The Party Dare. Anne Oliver
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curve of those glossy lips.
Which had him wondering how those eyes would look dazed with passion, how her lips would feel pressed against his own. How they’d feel against other body parts...
He gritted his teeth as his body responded to that tempting glimpse of paradise. He refused to be dictated to by his hormones. Or Ms Black. Swinging away, he raised his bottle in farewell as he moved to the door. ‘Enjoy your party.’
Yanking open his car door, he shook his head. Unbelievable. He was walking away from an opportunity to share the evening with a hot woman who obviously wanted the same thing he did.
He slid inside, sat a moment, staring through the windscreen. His next-door neighbour. Correction: Sunny’s neighbour. She and his sister looked about the same age, had the same feisty personalities—they’d probably get on well, even long-term.
Whereas he and Breanna? It would be hot and temporary, like that firecracker she’d made him think of. A whizz-bang, short-term fling.
But unlike the easy-going, casual women he hooked up with, this one would clash plenty with him. Give him a whole lot of drama he didn’t need.
He’d endured more than his share of emotional trauma. As a kid hearing his mother’s broken pleas when her violent husband exercised his conjugal rights and slapped her around while doing it, her sobs in the dark after he’d gone.
For more than half his lifetime he’d been powerless to change the situation. And every time his young self had tried, his mother had copped the beatings and the bruises.
Then there was the fire. Sunny’s arduous recovery and rehab. The relentless questions that nagged at him: what could he have done differently? What should he have done to change the outcome?
His breath fogged up the windscreen and he swiped a hand over the glass, switched on the ignition. High drama? Not him. No way. He’d planned his evening—a meal in one of the city’s upmarket restaurants overlooking Sullivans Cove, a few hours of work in the cosy sitting room accompanied by his favourite shiraz. Nothing and, more specifically, no one was going to interfere with those plans.
* * *
At ten-thirty, Leo powered off his laptop and stretched cramped muscles. The decision to postpone opening his wine had given him a clear head to work. His latest client was a new six-star eco lodge on Tasmania’s east coast with the beguiling name of Heaven. He’d finished reading their initial commentary and had noted his suggested changes and added his in-depth report an hour earlier than he’d anticipated.
It left him at a loose end for the rest of the evening.
Was that why he’d subconsciously postponed opening the bottle in the first place? Frowning, he dismissed it. He never felt the need to self-analyse. Until tonight. Until Breanna had burst into his life.
Her name alone brought her to sparkling life behind his eyes in a thousand different images, like seeing her through a kaleidoscope. Each one bright and sassy and unique.
Unsettling.
He paced to the window, stared past the rain pattering lightly on the night-darkened glass, in the direction of their homes, a two-minute drive away. He’d seen a substantial amount of liquor ferried to her car this afternoon. Was that a regular thing? He drummed his fingers on the pane. She was obviously a girl who enjoyed fun times. Were her parties noisy and boozy and out of control?
Tonight was an ideal opportunity to check things out and ensure his latest and most important acquisition was in Sunny’s best interests. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been invited, he reminded himself, and, picking up his bottle, he grabbed his car’s remote.
The unmistakable sounds of revelry greeted his ears when Leo strode up Breanna’s rain-slicked path with his bottle of wine a short time later. Bass thumped. Loud, but not loud enough to intrude on her neighbours’ peace. It scored Breanna a conditional nod of approval, even if her taste in music did nothing for him.
It appeared to be an open-door policy so he let himself in, crossed the foyer lit by a chandelier that matched his own. As he stepped into the formal lounge room, the atmosphere, overly warm with too many bodies packed into one place, enveloped him. Glow from the Moroccan lanterns splashed the shadowy room with splotches of orange and watermelon pink.
He waited for his eyes to adjust, expecting to see Breanna standing tall amongst the crowd wearing some eye-popping creation. Guests were gyrating in time to the pounding beat, others were loading plates at the spicy-smelling buffet in the corner.
But he didn’t see Breanna. He exhaled on an impatient breath. Where was she?
An attractive redhead in a slinky purple number found her way through the dancers and bobbed up in front of him. ‘Hi.’
Her smile was friendly interest. He was surprised to find it did nothing for him. ‘Hi there,’ he said, only half listening while he continued to search out the only reason he was here.
‘I’m Samantha. We haven’t met, have we?’
‘No, we haven’t. I’m Leo.’ He nodded towards the empty wine glass she was caressing. ‘Where can I get a couple of those?’
‘Drinks? I’d love—’
‘Glasses.’ He held up his bottle. ‘You don’t know where Breanna is, do you?’
‘She’s not far—I saw her a few moments ago talking with Bronwyn.’ Her smile evaporated and she waved towards the kitchen. ‘Glasses are that way.’
‘Thanks.’
On the lookout for the hostess, he made his way through the crowd, grabbing two clean long-stemmed wine glasses from the kitchen. The room looked marginally tidier than it had this afternoon. He spied a gaggle of girls in the family area where clothes had been scattered earlier, but saw neither Breanna nor her clothes. He checked the atrium where guests talked over booze and chips. The downstairs loo.
With the rest of the rooms in darkness, their doors shut, he presumed they were off-limits. Which left the next floor.
Familiar with the layout of his own place, he walked straight towards the master bedroom. He knew Breanna must be there since it was the only room with a light on. The sensual fragrance he’d come to associate with her—the one he’d taken to calling midnight temptation—drifted in the air. Anticipation swarmed through him and his pulse quickened.
He could hear movement and tapped on the semi-open door. ‘Breanna.’ When there was no reply, only a fast rustling sound, he tapped again. He was impatient to see her now he was here. ‘Breanna. Are you decent in there?’ In that instant it occurred to him that she might not be alone. Something hooked in his gut. Was that what he’d heard—two desperate would-be lovers trying to cover up fast? The thought of some other man touching her the way he’d been thinking of touching her shocked him into movement and he walked in without further preamble.
* * *
Leo was here? Brie scrambled up, tugged the hem of her new vermilion dress down, her heart jack-hammering. She swiped at a lock of hair that had fallen over her brow. He was the last person she wanted to catch her on her hands and knees searching under the bed for a DVD she’d borrowed from Bron and forgotten about.
She’d almost composed herself in front of the mirror when he entered without waiting for her invitation. Still, she could hardly hurl accusations—the door was open and he had asked permission. She’d just chosen not to answer until she was ready.
She still wasn’t ready and her heart was still thumping but she dragged her eyes to his reflection and locked gazes with him in the mirror while her fingers fumbled with the dress’s neckline. She could almost see the heat haze shimmering on the glass. Still watching his reflection, she saw him set his mega-expensive bottle of wine and two glasses on her bedside table.
He wore black casual and oh...my. She didn’t know what possessed her but to demonstrate just how cool and unruffled she was, not, she whirled around, sashayed over to