Aunt Lucy's Lover. Miranda Lee

Viking prince, or a knight in King Arthur’s court, or one of the Three Musketeers, with a feathered hat atop his flowing locks.

      ‘Sebastian it will be, then,’ he agreed nonchalantly. ‘I’ll just get your case.’ He turned and walked with indolent grace down the steps to where it had fallen, his bending over drawing his shorts tightly over his tantalisingly taut buttocks.

      Jessica tried not to stare, but she was doomed to failure. Never had a man’s body fascinated her so much before. There again…it was a gorgeous body.

      He straightened and turned, their eyes meeting as he slowly mounted the steps. It wasn’t just his body, she conceded ruefully. Those eyes were like blue magnets, drawing her, tempting her. And that mouth of his was made strictly for sin.

      Damn, but she hoped nothing she was thinking was showing on her face.

      Self-preservation had Jessica throwing him one of her coolest looks before whirling and walking up the steps and into her Aunt Lucy’s beautiful home.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      THE house was even more beautiful inside than out. Over a hundred years old, Sebastian told her, but lovingly cared for and restored to retain its original old-world charm.

      The use of Norfolk pine was extensive, from the polished timber floors to the stained wall panelling to the kitchen benches and cupboards. Very little of the furniture, however, was made from local wood.

      Sebastian explained that most pieces had been shipped in from New Zealand and Australia and even England, and were made from a variety of woods. There were fine examples of oak and teak, mahogany and rosewood, walnut and cedar.

      The bathrooms featured black marble from Devon, brought over in sailing boats a century before. The bedrooms were a delight to behold, with their carved four-poster beds and exquisitely delicate furnishings.

      Everywhere Jessica looked there was lace in some form or other. Lace curtains and bedspreads, tablecloths and doilies. In pure whites and rich creams, the lace lent an old-world atmosphere and blended beautifully with the fine porcelain figurines that rested on the many ornamental side tables and shelves. Overhead, the light fittings were mainly brass. Underfoot, fine woven rugs in earthy colours took the chill off the floors.

      It was a warm and wonderful home, with style and an air of contentment Jessica could only envy.

      She felt guilty at the thought she might sell her aunt’s property to someone who would not care for the home and its contents as her aunt obviously had. It would be a crime to disturb a single thing. Everything fitted together like a jigsaw puzzle. There wasn’t a piece missing.

      ‘What a perfect, perfect place,’ she murmured as she wandered through one of the large living rooms, running an affectionate hand along the mantelpiece above the marble fireplace.

      ‘It was Lucy’s pride and joy,’ Sebastian said.

      Jessica’s eyes moved reluctantly to where he’d stayed standing in the doorway, her suitcase at his feet.

      She’d avoided looking at him too much during her grand tour of the house. Inside, he seemed even more naked than he had outside. And much sexier…if that were possible.

      Jessica had been quite unnerved when they’d brushed shoulders once, a decidedly sexual quiver running through her at the physical contact. After that, she’d kept her distance. He seemed to keep his, too, for which she was grateful. She could think of nothing more embarrassing—or awkward—than his finding out she was in any way vulnerable to him.

      ‘It’s such a shame I have to sell it,’ she said.

      ‘Why do you have to sell it? Why not live here yourself?’

      ‘It’s not as easy as that, Sebastian,’ she said stiffly. ‘I have a life in Sydney. And a career.’

      ‘You call slaving for someone else a career? You could make a real career out of running this place like Lucy did. She did very well yet she only opened the house for guests in the summer.’

      ‘I wouldn’t be very good at that type of thing.’

      ‘Come now. The public relations manager of a big city hotel could run a place like this standing on her head. Now don’t look so surprised. One of the things Lucy did tell me was what you did in Sydney, even if she didn’t say where. She sounded very proud of you.’

      ‘I see. Well it’s not a matter of capability, Sebastian. It’s a matter of what I enjoy doing. I enjoy being a public relations manager. I don’t enjoy housekeeping.’

      ‘Neither did Lucy. When she had guests, she had a girl come in every day to do the laundry and ironing, another to do the heavy cleaning and Evie to cook. Lucy’s role was more of a hostess, though she did make breakfast in the mornings.’

      ‘What did she do with herself all day?’

      ‘She entertained her guests, in the main. Her friendly and relaxing style of companionship was one of the reasons the same people came back to stay here year after year. Lucy was a very calming person to be around. And then, of course, there was her garden. She spent a lot of time there, too. She loved her flowers. Do you like flowers, Jessica?’

      ‘What woman doesn’t like flowers? I can’t say I’m much of a gardener, though. I’ve never had a garden.’

      ‘You would here.’

      ‘I didn’t say I wanted one.’

      ‘You didn’t say you didn’t, either.’

      She sighed an exasperated sigh. ‘Stop trying to change my mind, Sebastian. I don’t want to run a guesthouse. I am not going to stay. I’m here for one month and one month only.’

      He said nothing. Absolutely nothing. But his mouth tightened a little and she thought she saw scorn in his eyes.

      Jessica bristled, resenting the feeling she was having to defend herself to this man all the time. She decided it was his turn to answer some questions.

      ‘What else did Lucy tell you about me?’ she demanded.

      ‘Nothing much.’ He shrugged. ‘She said you looked and seemed very…efficient. That’s about it. You must appreciate Lucy found out as little about you in your brief meeting as you did about her.’

      He was lying. Aunt Lucy had told him something else, something that had made him stare at her when they’d first met. But it was clear he wasn’t going to tell her. She felt quite frustrated with him. And totally frustrated with herself.

      Dear God, it was as well he was on the other side of the room, for as she looked at him now, she felt the urge to reach out and touch, to see if his long golden hair was as silky as it seemed, to know if his bronzed skin was as satiny smooth as it looked.

      The man was a menace! Why couldn’t he have been rising sixty, with a paunch and a greying beard? she thought irritably. Why did he have to be a golden god with eyes one could drown in and a mouth to tempt even the most frigid virgin?

      ‘Have you decided which bedroom you want to sleep in?’ he asked abruptly.

      Yours, came the wicked thought before she could stop it entering her mind.

      Jessica took a deep, steadying breath. ‘No,’ she said. ‘But not Lucy’s. I wouldn’t feel comfortable in Lucy’s room.’

      ‘Which leaves you four to choose from, since I have no intention of giving you mine.’

      ‘It’s hard to choose,’ she said. ‘From what I can remember they were all beautiful.’

      ‘The view is better on the southern side,’ he advised, ‘and you get more breezes in the evening.’

      ‘Which side is the southern side?’

      ‘This side. My side. I’ll put your case in the room next to mine, shall