Jo went.
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t spent time in the flat before, she reminded herself. She’d lived there in the rose garden when her father had still been living in the house—when she had been working with him after Jilly’s death.
And an angry Richard Trent was an unknown quantity to all of them, so it made sense to sleep in the flat.
In a bedroom right next door to Fraser Cameron?
The same Fraser Cameron who’d held her in his arms, comforted her, and for a moment made her think he might have kissed her?
The same Fraser Cameron who made her stomach drop when she turned and saw him unexpectedly?
Well, she wouldn’t be seeing him unexpectedly, would she? She’d be in one bedroom and he’d be in the other and she could stay in bed until he went for a surf then scurry back home to shower and get ready for work.
It would be okay …
And it was.
Right up until she walked into the flat and saw him in the boxer shorts he obviously wore to bed. Not tight enough to be too revealing, they still clung to a butt that could make any woman swoon, while the bare chest, a toasty brown with a scattering of dark hairs, made her knees go weak.
Attraction shouldn’t be so strong so quickly. It must be that she was tired and over-emotional that this man’s body was tugging at hers, as if invisible threads—finer than spiders’ webs—were tangling them together.
‘Hot chocolate?’
She heard the words but the picture they conjured up—licking chocolate off that chest, dipping her tongue into a chocolate-filled navel—made her groan out loud.
‘You don’t like hot chocolate?’
She dragged her eyes upwards to his face and caught an expression of disbelief.
‘I thought everyone liked hot chocolate,’ he added, with such a warm, open smile she felt doubly ashamed of her thoughts and could feel blood rushing to her cheeks to make her shame obvious.
‘Not tonight,’ she managed in a garbled voice, and she fled to the second bedroom, so pleased to escape him she had to open the door she’d shut behind her to call out a goodnight.
After which she shut it firmly once again and collapsed onto the bed.
What was happening to her?
Easy to answer that. She was falling in lust with her employee.
And just where would that get her?
Given that he was the epitome of tall, fairly dark and extremely handsome and could obviously have any woman he wanted and wouldn’t look twice at a scrawny redhead, absolutely nowhere, that’s where.
Not that she wanted this inexplicable attraction to go anywhere. Love led to loss in her experience and she wasn’t ready to lose any more bits of herself.
Love? Where had love come into the equation? She’d been thinking lust—nothing more.
THE flat was curiously empty when she awoke, feeling surprisingly refreshed, the next morning. Her tenant’s bedroom door was open, revealing the rose-covered spread drawn tightly across the bed—army training no doubt—but it was in the kitchen, where she went to get a glass of water, that the surprise awaited her. A plate of fruit, but set out like a smiley face, two cherries for the eyes, a slice of pawpaw for a nose, a curved banana for a mouth. Balls of orange rock-melon curled around the face, while her name was spelled out in carefully cut pieces of watermelon—a riot of colour, taste and nutrition.
Assuming he didn’t make himself smiley-face fruit breakfasts every morning, it meant he’d done it especially for her.
Wanting to get in good with her so he could stay on permanently?
Or simply because he was a kind and thoughtful man?
A little pang inside her suggested that she’d like to think it was because he liked her, maybe was a little bit attracted to her, but common sense prevailed and she took the plate through to her house, apparently undisturbed overnight, and ate the fruit as she got ready for work.
Work.
She had to contact the Bennetts to find out if they’d decided what they wanted to do about a sleep programme for Kaylin, talk to Cam about IVF and Helene, contact Tom and Lauren to see if Friday afternoon suited them for a meeting …
She’d walked onto the deck as she was finishing the fruit and considering the day ahead, and now she sighed, thinking of Cam out there on his board, wishing for the first time in years that she was out there too.
Which reminded her of Cam’s promise to young Aaron. She was pretty sure the baby boards on which she and Jill had learnt to surf were in the storeroom downstairs. She’d check on her way down to work. They’d be ideal for the two little boys, though Cam couldn’t handle both of them safely on his own. Would Jackie join in surfing lessons?
Now it was a squirmy kind of disturbance in Jo’s stomach. No, she wouldn’t help. Bad enough having to work with a man to whom her body was attracted, but out of office hours?
At the beach?
No way.
Never!
‘Can I help?’
The offer startled her as she was hauling the boards out from behind other cast-off rubbish in the storeroom beneath the deck, sorry she hadn’t left the task until after work, because her hands were filthy and she was covered with dust.
Her tenant, standing in the doorway, was also ready for work—but clean.
‘Thanks, but I’ve found what I was looking for,’ she told him, not that he appeared the slightest bit interested in her reply, for he was lifting her old board—the last board she’d had specially shaped to her own design before she’d stopped surfing—running his hands over its smooth lines, the delight on his face suggesting he’d just discovered hidden treasure.
‘It’s a Silver Crowne,’ he said, in awed tones. ‘I’ve heard of these boards but never seen one up close. Silver Crowne only made pro boards.’
The slight accusation in the final sentence made Jo stiffen, but she refused to answer him, passing him the small boards instead.
‘Mind your clothes, these are still dusty,’ she said, ‘although most of the dust seems to have transferred itself to me. I thought they might do for the Trent boys.’
Cam grinned at her.
‘Wow, great idea. Teaching them to surf is a far better idea than taking them for one ride on my board. You’ll help?’
No was the obvious answer, but somehow it failed to come out. Jo made a big deal of dusting off her clothes, then gave up.
‘I’ll just run upstairs, have a quick shower and change into something clean—tell Kate I’ll be down in a few minutes.’
He seemed to accept she wasn’t going to reply for he asked, ‘Will these boards be safe if we leave them out, or should we lock them back in your storeroom but near the front?’
Jo was halfway out the door when she realised he was still holding the boards—and she hadn’t thanked him for breakfast.
‘We’ll leave them just inside and if you could shut the door and close the padlock that would be great. And thank you for the