First Time Lucky? - Page 3

She gaped. ‘You’re currently homeless?’

‘No, but you were right, I like the privacy of this place.’

‘I know.’ She smiled, suddenly filled with excitement about her future.

He jerked a nod, turning abruptly away. ‘Right, I’d better let you get on and finish.’

‘You don’t want to see the rest of the house?’

‘I’ll check it out tomorrow.’

‘Okay, once the lawyer thing is done, I’ll arrange access for you through the garage so you can get all your stuff in.’

‘I’d appreciate that,’ he said in a voice loaded with irony.

She tried to slow her out-of-control heartbeat with some sensible thought. The guy was now her tenant meaning she’d better put all her sizzle response in an ice-bucket. Not going to screw up this deal. Soon she’d be free to go overseas and discover all the way hotter guys out there … except she doubted there’d be a hotter male on the whole planet.

‘Do you want to go through the gate or back through the hedge?’ He hadn’t seen the back of the house or the garden, and she wanted to witness his surprise.

‘I’ll go through the hedge, try to push some of those branches back into place for you.’

‘You’re sure?’ She was disappointed; she’d been looking forward to a smug moment. It was likely to be her one and only with him.

‘The hedge is your security system, right?’

Okay, so he was astute as well as gorgeous. ‘I guess.’ She shrugged as if it didn’t matter so much.

‘Then I’ll cover up the stomping great path I just smashed through it. Wouldn’t want anyone else creeping up on you in there and giving you a fright.’

‘Good thing I didn’t strip off to do the shower, otherwise it might have been you who got the fright.’ She giggled, a high embarrassed sound that was embarrassing in itself.

To her surprise, his brief smile seemed as embarrassed and he moved quickly away from her and headed back into the prickly hedge.

Yeah, real clanger. Mortification cooled her right down as she was rudely reminded that Man of the Millennium didn’t see her as a woman at all. Shaking her head at her gaucheness, she went back to the bathroom to rinse away the last of the cleaner. She glanced in the mirror and O-M-freaking-G. While her red-rimmed and bloodshot eyes were bad enough, her transparent-when-wet vest-top meant all-out wince city. Somehow the effect seemed more revealing than straight nudity, yet Gabe-the-gorgeous hadn’t even blinked. Instead he’d been very particular to look at her face. She figured it had been born from courtesy or something. Or more like utter disinterest given her lack of spectacular in the boobs department. Yeah, that was it. Great. The first mindblowingly handsome man to cross her path and she hadn’t even been able to tempt him into a second look at her near-naked torso. She wondered what she needed to make someone like him do a double take.

She pulled her hair out of its dreary pony-tail and sighed at the straggly mess. No wonder he hadn’t blinked. She tousled it with her fingers, imagining a new cut and colour. Then she looked at her chest and mentally fastened a cleavage-creating booster bra. Yeah, it was beyond time to glam up. No doubt the sensible thing would be to put that wad of cash in the bank tomorrow but she’d been without for so long and, damn it, now she had the certainty of a monthly rental income she could splurge, right? Just for once? She’d save all she needed in no time and this way she’d look great for her audition. She’d buy some other things to celebrate with too.

Re-energised, she put her music on and rehearsed one last time—danced hard out until she could dance no more. She slithered to the floor, resting her back against the old tree, and almost immediately thought of him. She heard the amused, low voice in her ear, felt the firmness of his touch. Then she remembered his impassive expression and determination seized her anew. No more would she be that invisible.

Her work at the Treehouse was finally done; now she deserved some fun. It wasn’t just for the audition that she was going to look fabulous—the next time they met, she was so getting a second glance from her hot, built tenant.

Hell, make that a third.

CHAPTER TWO

GABE got to work mid-afternoon, having spent the morning boxing up the few personal possessions he cared enough about and managing the shift in only two trips. Now, as he got out of his car he heard the music blaring through the speakers into the stadium. Damn, he’d hoped they’d have finished by now. He strode along the corridors to his office and shut the door. He flicked on his computer and checked his email. Excellent, the test results he’d been waiting for had landed. He settled more comfortably in his chair and started to work through them. But his door was flung open less than ten minutes later.

‘Gabe, good you’re here, I need you to take a look at one of these girls.’ Dion, the stadium CEO. Dion who had no problem watching the wannabe dancers auditioning.

‘No.’ Gabe didn’t even glance up from his computer.

‘Seriously, I need you. Bee sting. Looks like she’s allergic.’

‘Oh, you’ve got to be kidding. A bee sting?’ Gabe growled. ‘That would have to rank as the most pathetic attempt ever.’

‘But genuine. You really—’

‘Dion,’ Gabe interrupted, still staring at his screen, ‘I’ve seen sprained ankles, sore calves, strained wrists. All fake. But a bee sting is a first. Certainly more inventive … if it weren’t for the fact that there are no bees on that pitch. They’re banned from play with chemical spray.’

‘Gabe—’

‘Come on,’ Gabe sighed with weary sarcasm. ‘I don’t want to deal with another desperate-to-date dancer. Enough, okay?’

More than enough. After causing a cold war in his family for a few years over his refusal to conform to tradition, and the horror of an ex-lover psycho stalking him, Gabe had learned a couple of things. Firstly, he wasn’t limiting his life by getting married and therefore having to compromise on his own goals for the rest of his days. And to be sure of escaping that noose, he knew he had to make his intentions clear from the start, to only seek company from the equally sophisticated and never mess with a woman who had anything to do with his workplace. Especially this workplace where temptation, exacerbated by all the travel, was too much for most men anyway. He’d seen it so many times—embarrassingly short marriages, even more embarrassing scandals.

‘I should have told you I’d brought her with me.’ With a wicked grin Dion stepped further in and too late Gabe saw the smaller figure behind him. ‘And for the record, I had to drag her here. She reckons she’s fine but I don’t agree.’

Oh, great. Gabe winced. The girl had to have heard every word. Still, that was probably good—dispelling any ideas she might have had. He pushed out from behind his desk and shot the departing Dion a foul look. Dion merel

y winked.

Gabe looked at his new patient. Her head was bent so he couldn’t see her face. Naturally she was blonde. And naturally the blonde wasn’t natural at all. He could see the myriad colours streaked through the long length that fell in gentle curves past her shoulders. She had the long, slim limbs of the dancer. And the extremely brief attire. Then she looked up at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed but challenging. Her cheeks flushed. Her mouth full but firm. All instantly recognisable.

Good grief.

Gabe just stared, his brain fuzzy, a humming in his ears. He had to be mistaken on this. But he wasn’t. This was his under-age landlady? Sleeping Beauty from the wilderness?

‘Hello, Gabe.’ Despite the colour in her cheeks, the rest of her face was deathly pale.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

‘You mean you haven’t worked it out already?’ Her wildly blue eyes glittered. But not from tears. No, it was all defiance.

His gaze narrowed. No, he couldn’t believe his eyes. The mouse-brown hair was now shot through with gold. And there was so much polish. She was wearing marginally more than she had been yesterday. Actually the shorts were even shorter—micro shorts, the exact colour of her eyes. And instead of a see-through old vest-top, she had a pink leotard on. The whole outfit too skin-clinging for comfort.

‘I thought you said you were going overseas,’ he said stupidly.

‘I am.’ She looked at him through lashes perfectly—but heavily—mascaraed.

‘Then why are you trying out for the Blades?’ He swallowed. Was this high-gloss vision truly the same sodden waif he’d met less than twenty-four hours before? Helplessly he glanced down her leotard-clad torso again. Not the slim waif at all. Curves had mushroomed magically. He bit his lip to stop the smile and the comment he so badly wanted to make.

‘I’m going overseas at the end of the season,’ she said. ‘I want to dance first.’

‘The end of the season?’ He was appalled; his amusement fled. That wasn’t soon. He’d thought she was shipping out in a week or so. How was he supposed to live in that house with her a stone’s throw away for the best part of six months? Especially if she was going to be glammed up something gorgeous like this?

Tags: Natalie Anderson Billionaire Romance
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