* * *
Jett stirred, rasped a hand over his stubble but kept his eyes closed. Christmas—and the old bad still followed like a dark shadow.
But his sister—the baby who’d ousted him from his rightful place in the family—was a bright light and not what he’d expected. He was still amazed that Breanna had come looking for him after their father had died and she’d learned she had an older brother. She’d been the sole heir to their father’s estate but didn’t seem to want anything from him but his friendship.
‘You,’ muttered a curt female voice. Just sharp enough to cut through the air and ensure he was listening, followed by the sound of fingertips drumming impatiently on the balcony rail.
His lips curved but his eyes remained closed. ‘Hello, Trouble. Taking a few moment’s down-time. Didn’t get much sleep last night.’
‘It’s not your sleeping habits I’m bothered about.’
Her fresh apricot and cucumber scent wafted to his nostrils and he cracked open one eye. She’d showered; her gloriously red hair was damp and kissed elegant bare shoulders. A short black-and-white geometrically patterned dress hugged her curves. Curves he’d been getting intimately acquainted with not twelve hours ago. Curves he might have got even more intimate with if Breanna hadn’t phoned Olivia and cut his plans for the rest of the evening short.
Breanna had phoned him too. Checked up on him. Left messages of concern, then annoyance. Which he probably should have answered but simply hadn’t got around to.
Who the hell ever checked up on Jett Davies?
He caught Olivia glancing at him from beneath auburn lashes. She turned a pretty shade of watermelon pink when she saw him admiring her physical assets, then looked away and became preoccupied with counting the vehicles crossing the Harbour Bridge.
‘You sure about that?’ he said to her profile, his smile widening when he saw the increasing tension in her shoulders. ‘My sleeping habits could be a good conversation starter. Why don’t you sit down and we can discuss them?’
He’d half expected her to decline but she took a chair opposite him. ‘As I was saying...it’s your typical irresponsible male behaviour.’
‘I am male,’ he pointed out. ‘I thought you’d have noticed last night. And yes, I’m pretty sure it was typical male behaviour when in the company of a sexy woman who wants the same thing he does. What I’m not sure about is the word irresponsible. I have heard of safe sex.’
She inhaled sharply, poured herself a glass of water from the table beside her. ‘You really have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?’
‘But you’re going to tell me.’
‘Last night...’
‘Last night...’ He trailed off suggestively and the sultry images hung heavy in the air between them. He had an erection most men would be jealous of and nowhere to use it—damned if he was going to make it easy for her.
She cleared her throat, downed half the contents of her glass. ‘It never occurred to you that Brie would be waiting to hear if you were okay, did it.’ It wasn’t a question. ‘You never bothered to ring and let her know where you were.’
He flipped a hand. ‘See, that’s exactly why I don’t keep women around long-term.’ But he had to admit he saw her point.
‘Brie’s not just any woman, she’s your sister. And I don’t care what you do with your groupies, but you told Brie you were on your way to the party and that’s the last she heard. While you were getting it on with some random woman she was worried about what might have happened to you.’
His brows rose. ‘That woman was you.’
‘And she felt let down because she’d been looking forward to sharing the evening with her brother. The fact it was me is irrelevant, Jett. Just because you’re a famous chef-slash-food-writer-slash-critic—yes, Brie filled me in moments ago, and no, I didn’t recognise you, which must be a blow to your over-inflated ego—doesn’t mean you treat people who care about you that way. Accountability’s obviously not a word you’re familiar with and—’
‘You sure have a lot to say.’ Crikey, she was red hot when she was mad. Fiery. Filled with a vibrant energy to rival his own. It matched her hair and made him want to reach up, wind it around his fingers and pull her down so he could put that tongue to better use.
‘When necessary, yes.’
‘I get it.’ He clicked his fingers. ‘You’re feeling bitchy because I got inside your panties and you loved every delicious second of it and now it’s all over because you’ve decided that somehow it’s not politically correct to mess around with your best friend’s brother.’