The Party Dare. Anne Oliver

the other way around.’

      ‘Really? With those interpersonal skills I witnessed last week?’

      ‘I was in a hurry.’

      ‘Because of me?’

      He made a strangled sound, cleared his throat again. ‘No excuses. I apologise.’

      Hmm, uncomfortable. How charmingly appealing. She loved having that effect on a man. Her resolve to keep her distance was weakening by the second. ‘Accepted. You had a plane to catch, right?’

      ‘Correct.’

      ‘And a date waiting?’

      ‘Not precisely. Are you always this...?’ He seemed to struggle for the word.

      ‘Straightforward?’ Not the word he’d have used, she’d wager, and his ‘not precisely’ answer clarified nothing. ‘Pretty much. You mentioned this was an investment, so will you be here often?’

      They stopped at the shed and unloaded the pots.

      ‘I’ll be stopping by to check on the progress. And I’ve just taken on some new clients in Tasmania so I’ll be on the island most of the time. Where do you want the aloe vera?’

      ‘Inside the conservatory. Thanks.’

      She watched him push the trolley to the rear of the house, then, once inside, she helped him unload the pot where she wanted it. ‘Would you like something to drink? I have a chilled fruit tisane in the fridge.’

      He regarded her blankly. ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’

      ‘Sure? It’s a very refreshing beverage.’

      ‘I’m a coffee man, myself. And I’m due to check out some rental accommodation in the Arcade Apartments.’ He checked his watch, displaying a thick wrist dusted with dark hair. ‘Twenty minutes ago.’ Grimacing, he yanked out his phone, sent a voice message apologising and advising he’d make a time later this afternoon.

      Millionaire’s accommodation, the Arcade. ‘Where are you staying at the moment?’

      ‘A bed and breakfast two minutes away.’

      She nodded. ‘That’ll be Hannah’s Hideaway. How much are you paying for an apartment at the Arcade?’

      ‘More than it’s worth.’ He spoke briskly, pocketed his phone with a similar movement. ‘Proximity’s important.’

      Brie, always on the lookout for extra funds for Pink Snowflake, came up with an instant light-bulb idea. ‘How long are you looking at?’

      ‘Few weeks.’ A tiny frown dug between his brows. ‘Why?’

      ‘What would you say to living right next door?’

      ‘I’m not interested in a room.’ Penetrating eyes considered hers and he took his time answering. ‘If that’s what you’re offering.’

      ‘I’m not offering you a room.’ She matched his gaze. ‘My brother, Jett, and my best friend, Olivia, are on their honeymoon and I’m house-sitting their new health retreat from next week for a couple of months or thereabouts. It’s totally flexible. So, you could stay here, have the entire place to yourself and the rent money could go to the Pink Snowflake Foundation instead of the Arcade owner’s over-inflated bank account.’ She grinned at her own ingenuity. ‘It’s win-win.’

      ‘Hmm.’ He squatted in front of the blue pot, tested its stability on the uneven green tiles recycled from the sixties and laid with her own fair hands. ‘What’s the Pink Snowflake Foundation?’

      ‘Jett and Olivia are opening a luxury holistic retreat for cancer patients to recuperate after their treatment and Pink Snowflake is Olivia’s project of love that made the whole thing possible. It’s ahead of schedule but the happy couple are overseas. They asked me if I’d like to spend a few nights a week there. Soak in the spa, enjoy the pool and solarium. Use the gym. Explore their private cellar. Naturally I couldn’t refuse.’

      ‘Naturally.’ The tone was dry. Rising, he hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets and looked about. ‘You own this place? You live here alone?’

      She nodded. ‘I inherited it when my parents died and, yes, I live alone.’

      ‘So I’d have the entire place to myself? No unexpected interruptions. Until the job’s done?’

      ‘All yours. Although I may need to come by and collect the odd outfit or whatever. But you’d have all the keys and I’d ring first. I wouldn’t just drop in.’ Unless you invited me.

      As if he’d heard her private thought, his eyes dropped to her mouth. He looked away fast, checked his watch again and she pounced before he could refuse. ‘When would you want it by?’

      His eyes flicked back to hers. This time they held. ‘Next weekend.’

      Was it her imagination or was there something in the way he said that? A glint rapidly masked behind that quicksilver gaze?

      ‘Sold,’ she told him before she could think of all the reasons why inviting a man she knew nothing about—except that he turned her on—into her private sanctuary might be a bad idea. ‘The Pink Snowflake Foundation thanks you.’

      ‘Okay, we’ll give it a try,’ he said finally. ‘I’m all for a good cause.’ He pulled out his mobile, cancelled his appointment with the Arcade rep.

      ‘“We” as in you and a partner?’ Brie spoke more sharply than she meant to.

      ‘“We” as in you and me.’ The way he linked them together in that low, husky voice while he held her gaze prisoner made her pulse race with excitement. ‘I want to see it,’ he said, sliding his mobile back into his pocket. ‘If it’s not an inconvenience.’

      ‘Not at all.’ She gestured him towards the far side of the conservatory while she got herself under control. ‘Family area’s through here. Layout’s the same as yours,’ she said, whisking a basket of washing off the sofa as she passed. ‘Have a seat and I’ll get you a drink. I have fourteen kinds of tea, hot or cold— Oops, you’re a coffee m—’

      ‘Thanks, but there’s no need,’ she heard him say. ‘I’m meeting my architect in ten.’

      The busy blonde with the over-exposed boobs. ‘Chris.’ She raised a brow. ‘Thought you weren’t planning any major changes?’

      ‘Just that kitchen wall I told you a...bout...’ Leo’s voice trailed off as he took in the visuals. He’d walked into chaos.

      What appeared to be an entire wardrobe of party dresses was strewn across an armchair. As he entered the kitchen, a variety of foodstuffs covered every available surface but he had no idea what she intended cooking. He gave a mental shudder, comparing it with his own ordered world, from his computer files to his DVD collection to the way he arranged his ties.

      Had she thought this idea through? He doubted it. By all appearances, it seemed she was one of those impulsive people who never stood still, gravitating from one interest to the next as the whim took her.

      ‘Excuse the mess. I’ve been experimenting with some nature-based facial masks and steams.’

      Which explained the bowl of pink mash that smelled like strawberries and peppermint. But not the fifty or so plastic beer and wine glasses stacked alongside a large box of Moroccan lanterns. ‘I’ll come back later,’ he told her. When he’d reconsidered.

      ‘Hey, if you’re in a hurry now, why don’t you come by this evening? I’m having a party—ten o’clock on—you could check out the place then.’

      Fine for some. He had a Saturday night date with his laptop. To ease the pain, he was planning to help the evening along with a nice Tasmanian Cabernet Shiraz. He intended stopping at the trendy upmarket bottle shop he’d seen nearby. But that wasn’t the only reason. An evening with Breanna Black in party mode was