She watched the confident way he approached her, his long strides closing the gap between them, an almost-lift at one corner of his mouth. As if this afternoon hadn’t happened and he was ready to continue with Olivia where they’d left off last night.
She lifted both hands waist high, palms out in front of her. ‘I want to talk to you,’ she told him crisply across a couple or so metres of floor space.
‘Olivia. Nice name, by the way. We never got as far as introducing ourselves last night.’
His voice was casual but when he reached her she realised he wasn’t ready to carry her off and have his way with her after all. He had the attitude down pat, but the darker, almost distant glint in his already dark eyes told a different story. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’
‘What about your lady friend?’ Olivia jutted her chin towards the bar.
‘She’s not with me. I was being polite.’
Frustration seethed in her blood and her voice gathered strength as it rose. ‘You want to talk about polite?’
He took her arm, turned her around and steered her towards the door. ‘Why don’t we walk while we talk—unless you want an audience?’
‘Fine. I’m headed to the marina to check on our yacht.’ Then because she remembered telling Brie to give Jett time only an hour earlier, she injected a composure she didn’t feel into her voice and asked, ‘Would you care to join me?’
They hit the crowded, sun-baked footpath. Jett might have only just met Olivia but he’d known she’d hunt him down. He knew what she was going to say too, because he had to admit he’d been a bit of an ass. He was going to have to smooth things over.
Which was fine with him because he wanted to indulge his eyes awhile and see her again. He flicked his eyes her way and watched the sun tangle in her hair, setting it on fire. To breathe in that uniquely fragrant combination of warm and cool. To—
‘Did you have to be so rude to Brie? That album idea meant a lot. What the hell’s wrong with you?’
—And to watch the spark come alive while she told him what she thought of him.
He liked that spark. It seemed to light her from the inside and grew brighter with passion. It made him want to grab her right here, right now, and kiss the hell out of her and see if he couldn’t steal a little of that light for himself. ‘I’ll talk to Breanna. Explain.’
‘I hope so.’
As close as siblings, he thought. A childhood memory flitted darkly through his mind. His father telling Jett he couldn’t live with him because Breanna had taken his place. ‘Your loyalty’s touching.’
‘And your cynicism’s showing.’
‘Guess it is.’ He lengthened his stride so that she had to hurry to keep up.
‘Don’t you understand loyalty?’
‘Never had a reason to.’ He understood independence and self-sufficiency. Responsibility and achievement. He answered to no one and he liked it that way.
‘What about your staff?’
He frowned. ‘What about them?’
‘Don’t you appreciate their loyalty?’
‘I don’t have staff. Not long term.’
‘I wonder why,’ she muttered almost to herself.
‘Because I’m not in one place long enough.’
‘What about friends? Or don’t you have them either.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘I have acquaintances. No point making friends.’
She stared at him, obviously missing his logic. ‘Brie’s not just a friend,’ she pointed out. ‘She’s your sister. Blood. Family.’
Her impassioned words unsettled him. ‘In the New Year. I’ll work on it. Satisfied?’
‘Guess I’ll have to be.’
‘Hey, it’s Christmas, how about a truce?’
She skirted around a kid trying out his brand-new skateboard. ‘Okay, truce. For now. I don’t want your last night with Brie spoiled by our inability to understand one another.’
‘So where is she?’
‘Spending time with a guy since you walked out on her. She’ll be back later.’ They’d reached the marina where the yachts were moored. ‘Let’s talk about yachts instead,’ she said, and stepped out of her shoes. ‘Ever sailed in one of these?’
‘Took the Spirit of Tasmania across Bass Strait once.’ He spoke of the passenger and freight vessel linking Tasmania to the mainland.
‘Enjoy it?’
He rubbed the heel of his hand over his belly in wretched remembrance. ‘Even with a deluxe cabin it was eleven hours of pure hell.’
She nodded, swinging her shoes at her side. ‘Bass Strait can get pretty rough.’