Aunt Lucy's Lover

‘That was a few minutes ago. Maybe I’ve changed my mind about you since then.’

And maybe pigs might fly, she thought cynically, one of her eyebrows lifting in a sceptical arch.

A wry smile curved his mouth to one side, bringing her attention to those sensually carved lips, and where they might have been. The thought that he might have changed his mind about seducing her held an insidiously exciting aspect, one she would find hard to ignore.

But ignore it she would. She hadn’t come here to fall victim to the slick, shallow charms of a man like Sebastian Slade, no matter how sexy he was.

‘I see you still don’t trust me,’ he said dryly. ‘Funnily enough, I can see your point of view. I dare say there are others on this island who think the same as you. I’ve just never cared what they thought. I stopped caring about what people thought of me some years ago.’

‘Lucky ol’ you,’ she retorted tartly. ‘Would we could all have the same privilege. Unfortunately, most of us have to live in the real world and work at a real job, which means we do have to worry what others think.’

‘But you don’t have to, Jessica,’ he pointed out in a silky soft voice, which rippled down her spine like a mink glove. ‘You don’t have to live in the real world any more, or work at a real job, if you don’t want to. Neither do you have to give a damn what people think. You can do what you like from this day forward.’

It was a wickedly seductive thought, provocatively delivered by a wickedly seductive man. She looked at him, her face a bland mask, while she battled to stop her mind from its appalling flights of fancy.

He was technically right, of course. If she invested her inheritance wisely she would never have to work again for the rest of her life, or kowtow to a boss. He was also right about her not having to worry about what other people thought, especially during the next month. Out here on this island, in this isolated house, she could do exactly as she pleased, and there was no one to judge or condemn.

Why was he pointing that out to her? She puzzled over this. Was it part of his seduction technique, to corrupt his victim with thoughts of a lifestyle of totally selfish and hedonistic behaviour?

He would have to do better than that, she thought with bitter amusement. She’d been seduced before by good-looking liars and had no intention of going that route again, no matter how stunningly this particular liar was put together.

‘Let me tell you something, Mr. Slade,’ she said coolly. ‘I happen to like the real world, not to mention my real job. But thank you for explaining that I don’t have to worry about what other people think of me here. I hope that includes you.’

He stared at her, and she would have loved to know what he was thinking. ‘Touché,’ he said at last, the smallest of wry smiles playing around his mouth. ‘By the way, call me Sebastian, would you? Or Seb, if you prefer.’

‘I prefer Sebastian,’ she said crisply.

Which she did, actually. It also suited him very well. It was a strong name, yet sensual—like its owner. Not a modern name. There was nothing modern about Sebastian’s looks. If he’d been an actor, he would never be cast as a business executive. He would, however, make a magnificent 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.