Naughty Nights in the Millionaire's Mansion

When she flicked on the filter, her hand accidentally brushed his. His heartbeat kicked as a live current spiralled up the cords of his arm to his shoulder, much the same heat-generating sensation that had claimed him this afternoon when they’d touched. Instantaneous and perilously pleasant.

Their eyes met—hers filled with perception as well as surprise before she dropped her gaze and edged a little away. ‘I’m sorry…about your dad.’

Setting his thoughts straight, Mitch collected his trusty net. ‘He was a good but old-fashioned man. A firm believer in tough love.’

Her mouth thinned. ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child?’

‘Not at all. But, in our house, actions had consequences.’ How many talks about responsibility and putting those you cared about before yourself had he listened to? ‘We were loved, but you didn’t get away with much. In return, he gave us his undivided attention when we needed it.’

Her green eyes took on a sheen, reminding him of the leaves on the pavement this morning when he’d decided to get himself that pet.

‘You must all miss him very much,’ Vanessa said.

He nodded. Every day.

What would his father have done about the current family dilemma? Last night, Cynthia, the youngest at twenty-two, had announced her engagement to the sleaze ball of all time. Their showboating mother had crowed with joy, which had surprised him. Sleaze Ball might be a doctor but he was also a notorious gambler.

How on earth could he protect people who jumped feet first into disaster, tittering prettily as they fell into the abyss?

Groaning, he swirled the new water with the net.

Guess he’d sort something out. Or maybe he wouldn’t; maybe this time would be the time he let the women sort it out themselves. He couldn’t very well tell his sister who to marry, though he’d certainly like to tell her who not to.

Mitch stole a glance at his comely visitor as a gentle reflection from the water danced over her face. Did Vanessa Craig hold high expectations on the business front, or was she focused more on personal matters, like landing a good catch? Seemed his sisters could think of little other than having babies. What was the hurry? He was in no hurry at all.

He set the net down. ‘What about you?’

Her bright eyes blinked up from the water. ‘What about me?’

‘Family. You didn’t say whether yours live nearby.’

Her slender shoulders went up, then down. ‘I don’t have a family.’

section_insertedcopyright--num_1--seq_18? The idea was alien. And, in some ways, wickedly appealing. No demands. No expectations. No interruptions. ‘No one at all?’

She trailed a damp hand down her jeans, leaving a streak on her shapely denim thigh. ‘I have an aunt. As well as great friends and my animals—’ she flashed an optimist’s smile ‘—so life’s full.’

Was that a subtle hint that she wasn’t interested in romance? Well, ditto…even if his growing curiosity and flexing libido refuted that statement. There was something about Vanessa Craig—something mesmerising calling to him from beyond those bewitching green eyes.

She checked her large-faced watch, took the net and scooped Kami up to ease him into his new watery home. As his golden scales darted around the relocated trident, Mitch shot out a relieved breath. ‘He looks happier already.’

‘Hopefully that should do the trick.’

‘After all that exercise, he should sleep well.’ Which was good news for them both; he had some important paperwork to get through tonight.

‘Fish don’t sleep,’ she pointed out. ‘They slow their metabolism and rest.’ She knelt down to gather the replacement tank’s packaging. ‘Dolphins sleep, of course,’ she went on. ‘But they’re mammals. They keep one side of their brain awake while the other half dozes.’

Fascinated, he dropped onto his haunches too. He’d known dolphins weren’t fish, but, ‘They’re awake while they sleep?’

Clearly he was behind in his general knowledge. Maybe he should subscribe to the Animal channel. Or he could cut his more primal instincts some slack and become better acquainted with this expert. Not as if he was taking the plunge and asking her out. He was simply interested in getting to know her mind a little better.

He collected some discarded bubble wrap. ‘Did you study marine biology?’

‘Zoology. And business as well as some Greek mythology.’ Sweeping up more packaging, she tilted her head at him and shimmering hair fell like a silky waterfall from behind her shoulder. ‘Did you know that the ancient Greeks believed dolphins were once human? There’s a school of thought that says Poseidon was human once too.’

Still crouching, he leant a little closer. The sound of her voice was melodic…soothing. ‘Is that right?’

‘The more traditional myth says he was one of the supreme Olympian gods,’ she continued, grabbing more packaging. ‘When Creation was divided between the gods, Hades got to rule the underworld, Zeus dominated the skies, and Poseidon became lord of the water, both fresh and salt. His son, Triton, was half human, half fish.’

Engrossed, Mitch blindly reached for more bubble wrap while she reached the same way. Their hands touched. That sizzle flashed again and this time sparked and caught light. But while the sexual awareness was through the roof, the sense of awkwardness had all but vanished.

They shared a brief what if smile, then she pushed to her feet.

He wanted to hear more. ‘So the mermaid legend started with the Greeks?’

She nodded. ‘But originally mermaids were called sirens, fabled to be half woman, half bird. They had beautiful voices they used to lure sailors and their ships onto the rocks. If a ship got away, the siren would have to throw herself into the sea.’

He slowly pushed to his feet too, chancing to take in the tempting lines of her body as he went. Vanessa Craig didn’t smell like birdseed or puppies any more. She smelled soft, sweet and slightly salty, like a fresh ocean breeze.

He rested his hip against the table edge. ‘Did any sailors try to resist?’

‘One. He’d heard about the sirens hypnotic deadly powers. He had his crew tie him to the mast of his ship so he wasn’t able to steer her towards tragedy. But when he saw the beautiful siren on the shore, and heard her song, he begged to be cut free.’

His gaze skimmed her delicate jaw. ‘Who won?’

She laughed. ‘Depends if you were the siren or the sailor.’

His return smile faded as his gaze drifted to her mouth. Those pink, full, tempting lips. Another few inches and he could taste them. Explore them. Of course this instant attraction could merely be backlash from shunning the dating scene long enough. Vanessa was attractive, intelligent, not to mention incredibly sexy.

Best of all, she was independently minded. A strong but companionable woman. His kind of woman.

He broke the trance and bent to sweep the box off the floor. ‘Have you had your business long?’

‘Two years.’

‘Going well?’

Her smile wavered and she shrugged. ‘Sure. Aside from being evicted in two weeks from the store I adore and needing to find a new place with rent that’s anywhere within my budget. I have an appointment with my bank manager tomorrow and—’ She stopped and released a self-deprecating sigh. ‘Now that was too much information.’

His gut turned to ice as a withering feeling sank through his middle, but Mitch managed a thin smile in return. ‘Not too much information at all.’

Rather, just enough. Barring an earthquake in central Sydney or the acting President suddenly losing all faith in his protégé, two weeks from tomorrow Mitch would claim the head chair of the family company, as per his late father’s will. If anyone could organise finance, the soon-to-be President of Stuart Investments and Loans certainly could.

But, realistically, he and Vanessa Craig were little more than acquaintances. Despite the lure of smouldering embers, he wouldn’t ignore the warning signs. Eviction. Financial disaster. Before him stood a time bomb about to explode, which translated into a loss for his company should he choose to invest, not to mention a hit to his personal armoury if he allowed himself to become any more intrigued. God knew, he had enough to worry about without taking on new risks.

He held the box against his ribs and glanced around. ‘Well, that seems to be it,’ he announced cheerily. ‘How much do I owe you?’

Reading his terminating social cue, her smile wavered and her gaze flicked away. ‘No charge.’

‘There must be some difference between the two tanks.’

‘All part of the service.’ She nodded at her card on the table. ‘And if you need any help in the next few days, you know where to find—’

‘Absolutely.’ He snatched up the card with his free hand as if to confirm his commitment. ‘I’ll see you out.’

A moment later, he swung open his front door and faced the sunset’s dying colours, deepest crimson and streaks of gold bleeding across the eucalypt hills in the west.

‘Goodnight, Mr Stuart.’ She gave him her signature salute. ‘Good luck.’

‘Yep. Thanks. You too.’

She’d need it.

When the door closed, he emptied his lungs, tossed her business card on the hallstand and made a vow. If he had any more problems with Kami, he’d call a fish expert; Yellow Pages were bound to list them. The best way not to get burned was to stay away from the fire, no matter how attractive the flames of that fire might be.

But as he strode towards the living room, a tantalising image swam up to taunt him…those heavenly hips, that amazing T-shirt, her hypnotic voice and come-hither smile.

Damp broke out on his hairline and he wheeled back around. Grabbing the card, he looked at it hard and tore it clean down the middle.

Beautiful sirens. Sailors sinking with their ships. The only rocks he wanted to see were the ones clinking in his pre-dinner Scotch while he pored over those figures for tomorrow’s late meeting.

He settled down to that drink and his work, with the new tank and its occupant on a side table nearby. He was trying to banish Vanessa Craig and her lips to the furthermost corners of his mind when the doorbell rang.

He slammed down his glass. What now?

A moment later he swung open the door and his heart hit his throat.

‘Me again.’ An apologetic but upbeat Vanessa Craig curled some hair behind her ear. ‘I got down the street before realising I forgot to collect the smaller tank. I bet you don’t want it clogging up your gorgeous home—’

Her words ran dry at the same time her face fell. Her gaze had drifted behind him, to the hallstand at his back.

To the torn business card.

As his insides wrenched into a guilty knot, she blinked several times, then her mouth quivered with a lame smile—a vain attempt to cover her hurt. ‘Gee, I didn’t realise I’d made such a sterling impression.’

He ran a hand through his hair. Hell.

‘It’s not how it looks.’

Her laugh was short. ‘It looks like you can’t bear to see my name.’

He groaned. She had it completely wrong, but he couldn’t tell her that. He couldn’t begin to explain.

Her chin angled up. ‘Whatever your opinion of my service today, you’re one hundred per cent entitled to it. The customer’s always right. Always.’ She forced a brave smile, then turned on her heel.

‘Even when the customer screws up,’ he said, ‘because he’s attracted to the lady in charge?’

She turned back, her jaw hanging. ‘What did you say?’

He gripped both sides of the door jamb and admitted what must be obvious. ‘I’m attracted to you.’

She shook her head, puzzled. ‘So you don’t want to contact me again?’

She was right. His reasoning was flawed, particularly now she was back, with her lips so near and his elevated testosterone levels demanding to know what the hell he was waiting for.

He held his breath.

What was he waiting for?

His hands left the jamb and found her upper arms. Drawing her close—with that maddening logo pressed against his chest—he dropped his mouth over hers.

Her body stiffened and her fists came up, two small rocks pushing against his collarbone. But he didn’t release her…truth tell, he couldn’t. The heat combusting between their bodies had fused them together; she was glued to him as much as he was to her.

As his mouth opened, her lips parted and the kiss evolved and deepened, growing beyond spur-of-the-moment into something-special. His hold on her arms eased; as if a crutch were removed, she leant against his length. Taking the cue, his tongue performed a lazy sweep against hers, and again. Her relaxed fists began kneading his shirt.

When a compliant mew vibrated in her throat, he imagined slipping that T-shirt over her head and running his hands over the sweetest heaven on earth. His blood felt on fire. Every red-hot ion ready to ignite. God help him, he didn’t want to stop.

The kiss broke gradually, reluctantly, the caress growing strong again before, hot lava flowing through his veins, he finally eased off.

Her eyes were closed, her breathing ragged. Out of breath himself, he murmured against her warm soft lips, ‘Now do you see?’

Her eyelids flickered and her focus sharpened. ‘You wanted to kiss me?’

‘Very much.’

‘And you thought I wouldn’t want you to?’

Wincing, he pulled slightly back. ‘That’s not quite it.’

Her shoulders sank. ‘Is it another woman?’

He groaned to himself. ‘Not just one.’

When she unravelled herself from what remained of his grasp, he rubbed his brow. How could he explain that he didn’t need any more ties?

‘What I mean is, sexual attraction is one thing, but compatibility should be built on—’ He stopped, then started again. ‘When two people get together, they should be on the same page as far as—’ No, that wasn’t right. He took a breath. ‘Well, the thing is—’

‘That water should meet its own level?’ She darted a wounded glance towards his spacious living room and, beyond that, the priceless view. ‘Is that what you’re trying to say?’

He exhaled. ‘I’m saying we don’t know each other very well.’

‘But you know enough.’

‘Vanessa—’

As he stepped forward, she stepped back and held up a hand. ‘Please don’t be embarrassed. I’m a pragmatist, Mr Stuart. I know the way the world works.’ She reached around and took her torn card from the hallstand. ‘In case you’re tempted.’

With infuriating good grace, she shut the door behind her. It took all his willpower not to call out and drag her back against him where she seemed to belong. He had wanted to kiss her, hold her… Damn it, in that moment of insanity, he’d wanted to peel the clothes from her body and make love to her, thoroughly and all night long.

But, as he’d said, he barely knew this woman and his rescuing-damsels-in-distress plate was full. He shouldn’t get involved. In fact, he should thank his lucky stars it was over before it had begun.

He strode to the wet bar and poured himself a fresh Scotch. He swallowed a gulp, swallowed another. Frustration winning out, he smashed the glass down on the counter.

Like it or not, he was already involved. He wanted to see Vanessa Craig again. He wanted to listen to her stories. Taste her sweet lips. Damn it, he wanted to help.

The six million dollar question was…

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