One Wicked Week. Nicola Marsh

of her wealth as some did and their differing opinions often made her evaluate her own more carefully.

      Shame that hadn’t extended to the douche she’d sacrificed her virginity to.

      Brock had expressed his opinion about Deon far too late, on the night she’d broken down. The night he’d shown her exactly how beautiful sex could be with the right guy. The night that had spoiled her for other men.

      She’d tried to forget that night several times over the years by hooking up with guys the opposite of Brock. Rich guys who were friends of friends, guys who moved in the same social circles as her parents. Each encounter had been as lacklustre as the last. Not that she’d actually had sex with those guys but they’d fooled around, indulged in some oral, but she’d shut down each and every time it came to taking her clothes off.

      She didn’t have issues with sex; she had issues with her body. Though after incredible, memorable sex with Brock, deep down she’d always feared no guy would live up to it. That they wouldn’t appreciate her curves the way he had, that they wouldn’t make her feel adored and beautiful. She blamed Brock for that. He’d set the bar incredibly high.

      Which made this meeting awkward before it had begun. It didn’t help that Brock had improved with age. The last six years had brought creases that fanned from the corners of mesmerising eyes so dark they resembled obsidian, and the faintest groove between his brows. His olive skin glowed beneath the bar’s muted lights, the end-of-day stubble lending ruggedness to his classically handsome face.

      As for those lips...no, she wouldn’t go there. She couldn’t. Not without squeezing her thighs together or a stupid revealing blush staining her cheeks. And he’d know. Know that she remembered every exquisite detail of that steamy night; the night he’d worshipped her body and soothed her soul.

      No man had come close since and she hated him for it. Hated that even now, as he studied her with that enigmatic stare, she couldn’t forget his fingertips tracing the dip at her waist, his mouth trailing from one breast to another, his tongue on her clit... Heat surged to her cheeks. So much for not blushing.

      ‘Are you okay? Would you like another drink?’

      He knew. The smirk playing about his mouth screamed smugness. He’d always been too smart for his own good.

      ‘I’m fine.’ She sounded snappish and that damn mouth eased into a grin. ‘When can you start?’

      ‘When do you want me?’

      ‘As soon as possible.’

      It had been so long since her last date she had no idea if Brock was flirting or not. What if she’d misread his smirk? What if he was having a little fun at her expense because she’d been uptight ever since she walked into this place?

      ‘You’re in luck. I’m in Melbourne for the next two weeks, then I’m moving on to a job in Sydney.’ He slid his mobile out of his jacket pocket and scrolled through the calendar. ‘I can take a look tomorrow afternoon, if that suits?’

      ‘Perfect.’

      Some of the tension holding her spine rigid eased and she relaxed into the chair for the first time since she’d got here. She could do this. Work with him for a week or two, get her business up and running, put the past few years as her parents’ general dogsbody behind her and pay homage to Sasha the way she wanted and should have done years ago.

      She hated how naive she’d been, how she’d striven to be the perfect daughter, how she’d constantly sought their approval, how she’d yearned to replace Sasha in their eyes. But nothing she’d done had been good enough. Her older sister might have died eleven years ago leaving her an only child, but in her parents’ eyes she’d always be second best.

      ‘Is it making you uncomfortable, the fact we’ll be working together?’ Brock rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, his intense scrutiny making her want to bolt. ‘Because you approached me and I’m fine with it if you are?’

      Jayda didn’t want to discuss anything to do with that night they’d lost their minds together so she skirted around the issue, giving him a snippet to distract.

      ‘I’m mentally planning all the work we have to do to get this project off the ground and it’s intimidating.’ She flashed him a fake smile. ‘But I’m glad you’re on board because I need all the help I can get.’

      He didn’t believe her. She saw the doubt in those all-seeing eyes. ‘Why is this so important to you?’

      ‘I already told you. I want to help kids—’

      ‘Cut the altruistic bullshit, Jayda.’ He blew out a breath. ‘I’m the last guy on earth you would’ve approached for help unless you weren’t desperate so I want to know why setting up this charity means so much to you.’

      ‘Fuck you,’ hovered on her lips. She didn’t owe him any explanations. This would be a business transaction, nothing more. She’d pay him for his expertise; he’d make sure her IT services were top notch. But she knew him. He wouldn’t let this go. He’d been the same on graduation night, pushing her for answers as to why she’d been so upset, not giving up until she’d blurted the sad truth and ended up seeking comfort in his arms.

      No way in hell would she allow that to happen this time, so she settled for the truth.

      ‘My sister died eighteen months before I started university.’

      Sympathy darkened his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know.’

      ‘Nobody knew. I didn’t want what happened to Sasha to define me so I never mentioned it.’

      Mainly because her parents never stopped: they’d talk about Sasha every single day, singing her praises, lamenting her loss, boosting her higher on the pedestal where they permanently revered her. Jayda adored Sasha too but not once had they comforted her or consoled her. Instead, they’d turned to each other, as insular in their grief as they were in everything else. When they’d finally acknowledged they had another child it had been to lay a guilt trip on her, ensuring she shelved her own dreams after uni and followed theirs.

      She’d been their yes-girl, agreeing to everything in an attempt to make up for being second best. Not that they ever labelled her as such; they didn’t have to. She saw the disappointment in their eyes every time they looked at her, no matter how much she did to please them.

      She’d never live up to their golden child Sasha and it had been one hell of a wake-up call to discover she didn’t have to. Her parents weren’t the good people she’d thought they were and she’d be damned if she tried to impress them any longer. They’d be lucky if she ever spoke to them again considering what she’d recently discovered within their so-called ‘charity’ work.

      ‘What’s Sasha got to do with your business now?’

      Jayda knew once she started down this track she’d have to tell him everything. It didn’t make it any easier.

      ‘Sasha was amazing. Top student, excellent musician, incredible polo player.’ Her heart twanged as it always did at the memory of her sister. ‘She was one of those people who loved everyone and the feeling was mutual.’

      He hesitated, before blurting, ‘You weren’t jealous?’

      ‘Maybe a little.’ She shrugged, deliberately blocking that useless, insidious emotion she’d conquered a long time ago. No point being jealous of a ghost, no matter how much her folks rubbed her nose in Sasha’s perfection. ‘But I loved her too. She had a good heart and that’s what ultimately killed her.’

      Sorrow clogged her throat and she swallowed it, needing to finish this now that she’d started. ‘She took a gap year after finishing high school and volunteered to teach kids English in a small Guatemalan village. It was her way of showing our folks that she wouldn’t bow down to their expectations no matter how much they wanted her to take over the business one day.’

      Tears prickled her eyes and she blinked them