The Party Dare. Anne Oliver

      ‘Some might say so.’ But he was proud of his consultancy business. His alone. He’d built it from the ground up, with nothing but determination and hard work and it was the first and only part of his life he’d ever had absolute control over. It was worth a few sacrifices.

      ‘I’ll leave you my contact number.’ He placed his business card next to a row of a dozen or so unusual teapots on a distressed wood sideboard then turned to her. ‘If you’ll tell me your details, I’ll come by tomorrow. I’m presuming afternoon’ll be best?’

      She smiled. A naughty smile that seemed to make him an accomplice in whatever racy plans she had for the evening, and almost had him wishing he’d accepted her invitation, bad idea or not.

      Temptation beckoned with the luscious curve of those full lips. ‘Give me your phone.’

      Holding out her hand, she stepped close. Too close, and into his personal space. Feminine scent enveloped him; the tips of her extended fingers brushed his jumper.

      He stepped back. She wasn’t getting her hands near his contacts list—or anywhere else for that matter. His groin tightened at the erotic thought. ‘Just tell me, I’ll remember.’ He had an exceptional memory for numbers and facts—except right now he was having trouble remembering his own name.

      She rattled off a series of numbers as he walked to the door.

      ‘We’ll work out the details tomorrow,’ he muttered.

      He didn’t stop till he reached the new SUV he’d picked up only hours ago. Sliding onto the caramel-soft seat, he tipped his head back and closed his eyes, lust and frustration building a fire below his belt.

      Hadn’t he stayed away from her? Minded his own business?

      Had it made a scrap of difference?

      The woman wasn’t merely a nuisance, she should come with a warning label. Approach at your own peril.

      So much for working without being disturbed. Brie didn’t have to be physically present to mess with his head.

      Tonight was going to be a long, uncomfortable night.

       THREE

      Brie, an experienced hostess, was running late for her own party. Her plant rescue expedition had taken longer than she’d anticipated. The reason for that was an enormously sexy man and he was still centre stage in her thoughts. And didn’t she love the fact that here was a man who more than matched her height? She set out nibbles, arranged tea-lights and lanterns for lighting later while she thought about her impulsive offer to rent her home to him.

      She doubted he’d expect the use of the entire house but it was going to be a race against time to have the place tidy and the stuff she wanted to take to the retreat packed by next weekend. On top of that, the thought of Leo Hamilton sleeping in her bed, on her sheets, sent a shiver through her, along with the question: did he sleep naked? There was no alternative. It was the only room with a bed long enough and wide enough to accommodate a man his size.

      Two hours before her guests were due to arrive, she drove to the liquor shop. She’d paid for her order, the cartons already stacked in her car with a friendly staff member’s assistance, when she remembered she’d intended to buy a bottle of sparkly to enjoy after work in the retreat’s spa later in the week.

      And there he was, the most recent object of her private fantasies perusing the classiest labels in the red wine section. Labels so out of her price range, she could only imagine the smooth, rich flavour. No doubt the two of them had vastly different tastes. And not only in wine.

      Come on, Brie, when has that stopped you?

      It might be fun at that.

      She picked up the nearest bottle of sparkling white while she watched him from the corner of her eye. She’d glimpsed a sense of humour this afternoon. Even traded flirty looks with him. Whether he acknowledged it or not, Brie knew when a guy was interested.

      She also knew that the moment the renovations were done, he’d leave the property in his agent’s hands and move on to his next million-dollar investment. He was that kind of guy. She smiled to herself. And that made him the perfect kind of guy—perfectly constructed, perfectly casual, perfectly short-term.

      When Brie set her sights on a man, he didn’t stand a chance. But their fun times never lasted long—these days she made sure of it. Since Elliot, her motto was no heart, no hurt. Worked for her every time.

      * * *

      Heat stroked Leo’s left cheek like a glove and the hairs on the back of his neck seemed to move antenna-like in the same direction.

      He knew why before he looked up.

      He’d seen Breanna and her puppy-dog assistant stacking up her car with booze and thought she’d left. But no, she was walking towards him, holding a bottle of bubbly and wielding her flirtatious smile like a challenge. His fingers tightened on his two-hundred-dollar bottle of Barossa shiraz cabernet and, with a vague nod towards her, he moved to the refrigerator section.

      Like an inevitability, she kept coming. He selected a black olive pâté and his favourite cheese—a Tasmanian Brie—before he realised the irony of his choice.

      Too late to swap for a Camembert. Was this some kind of cosmic conspiracy?

      She’d loosened her hair and it slid over her shoulders, straight and thick and glorious. She stopped in front of him, noted his product choices and wielded that smile some more. ‘Party for one?’

      ‘Might as well get some enjoyment out of the evening while I work.’

      She flicked her hair back in an artful, well-practised feminine move. ‘Why do tonight what you can put off till tomorrow? I have some crackers at home that would go nicely with that Brie.’ Her eyes seemed to say the type of cracker that goes off with a bang.

      ‘I’m sure you do. Brie.’ He refused to be seduced by her smoky-voiced invitation with its barely subtle innuendo. To prove it, he maintained his nonchalant gaze towards her as he drew out his wallet. He was all in favour of seduction, but he wanted to be the one doing the seducing. Wherever and whenever he was good and ready. He ignored the fire in his chinos insisting that time was fast approaching. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. As arranged.’

      ‘Fine,’ she said, not looking away. ‘However you want to play.’

      Hard and fast. The unspoken words singed the air between them.

      He waited for Breanna to break the searing eye contact first. The tension stretched out for several long seconds. Only when she finally glanced at her watch then delved into her bag for her purse did he turn towards the cash register at the end of the aisle.

      ‘Afraid you might enjoy yourself, Mr Hamilton?’ she teased behind him. ‘Or is it me you’re afraid of.’ It wasn’t a question.

      He turned, caught her teasing, tossed it back. ‘Not at all. Parties aren’t my scene. Too many people.’ He intentionally lowered his tone. ‘But a party for two...’ He watched the teasing light in her eyes flare to frank awareness and a distinct attraction before she looked away. Score two to him.

      I’m as eager to find out as you are, baby doll. But he had no intention of acting on it. Yet. He’d decide the if and when and it wouldn’t be tonight. Still, he couldn’t help grinning as he walked to the counter and set his platinum card down.

      She followed, stood a good arm’s distance along the counter from him, considering the bottle in her hands. ‘I think I’m going to need two or more of these,’ she murmured to herself.

      ‘Best to be prepared, I say.’

      That startled a laugh out of her. ‘You’re not what I expected, Mr Hamilton.’

      ‘Should I interpret that