didn’t respond, he was seized by a
fierce need to know. He wanted to hold her close and demand she tell him. ‘I
just told you stuff I’ve never told anyone and you don’t want to return the
favour?’

‘It’s not about returning
favours
.’
Irritation in her voice. ‘Why is everything—?’

‘What’s your secret, Olivia?’ He rolled her over so she was
beneath him. Held her face between his hands so she had nowhere else to look but
at him. ‘Because I know you have one. I see it in your eyes. I hear it when you
speak.’

Those eyes glittered with unshed tears. ‘Make love to me,
Jett.’

No words, just sighs and murmurs and whispers in the deepening
twilight. They made love as if they hadn’t had enough. As if they’d never get
enough.

Make love to me, Jett.
Her
emotional plea echoed in the darkness for hours afterwards and it occurred to
him as they lay in each other’s arms that with Olivia, it wasn’t just sex. It
was deeper than pleasure. A closeness he’d never allowed himself to feel. It was
a connection of more than mere body parts fitting together and it was unique,
like her.

And
that
was the difference. He’d
had sex with countless women but he’d never made love with anyone before.

FOURTEEN

The next morning
they
eventually
got around to discussing their fundraising event.

‘We can’t have it till Brie comes back,’ Olivia said, tapping her pen on the table.

Jett tipped back on his chair, studying the note pad in front of him. ‘So three weeks?’

‘Yes. It’ll give us time to set it up.’

‘So which idea are we going with?’ he asked. As if he didn’t know her mind was already made up.

By the end of the following day their plans were taking shape. Jett had taken her suggestion for a glitzy overnight dinner cruise in Hobart in his stride. It was a fitting way to honour her mother—yachting was in their blood, after all. He’d been assured this luxury cruising yacht was nothing like
Chasing Dawn
and they’d be on the calmer waters of the Derwent River, rather than on the high seas. They were to spend the night aboard. How could he refuse?

And all thanks to a multimillionaire oil magnate from Sydney with whom Olivia had made contact on Christmas Eve. Joe McPherson had listened to her story. His first wife had died of cancer and he was happy to make the trip south before he and his new wife set sail for Hawaii. The date had been set.

She arranged an online auction within the yacht clubs, with the top five bidders and their partners at the end of one week to be the successful candidates. ‘I know that’s not many but it’s a quality night and these people are seriously loaded. They’ll also spread the word.’

‘Whatever you want, it’s your call.’

‘It’s about networking,’ she told Jett. ‘They knew Mum so it follows that they want to help Snowflake and will bid high. We don’t need a crowd, we just need classy.’

Jett would be in charge of the menu and catering and would oversee the kitchen—
ahem
—galley. He’d hit on a few chefs he’d worked with who were prepared to work the evening at no cost and in return Jett would pay for their flights and upmarket overnight hotel accommodation.

By the end of the week they had their successful bidders with twice the amount they’d hoped for promised. Jett took Olivia to one of Hobart’s fine dining restaurants at a popular art hotel on the waterfront to celebrate.

* * *

When Olivia thought she heard her phone buzzing a couple of nights later, she ignored it, burrowing deeper beneath the sheets and snuggling into the warm body behind her. She was exhausted, sleep-deprived—in the best way—and then there was that delicious man lying buck naked against her back. Nothing and no one was going to tempt her to leave her bed until at least lunch time. Maybe not even then.

An indeterminate while later she woke to the sound of her back door opening and footsteps crossing the kitchen tiles.

She shot upright, dragging the sheet to her chin, just in time to see Brie poke her head in her bedroom door. ‘Hi ya, sleepy-head. Oops...’ Her friend’s eyes rounded in surprise and she looked away from the dark head on the pillow beside her. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered, backing up. ‘I’ll just disappear—’

Swinging her legs off the bed, Olivia glanced at Jett, oblivious to the world. ‘The kitchen. Coffee. Go.’

‘Sorry, Liv, I used my key when I couldn’t get hold of you at the airport,’ she said when they were both in the kitchen. ‘I got a bit worried. But I can see everything’s fine.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Who is that and where do I get one?’

Olivia couldn’t help the smile that almost burst from her lips. ‘You don’t recognise him?’

‘I only saw a broad outline and a nice firm slab of bronzed back and dark hair and—’ Her eyes widened again. ‘You’ve stolen my brother?’

‘Not stolen. Borrowed.’

‘You and Jett.’ Her hands snuck up to her face to smother a grin. ‘I thought he was going to Cradle Mountain?’

‘He liked the view here better.’

‘I want to hear everything. Or maybe not; he is my brother after all.’

‘After coffee.’ Olivia laughed. Hard to imagine they’d been lovers for a couple of weeks already. ‘I’m starved—we didn’t get around to dinner last night. It’s become a bit of a habit I have to admit, which is a shame since his talents extend to the kitchen... But this one’s my handiwork.’ Olivia pointed at the slow cooker. ‘Help yourself.’

‘You
cooked
?
You?
For a
chef
? And not just any chef—’

‘He bought me a cooker the other day. What else could I do? I won’t tell you what happened with the salmon mousse when I tried to use the new food processor.’

‘Ooh,’ Brie murmured delightedly. ‘You naughty girl.’ She walked to the coffee machine and switched it on.

‘No. No, it was nothing like that.’ But Olivia’s cheeks burned and she climbed onto a stool at the breakfast bar. ‘Stay for lunch?’

They caught up on news over coffee. New Year’s Eve, the break-in, Brie’s holiday, the fundraiser plans. The renovations and retreat. By the time they paused for breath they were prepping salad for lunch.

‘Hey.’ The Voice. Deep, husky, morning-after voice.

They turned as one. ‘Jett. Hi.’ Brie set down the cucumber she was slicing and crossed the room to peck his cheek. ‘This is a nice surprise.’

‘What is?’ he asked, feigning innocence as he touched his lips to her brow while his eyes twinkled mischief at Olivia over his sister’s head.

Brie punched his arm. ‘You, you idiot. And don’t you look relaxed? I like seeing Livvie pink-cheeked and happy too.’

While they all caught up, Olivia made a salad dressing and thought how it could be—the three of them bound by friendship, love and family. But he wasn’t called the Jettsetter Chef for nothing. He was always off on some new culinary adventure on the other side of the world. He was helping out now but give him a couple of months in Tasmania to write his books and he’d be gone again.

She was darn well going to make the most of him while he was here.

Over the next couple of weeks, funds for the dinner cruise and late donations from the race rolled in. When Brie didn’t have clients, she came by to help with writing up job and person specs for the new staff they’d need and to chat over a wine or share a professionally cooked meal with them.

In addition to Brie’s beauty therapy skills and Olivia’s business and natural therapy qualifications, they needed a fitness instructor, a grounds-person, a therapeutic chef with an enthusiasm for organics and raw food nutrition. A qualified accountant on the books. Building contractors. More.

Jett enjoyed the freedom of working his own hours. Getting down and dirty in the garden. He experimented with recipes in Olivia’s kitchen and gave her some lessons in the basics. Meanwhile he took inspiration from Tasmania’s pure air and magnificent surroundings.

Every night he took a different kind of inspiration from the special woman he shared a bed with. Neither tried to define what they had or how long it might last. He pushed it to the back of his mind.

In the middle of the night when those thoughts and questions refused to stay away, he wrote. Within the week he’d finished a draft of a book that took his writing in a new direction. Its working title was
The Bare Ingredients: For Lovers of Food
. The Blue-Mint-Lagoon-cocktail-in-the-shower recipe featured front and centre. He was also working on other themes that Olivia had helped him come up with over hot chocolate when neither of them could sleep. She loved his idea of
Hot Tarts and Sexy Sauces
while the profits from her more demure suggestion of
Sugar and Spice and All Things Nice
would go into Snowflake’s account.

They’d tried out some of his new sexy food ideas in the kitchen; he couldn’t wait to try out more sensual food ideas—in the bedroom.

After the charity dinner cruise.

Before he left town.

He reminded himself he loved his unpredictable jet-setting life. New cities, new sights, new people. Freedom. No one to be accountable to. No reason to stick around.

Until now.

He frowned.
Now
his solo writing retreat and jet-loving lifestyle didn’t excite him nearly as much as it had. Because now maybe he did have a reason to stay awhile—longer, even. He needed to be sure Olivia felt the same way.

She wasn’t only his lover and confidante and friend. By her own words and actions, Olivia had taught him compassion and empathy. More, she’d made him reflect on his life and some of his decisions. She’d turned a cynical, commitment-phobic, self-centred guy into a better man.

A man who might even take a risk and consider something more...permanent.

He wanted to be with her, simple as that. Which meant putting his travel plans on hold indefinitely. For the first time in his life he wanted to build something that lasted.

And for the first time in his life if it didn’t work out, it mattered.

* * *

Olivia snuck in a quick tour of
A
King’s Ransom
before their guests were due to board. The experienced crew remained aboard to sail the magnificent yacht, which dwarfed the marina with its sleek white lines, but the owner and his wife were staying ashore, enjoying a night at one of Hobart’s top hotels.

Which left the captain’s quarters—a stunning suite of several rooms—free for the two highest-bidding couples. She and Jett, Brie and her partner for the evening were bunking in the crew quarters, leaving the three staterooms for the remaining couples.

She checked her reflection on her way through one of the staterooms. Since she’d not had time to buy a new dress, Jett had organised Tyler to send her something a couple of days ago. A figure-hugging silver-grey halter neck with a thigh-high split. A flattering counterfoil for her sea-green eyes and auburn hair.

‘Perfect.’

She glanced up at the familiar voice; her eyes flicked to Jett, who’d snuck up behind her. She’d never seen him in his chef’s whites and her female hormones sighed. Her gaze gobbled him up as it drifted lower to admire a pair of black-and-white cargo pants. ‘And you look sexy enough to eat.’

He moved in behind her, lowered his chin to the sensitive spot between neck and shoulder. ‘Later,’ he promised, a sinful glint in his eye.

She laughed. ‘We’re sharing space with two others tonight.’

‘There’s always tomorrow night.’

That glint changed from lightly teasing to something darker, deeper. It made her heart skip a beat then falter, and her humour faded. Maybe it was a trick of the light because he knew, like her, that there wouldn’t always be a tomorrow night. Didn’t he?

They’d not talked about the future; it was a tacit understanding that he’d move on, she’d stay in Tasmania. And that was how she wanted it. People were counting on her. Her career was mapped out for her. Her life—whatever happened—was here.

‘I’ve been thinking about that chef’s position for the retreat,’ he murmured, his warm breath whispering over her shoulder.

Dread chilled her blood. No way could she allow Jett to see her deal with the imminent decisions she’d have to confront. To endure his pitying look if she chose a double mastectomy. He was making it impossible to ignore what she was trying so desperately to forget.

She flicked him a too-bright smile in the mirror. ‘I wouldn’t wait if I was you. It’ll be months before the retreat’s up and running. Your plan’s always been to move on.’ She switched topics, fingering the gown’s fabric. Silky, smooth, sleek. ‘Tyler’s amazing. This is beautiful.’

‘Not as beautiful as the woman it was made for.’ His hands moved to her waist, down over her hips then they slid slowly up, cupping her breasts, his gaze following his movements in the mirror.

She smiled back, searching his eyes, hoping,
hoping
to see the return of that flirty glint she’d seen a moment ago. Reminding her that they were just temporary.

‘Your retreat may be a reality sooner than you think,’ he said, then suddenly he was sliding a fine-spun rose-gold chain around her neck. Suspended from the chain was a small filigree snowflake the size of a fingernail sparkling with tiny pink stones.

Diamonds? Lord, she hoped not, but what else sparkled so brilliantly? Her heart skipped another beat as trembling fingers reached up to touch. ‘Jett, I—’

‘Good luck tonight,’ he whispered, and was suddenly gone. As if he’d been about to say more but had changed his mind.

She stood a moment, staring at the gift in the mirror, unsure what to make of his words and the gesture. They’d been lovers such a short time. They’d made no secret of not wanting reminders so why had he given her something so expensive? So personal? So
memorable
?

He knew how upset she’d been about her stolen jewellery. That must be his reason. His words and actions tonight confused her.

‘You okay, Livvie?’ Brie asked from the doorway.

‘Of course. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?’ She pasted on a smile and admired Brie’s backless midnight-blue dress. ‘You look sensational. What’s your date’s name again?’

‘So do you, and it’s Theo. Liv...’ She came right in and sat on the bed. ‘You and Jett...it’s getting serious between you two.’

‘No.’ Olivia fingered the necklace, avoided looking at her friend. ‘It’s just a fun ride and we’re both enjoying it.’

‘Can’t you at least talk with Jett—?’

‘No.’ Shaking her head, she glared at Brie in the mirror. ‘Promise me you won’t either.’

Brie sighed. ‘Okay, Liv. For now.’

‘I want to live my life like everyone else. The way you do. Enjoy a fun no-strings romance with a nice guy. Until it’s time to say goodbye.’ Grabbing Brie’s hand, she tugged her towards the door. ‘It’s going to be a fabulous night. You work one end of the room, I’ll work the other.’

Olivia forced herself to cast doubts and questions aside and get on with the task of entertaining. The yacht was soon swamped with voices, movement and colour as the glitterati arrived, dripping in jewels and high-end fashion. The evocative sounds of flute and violin drifted from the classical music duo on deck. Expensive perfume mingled with the aroma of canapés being prepared in the galley. Wait staff circulated with drinks.

The water reflected a sliver of golden moon in a violet sky and they were about to set sail on a floating palace. But Olivia didn’t have time to enjoy the view, ensuring guests were comfortable on the awesome outside entertainment area strewn with candles in coloured glass pots.