By Request Collection 1. Jackie Braun

she’d trust him with her life.

      The sudden realisation stunned her anew. She’d never thought it possible to feel that way about a man again. Armed with that knowledge, she took a sip from her glass before seizing the opportunity in the lull to ask, ‘Are you talking about Janine?’

      There was a startled ‘Was she a friend of yours?’

      ‘No.’ She looked straight into the other woman’s eyes. ‘But Blake is.’

      More glance-swapping. Frowns exchanged. A conspiracy of silence. Awkward moment.

      ‘I hate innuendoes and gossip, don’t you?’ She tilted her champagne flute towards the women, looking at each one in turn. ‘Especially when we all know it’s based on lies and hearsay and spread by ignorance.’

      For a few tense seconds there wasn’t a murmur. Not so much as a flicker of movement from any of them. It was as if they’d been turned to stone. Or solid gold.

      Then the oldest of the three smiled slowly. ‘Well said, my dear. I like a girl who’s not afraid to stand up for herself.’ Looking Lissa up and down, she nodded approvingly. ‘My name’s Jocelyn. Rochelle Everett was one of my closest friends. So tell us how you met Blake and then we’d love to hear all about your new business.’ She turned to the others. ‘Wouldn’t we, ladies?’

      Lissa mingled with the crowd, feeling extraordinarily satisfied. Jocelyn had given her a business card and told her to make an appointment to look at renovating her kitchen. She made two other appointments with potential clients over the next hour.

      Finally, excusing herself from the airless room, she made her way outside to the patio and the younger set. A couple of women in gold bikinis were splashing about in the pool and laughing.

      And like any other unattached male, where else would Blake be but watching on from the decking? Tossing their big plastic ball back to them with a grin?

      The pain that twisted beneath her ribcage was nothing to do with the way they were deliberately throwing it in his direction, nor the fact that he was obviously enjoying the attention. It was just the way she’d tied the length of fabric too tight beneath her breasts.

      He must have felt her glare because he looked up and their eyes met over the cavorting mermaids. He’d removed his jacket and his white shirt clung to his body like a second skin, making his skin appear even more bronzed. She refused to notice. Fun for some. She was sweating contacts and appointments while he was sweating … bimbos.

      Turning away, she headed for the nearest waiter.

      What? Blake mouthed, watching her. Too late. She was already stalking off, disappearing among the crowd, her undulating gold-wrapped hips a magnificent memory.

      He rolled shoulders suddenly gone tense. He’d kept out of the way to give Lissa a chance to do her thing. He knew it was important to her that she make a success of this on her own. She wanted independence. He was giving it to her.

      Though he had to admit he had no inclination to schmooze with his mother’s cronies unless they found him. To his vexation, a few of them had. But he’d played nice. For Lissa’s sake.

      And all he’d got was a glare for his trouble.

      Frowning, he skirted the pool in pursuit. What had he done to tick her off?

      He caught sight of her near one of the glittering supper tables, her expression animated as she spoke to an elderly woman with lavender hair, and found himself stalling. To watch her, simply watch her.

      The grown-up Lissa wasn’t what he’d expected. And different from the other women he’d associated with over the years. She didn’t fawn all over him; she had too much dignity. Nor did she give herself unrealistic airs. She was down-to-earth. She had guts. Moxy. Pride. When she’d lost her boat and almost everything she’d owned, she’d picked herself up and moved on.

      And. for pity’s sake … when it came down to sheer sexuality, she attracted him like no other.

      At that moment some of the guests nearby moved away, giving him a clear view of those attributes. Feminine curves. Shapely legs.

      How would those thighs feel wrapped around his waist?

      Lust clutched him low and hard and his vision blurred. He grabbed a beer from a waiter’s tray as he headed towards her. When he looked her way again a dude in a shiny gold suit had struck up a conversation with her.

      Blake scowled. Typical indoors type—pale skin and smooth manicured hands. Wrong haircut. Apparently it didn’t bother Lissa because her eyes sparkled and that luscious mouth curved as she laughed at something he said.

      Then, as if she felt the heat of Blake’s gaze, she turned her head slightly and their eyes met. A ribbon of heat arced across the space between them.

      But then Midas Man shifted, leaned closer, blocking Blake’s view. Simmering with impatience, he threw back his beer, plunked the near-empty glass on a marble pedestal bedecked with gold-painted leaves and closed in.

      He circled behind her so that he could lay his hand on the middle of her back and lean in close to catch the heat of her skin and inhale her scent. To claim possession. He felt her tense beneath his touch. Then she jerked round, and those stunning eyes blinked. Just once.

      ‘Blake.’

      She sounded surprised. As if she wasn’t expecting to see him there. Damn it. Clearly that look they’d exchanged less than thirty seconds ago hadn’t meant what he’d thought it meant. His impatience reached flash point.

      Ignoring her conversation partner, Blake leaned even closer, so that his lips grazed the tip of her ear, and murmured, ‘We need to leave.’

      ‘Now? But—’

      ‘Something’s come up.’

      ‘Oh? What?’

      A heart-pounding beat. The tiny space between them crackled with something like static electricity. He knew she knew by the spark of realisation in her eyes, which were focused carefully on his. ‘Oh.’

      ‘And it needs immediate attention.’

      She turned to the Midas Man. ‘Excuse me …’

      Her voice trailed off as Blake grabbed her hand and towed her away.

      ‘What are you doing?’ she muttered breathlessly.

      ‘Saving you from terminal boredom.’

      She shot a quick look behind her. ‘That’s mean, he was very sweet … not to mention mega-rich with a mansion to renovate. And we’re here in a professional capacity …’

      ‘Don’t change the subject,’ he snapped. His pulse was drumming in his ears. ‘We’re here as Gilda’s friends.’

      ‘What subject?’

      Ignoring her question, he continued tugging her away from the crowd towards a wide chandeliered hallway, past alcoves where Grecian alabaster goddesses posed until he came to a narrower passage. He found the nearest closed door, pulled her inside and slammed it shut behind them. The party noise evaporated. A lone gold candle flickered on the bathroom vanity and he got a glimpse of his own reflection and Lissa’s wide eyes before he turned away.

      The sound of the lock turning sounded preternaturally loud in the sudden silence and he heard her sharp indrawn breath as she pressed a hand to her chest.

      ‘What’s wrong?’

      ‘I … You startled me for a moment.’

      ‘You startle easily, party girl,’ he murmured. He could feel the warmth of her body beneath her dress, the silken slide of her arm as he twisted her so that she was wedged between him and the door.

      ‘What was all that stuff you said earlier about drumming up clients?’ In the dim light he saw her eyes spark as she looked up at him and