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  As he ate his scrambled eggs and bacon, he pressed the PLAY button again, just for the sheer pleasure of hearing her voice. His cock was happy too, judging by the way it was butting against the fly of his jeans. Luckily for him, she had left her address as well as her phone number on the message. After breakfast, he would be paying a visit to Ms. Cassandra Grant.

  The clean-up from breakfast was done quickly and he whistled tunelessly along with the radio as he tidied. After spending the last couple of weeks in an emotional slump, he felt energized.

  He showered and shaved, humming all the while. Not even the thought that she had deliberately run from him was enough to wipe the silly grin off his face. Now, he knew where she lived.

  * * * *

  Pulling up on the other side of the road, Jake checked out her house, running a professional eye over the damage to it.

  Obviously Cassie's house had been just as hard hit as the rest of the houses in the neighbourhood after the killer hailstorm the previous week. Bright blue tarps, compliments of the State Emergency Service, were tied down over the roof to cover the holes until repair work could be completed. He and his crews had been flat out fixing internal water damage and restoring roofs.

  At least this time, it looked like she needed him as much as he needed her. Not in quite the same way, of course, but given time...

  Checking the rear view mirror for cars, he swung the steering wheel and coasted down her driveway.

  * * * *

  Cass's head lifted as she heard the doorbell. What now? She cringed at another interruption, looking in frustration at the pile of essays still sitting on her desk waiting to be graded. At this rate, there was no way she would get them done by next Monday. And if that stupid doorbell didn't stop ringing she would rip the damn thing off the wall. With a frown, she looked out the screen door at the young boy glancing expectantly and hopefully inside the house. With a knowing sigh, she grabbed her purse off the counter on her way to the door.

  "Hi,” said Cass. “Can I help you?"

  "Yeah, we're having this fund raiser at school..."

  The rest of the words faded into a drone, and Cass waited until he got to the punch line about the money. There had to be something terribly wrong with the government funding if kids were reduced to this to raise money for their school. In the past two hours, she had bought chocolates, a raffle ticket for a widescreen TV, and a tray of lamingtons baked fresh by the local Parents and Citizens group. That didn't include the door-to-door sales reps. She had passed up on the unbelievable offer of a season ticket to the local football games, a book of coupons for local shops that would save her hundreds of dollars—yeah, right, after she spent a thousand cashing them in to get the saving—and now, this kid was participating in a skip-a-thon. At least they were creative. Considering the amount of junk food the kids of today consumed, they could use the exercise. Handing over a $5 note to the beaming kid, she figured it was money well spent.

  It wasn't like her to be so grumpy, especially on a Saturday, but she was feeling off balance, testy. Testy wasn't a part of her emotional arsenal. But since that night with Jake, her emotions had been all over the place. She had even snapped at Chloe a couple of times, the confused look in her baby's eyes making her feel like a total shit. Luckily, it was Larry's turn this week to take all the kids to the under-10 Nippers group at the local surf life saving club, so she had a couple of hours to pull herself out of her latest funk. After a hectic morning of running around on the beach through flag races and racing out through the breakers with the local Life Savers, Chloe would crash tonight. Nothing surer.

  In an attempt to calm down and regain her focus, she flicked the switch on the kettle. While she waited for it to boil, she closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and tried to center herself, the technique a result of a brief foray into meditation about a year ago. “Wide sandy beaches and tropical blue oceans...” she murmured to herself a couple of times, sounding more desperate than calm, as if the words alone had the power to transport her.

  When the kettle started to whistle, she opened her eyes slowly, breathing deeply. The tea wasn't making itself, the pile of essays still stared back at her and the assortment of unwanted “purchases” still littered her counter, but she felt slightly better.

  However ... if the doorbell rang one more time, she thought, she would behead the poor unfortunate slob pushing it. Well, so much for meditation on the run.

  Taking her tea through to her office-cum-dining room, she paused to look out over the panoramic view of the beach in the distance and breathed deeply again, letting the sight of the ocean twinkling in the distance calm her better than any meditation or mantra, before settling back down to work.

  She loved her job, as she had always known she would. Unexpectedly falling pregnant in her final year at Uni hadn't stopped her from graduating, hectic and tiring as those days had been. It all seemed like yesterday.

  When confronted with the news that their baby daughter was pregnant, her mum and dad had been remarkably supportive. Her mum, especially. They hadn't pushed her to name the father and she hadn't told them. Just love and hugs and heaps and heaps of kisses. Larry, on the other hand, had wanted to inflict serious physical damage on whoever had done the dirty deed. Big brothers were like that—feeling like they had to protect their baby sister. At least Larry had always been that way, from the very first. Once he had managed to cool down, due mainly to his wife, Deb, telling him what an arse he was being, he was behind her every step of the way. Chloe's birth had been the most special day of her life. She chuckled as she recalled there were more concerned family in the delivery room than doctors and nurses.

  Her dad had been great. Baby Chloe had taken to him straight away. Whenever she was fussing or colicky, her father's quiet voice and big arms would soothe her. It was uncanny. Like she knew just how safe she was in those arms.

  When Chloe was about six months old, Cass had returned to Uni, partly on campus and part external study. With lots of help and support from her parents and Larry and Deb, she had gone on to receive her Masters with Honours, eventually securing a position as an Assistant Professor in the English faculty at her old stomping ground.

  This morning, however, attempting to plough through student essays on “The Rhetoric of Romanticism” was not exactly conducive to a calm state of mind. After struggling for the last four years as a single mum, any romantic notions she'd had, had long ago shrivelled and dried up.

  Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her pen and started reading through the next paper. A groan rumbled up as she went further through a poorly researched and ineffectually argued diatribe. With itching fingers, she resisted the urge to put a red cross through the whole piece, which was still preferable to tearing it into little pieces and flushing it down the toilet.

  She put her pen down. Shook her head. It wasn't the student's fault that her passion for this particular genre in English Lit wasn't what it used to be. Was she being too hard, she wondered?

  She jumped with a start when she heard the doorbell ring again. Gritting her teeth, she stalked down the hall.

  "Look, whatever you've got, I ... don't ... want ... it.” She pleaded, one part frustration, one part anger and two parts tiredness, with the as yet unseen bell ringer.

  "Well, now, that's a damn shame. You sure about that, Cassie?"

  That brogue was so familiar; the teasing rumble and the way that deep voice seemed to caress her name sent an involuntary ripple over her suddenly flushed skin. Of course, that could also have had something to do with the flood of embarrassment she was feeling as well.

  She pulled open the door and gasped at the sight of the man standing on her front porch. No, this one was definitely not a schoolboy. In fact, “boy” could in no way describe the sight in front of her. She involuntarily licked her dry lips. An overload of testosterone nicely wrapped up in a white t-shirt and jeans that hugged that cute, tight butt. Now, that was a package. And those eyes, looking at her with
the sparkling clarity of the Hope Diamond.

  Oh God. Jake.

  Chapter Seven

  Her embarrassment was so acute, she was sure even her feet had turned bright red. How the hell had he found her?

  A chuckle brought her full attention back to the man on the other side of the screen door and, even through the mesh, she couldn't fail to notice the way the mischievous eyes crinkled in amusement.

  "What are you doing here?” She stood speechless for a moment, still waiting for the thudding of her heart to settle down. Whether it was thudding because he had found her, or simply because of his presence was still up for debate. Her only relief was that Chloe wasn't there. The thought of the two of them finally meeting was something she hadn't been able to face up to yet ... coward that she was. Foolishly, she had hoped that she might never have to cross that bridge. But now...

  "I've a feeling I should be insulted by that, darlin'. Should I?"

  Way to go, Cass. “I ... I'm sorry. The doorbell hasn't stopped ringing this morning,” she said lamely by way of explanation. She was still blushing; she could feel it, if it were at all possible to feel red. A little of her anger returned as she watched his sparkling eyes scan her from top to toe in bemusement. “It's ... I'm not...” She scrambled to find her manners. “It's lovely to see you, Jake."

  See you naked was actually what ran through her mind, but considering their last meeting and the fact that she had run out on him like a scared bunny after spending a night fucking him like one, she bit off that last word before it got her into more trouble.

  "It's wonderful to see you, too. In fact, I'd like to see more of you if I could.” He caught her eye and grinned at her blush of discomfort. “But you keep running away from me. Now, why is that?"

  She knew that smile. It was the one that said, “This sexy smile goeth before Cass's fall.” Fall? Huh! How about plummet? Cass stiffened, valiantly trying to shore up her defences, ready for the siege. “What are you doing here, Jake?"

  "Hmmm ... I could say I came to find out why you ran out on me that mornin’ before I woke. By the way, did I do something wrong? Or perhaps I snore? Oh God, please tell me I don't snore."

  The damn man was making fun of her. But even though the questions were asked in a teasing manner, she didn't miss the underlying peevishness of his tone. Or the tightening of his jaw.

  It was a cowardly thing she had done, even if her reasons had been sound to her own mind, and faced with the evidence of her cold feet, she had the grace to sound apologetic. “Sorry, Jake. No to all of the above. I had to leave early to get back home and you were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't want to wake you.” A little bit of contrition usually worked, and it was the truth anyway. Mostly.

  "Sure, Cassie. If you say so."

  Usually worked, but obviously not this time. Those eyes could see right through her. She waited for him to prod further but surprisingly he didn't. With difficulty over the thudding of her heart, she wrenched herself back to the issue at hand. “But that doesn't explain why you're here, Jake. How did you find me?"

  "Funny you should ask, but you found me. Life's strange, ain't it, though?” His eyes narrowed as he watched at her.

  Cass looked at him blankly, totally confused.

  "I'm Rowling Constructions, Cassie. I own it. You left a message on my answering machine to get a quote for some, em ... work you need done around here."

  An intense, hooded look had come over those killer eyes, one that Cass recalled—intimately, and her body responded in spite of her best intentions to the contrary. Sure, Jake. You can start at my lips and work your way down. Real slow. Warmth flooded through her, pooling between the apex of her thighs.

  She shook her head and looked squarely at him, almost groaning out loud. Oh good grief! What am I thinking? “I ... I beg your pardon?” For some reason, coherent speech and thought seemed to have deserted her as she looked at the man on her front porch. So much for being an intelligent, rational woman. She felt as though her hormones were doing a souped-up quickstep through her body, sending a hot flush into some very interesting nooks and crannies. What little clothes she had on all of a sudden felt like too many.

  "Am I to be permanently relegated to the front porch? You can let me in. I'm house-trained and...” he held his hand up, “...I promise I won't bite."

  Oh please, bite me, bite me. So now it seemed as though her brain was in cahoots with her hormones. She swallowed over the lump in her throat and held the door open. “Come on in."

  Jake moved past her in the narrow hallway towards the kitchen, smiling down at her as he accidentally brushed her thigh and arm. A jolt of electricity flashed through her at the touch—a static shock that made her step back with nowhere to go, bumping straight into the wall with a soft thud.

  "There's no need to be afraid of me, darlin'. You're quite safe."

  Yeah, sure. Tell that to the rest of me, ‘Darlin'. I think maybe one or two corpuscles might have missed it.

  The clean, intrinsically male scent of him hit her next, jolting her senses. Breathing deep to try to settle down was the wrong thing to do, but she did it anyway. Disconcerted, but no longer alarmed by her reaction to him—some things, she had found, remain constant after all—she followed him through, mildly disgusted at her inability to keep her traitorous body under control.

  "T-take a seat, Jake.” Desperately, she tried to hide the shake in her voice. “T-tea?” Okay, not working...

  "What's up? You're not nervous, are you Cassie?” He was teasing again, the rat.

  "N-no.” Stop that! “Not at all. Should I be?” Of course you should be, you idiot.

  Grateful for something to do other than make a fool of herself drooling over him, she busied herself making the tea in the hope that having something to do with her hands would stop the trembling. She willed her voice to come out steady—to no avail. “A-actually, I wish you'd just call me Cass, Jake. Nobody calls me Cassie.” For a start it sounds too damn intimate...

  "You'll always be Cassie t'me, darlin'.” He smiled that too, too sexy smile as he looked at her. “It suits you. All soft and warm.” It came out sounding like 'sahft and wahrm'.

  Mr. Husky was back again. Don't do that Jake. Please don't do that. If she shut her eyes, she could remember the way he talked to her as they made love, the soothing sounds, the words of encouragement, the husky sounds of sex ... It was almost enough to make her come just from listening to him talk, which, of course, just meant that her lack of a proper sex life could have potentially embarrassing consequences. Half a dozen or so orgasms in her entire life, and he'd been the instrument of all of them. She figured she was worse than one of Pavlov's dogs.

  Her nipples had hardened and peaked under the loose summer dress, and hardly able to ignore the direction of his heated glance, she silently cursed the fact that she hadn't bothered to put on a bra when she dressed this morning. She hated wearing bras in the summer. But hell, it was Saturday and she wasn't expecting any visitors. She felt relieved when his hot gaze seemed to move away reluctantly from her and settled on the chocolate and coconut of the lamingtons.

  "Would you like one? They're fresh. Baked today.” Hoping that was a yes, she grabbed a plate from the cupboard above her head.

  Without even looking, she could feel his eyes on her. Damn him. He knew the effect he was having on her.

  She watched him as he glanced around the house from where he sat on the stool at the breakfast bar. She tried to see the house as he must be seeing it.

  The kitchen and living room were open plan, separated by the small breakfast bar. The living room in itself was plain, just a sofa, two comfy looking chairs and a solid teak coffee table plus lots and lots of velvet-covered cushions in a riot of vibrant colours. They alone saved the room from looking drab.

  It also had what was probably once a beautiful fireplace. The etched and carved frame and the marble mantelpiece harkened to an earlier, more graceful era, but it had been boarded up when she bought the hous
e and she had never gotten around to doing anything about it. A battered oil heater with rust marks starting to creep over it stood to one side instead for those nights when the bite of the sea breeze became a little chilly. It was a poor substitute, she realised, but any visions she had of making love on a rug in front of a roaring fire had been doused the same time she had acknowledged a romantic sex life was not going to be hers anytime this century.

  But swinging away from the fireplace, it was the floor to ceiling windows that went the full length of the other wall that were the main feature, and had her smiling with pride in her little house. A magnificent view over Collaroy Beach and north up the coast gave the impression of inviting the outdoors inside and made the room seem huge.

  He nodded, seeming pleased with what he saw. “It's a nice place you have here. Very cosy."

  The house was something she could safely discuss with him. It was only the thought of having wild sex with him on any flat surface that tended to unsettle her, and she grabbed at the chance to discuss something other than her rampaging libido.

  "Thanks. I bought it about six months ago after dad died.” Her heart clenched as she said the words.

  "I'm sorry to hear it, Cassie. My sympathies to you and your family."

  She nodded. “The money he left me, though, was just enough for the deposit on this place. It was very rundown then ... you know, a ‘renovators dream'? But after that hailstorm a couple weeks back, it's just become worse. So, I thought I might as well get the rest of the renovations I had planned done at the same time as getting the damage from the storm fixed. The insurance will pay for a lot of the stuff that needed doing anyway. It'll be a big job, I expect."

  Hang on. What was she saying? She didn't want Jake here working on her house. Bad idea. Dumb, dumb, dumb. It was fairly obvious that she wasn't going to be able to get rid of him too easily. Maybe if she just let him put in a quote, then she could use the excuse that somebody put in a better price...