Bed of Lies. Paula Roe

any right to have. His Mediterranean skin was a healthy tan and from what she could see, not one ounce of fat insulted that perfect physique. It was a functional, red-blooded, well-kept body … and looked far too warm and touchable for her liking. Despite herself she wanted to touch him, wanted to ease out the tension furrowing his brow, trail her hands down those beautiful forearms, over his chest, feel the heat radiating there, maybe even—

      Annoyance chased away the threads of attraction. After her past mistakes, she’d vowed never to let anyone get that close again.

      And now Luke was making himself at home in her kitchen. He’d even mastered her temperamental toaster, because just as the offending appliance flung a piece of toast high into the air, Luke caught it as skillfully as a Brisbane Broncos halfback.

      She’d never been able to judge the trajectory on that stupid thing.

      She laid her papers on the kitchen table. “Here’s everything. You should also know I have a legally binding tenancy agreement.”

      She savored the small bittersweet triumph, even as he grabbed the documents and scanned them with a black scowl.

      But as she watched him read, that feeling of victory slowly leeched away. Three months. Only a blink away. If he was telling the truth, could he actually sell her home from under her feet regardless of that bit of paper?

      This house meant more to her than a roof. It was a home, a sanctuary. It was her home. After so many years of not belonging, it was a symbol of how far she’d come and everything she’d struggled for. And there was no way some high-priced banker with a sinful smile would force her out.

      She needed expert legal advice—except she couldn’t afford it.

      She eyeballed Luke still studying her papers, his shirt tight across his shoulders as he leaned over the table. Amazing how such a large piece of clothing provided so little cover.

      With awareness prickling her skin, she reached for the coffeepot and poured herself a cup. Gently blowing the steam off, she lifted her eyes, only to find his intent on the rim of her cup.

      On her lips.

      She swallowed, lowered the cup and waved to her papers. “Does that prove I’m not lying?”

      “It looks legitimate.” He pointed to a signature. “The agency has a management agreement, acting on behalf of the owners.”

      “That’s right.”

      “So you have no idea who the real owners are?”

      “No.” From the look on his face he obviously didn’t like her answer. “So our next move is …?”

      “I’m going to see Gino’s lawyers.”

      “You mean, we’re going.” She put her cup in the sink, the coffee now a tart taste in her mouth.

      He flexed his back and grimaced but said nothing.

      She scowled. “I’m going to be frank with you, Mr. De Rossi. I am not impressed with you—not by your power or your wealth. I know people like you.”

      His eyes narrowed. “Really.”

      “Yes. Men dedicated to their jobs, their own needs. They think that with one killer smile, anyone can be swayed into changing a decision. They have to be in control twenty-four hours a day.”

      “All that just by looking at me, hey?”

      “I’ve had a lot of practice. And just so you know, don’t even think about trying to charm me. I’m immune.”

      Luke studied her blankly, her stubborn chin tilted up, lips pressed tightly together, hands on hips.

      Classic defensive stance.

      His sudden smile threw her. “So, apart from my job, my looks and my mere presence, you like me, right?”

      A gentle morning breeze took that moment to sweep through the window, curling through the flowers on the windowsill and ruffling her wheat-blond curls. It wrapped around them until Luke wasn’t sure if the perfume came from her or the flowers.

      Either way, she smelled damn good.

      Yeah, hold on there, mate. You need to focus on getting Gino’s stuff out of your life, not be swayed by a pair of wide Bambi eyes. She could make things awkward. You still don’t know what her part is and you need Beth Jones onside.

      Judging by the hostile vibe of her crossed arms and her closed expression, he had his work cut out.

      “Surely there must be one tiny thing you like about me, right? Otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here.”

      She tilted her head with a curious expression. “Why is it so important I like you?”

      “Because then you can start to trust me.”

      “I don’t trust anyone.”

      Luke watched her grab a cloth and wipe the table in swift, jerky movements.

      He could read people pretty well, yet Beth Jones was an enigma. In direct contrast to yesterday, she was armored up in a green shirt and jeans, her hair efficiently pulled back low on her neck. Defensive, yes. Self-sufficient, definitely. Yet he couldn’t quite get a handle on the rest … and loose cannons made him nervous.

      Despite her desperation to get rid of him and the mess she was now in, she hadn’t mentioned cops or lawyers again. He’d expected tears or anger, not this cool, calm logic. She’d even dug in her heels and dared him to prove his story, which meant she was confident with hers.

      His initial hunch was correct—she was hiding something.

      He crossed his arms and tested his theory. “We do this my way or we hand it all over to our lawyers. And I’m pretty sure you won’t like the alternative.”

      She narrowed her eyes, her smile tight. “So I guess we’re about to find out who’s trustworthy, aren’t we?”

      Three

      They got into Luke’s car and set off in silence.

      Instead of thinking about those long fingers changing gears a hairbreadth away, she tried to focus on the things she didn’t like—his arrogant attitude, the way he took control. Those all-seeing, all-knowing eyes. The tension in his shoulders … hard, firm shoulders … That kissable mouth …

      As he changed into third gear, she jumped again, the warmth of his knuckles sending a tingle up her leg. She stole a glance at him. He was looking straight ahead and didn’t appear to be having a problem keeping his hormones in check.

      “So,” he finally said, absently running a finger around his rolled-up shirtsleeve and working the material, bringing Beth’s attention to the tanned forearm underneath. “We’ll make a stop at the real estate agent’s first then head to Brisbane.”

      “What makes you think they’ll tell you anything?”

      “Because I can be very persuasive.”

      Oh, I’m sure you can.

      “So how did you find them?” he asked.

      “They’re local, a few of my clients use them and they had what I was after.” She glanced sideways, taking in his expression. “Look, they’re a legitimate business with an office, a receptionist and a bunch of listings. It’s not like I threw my money at any old bum in the street.”

      “I’ve no doubt their operation is professional,” Luke said.

      “And I have all the right papers, as you saw.”

      “I also saw you have three months left on your lease.” She clamped her mouth shut. She wouldn’t have to suffer his presence much longer. Before day’s end this would all be cleared up.

      She focused back on the road, staring out the window as they moved along