First Time Lucky?. Natalie AndersonЧитать онлайн книгу.
He’d noticed it at first glance in the bathroom—her long legs, fine-boned shoulders, slender waist, sweetheart-shaped face, smooth, glowing skin, sensually full lips. And then her eyes had opened and stabbed him in the gut. The most vividly blue eyes. He deluded himself that they looked unnaturally vibrant because of that cleaner. That the chemical had some belladonna-poison effect that magnified the intensity of their colour or something. As if. They were just knockout powerful. And now her red-rimmed, stunning eyes were round.
Yeah, he’d have to be blind not to see how she looked at him. It was a look he was used to and it didn’t usually affect him. Only he was working hard not to give her that same look back. That surprised, almost dazed look that had its roots in sensual appreciation and unexpected desire.
Maybe he’d inhaled some poisonous fumes too because he couldn’t be thinking this way. Her shorts were old and worn and not any season’s style. Her mouse-brown hair was in a bedraggled ponytail that emphasised that schoolgirl impression. And that damn thin white vest-top had gone transparent. He was trying very hard not to think about the pointed peaks jutting towards him. Because he wasn’t so out of control as to be turned on by almost visible nipples, by imagining cupping those mounds in his hands and bending before her to kiss the pointed tips, to press his face to the softly curved surrounds.
Okay, he was that out of control and his unruly imagination was making it worse. It’d been too, too long since he’d got laid. Too long he’d been stuck on the straight and narrow and boring. His heart hammered at an insane pace, ringing in his ears. The last thing he’d expected to find beyond that horrendous hedge was an architecturally amazing home complete with some Snow White or Sleeping Beauty or Rapunzel type impossibly pretty Disney princess inside. He couldn’t help wondering where the dwarves, beasts or wicked witches were …
Oh, he had to snap out of it. It was just frustration addling his reason. Going for a woman like this—one the same age if not younger than Diana—would be insane. She’d undoubtedly want more than he ever would. She’d be emotionally immature, a dreamer with that happy-ever-after fantasy that he was never buying into. It was when he’d been forced to reiterate that to Diana that her inner witch had appeared … intense, needy, a knife-edge to certifiable. Just the thought of that mess was enough to cool him off.
Almost.
Thank heavens this woebegone waif was heading overseas. It was only knowing she was leaving that he could take the place. No doubt she’d return from her trip all grown up and sophisticated and if serendipity saw their paths cross again, he’d dally with her then. Uh-huh, like in five years’ time. For now he’d get himself this hideaway and then hide, right away. In a couple of weeks the team had that game in Sydney and he was so hitting the club scene and having a couple of nights all-adult action. Having fought so long to gain independence from family expectation, he was letting no woman hamper his freedom. So he definitely wasn’t hot for Miss Skinny.
He turned back to face her and named a weekly rental price he figured should be almost on the money for the location.
‘Actually I’d been thinking a little more than that. My lawyer will send you the details to set up an automatic payment.’
So Sleeping Beauty wasn’t that sleepy. Good for her for knowing the high value of her property—and that he could afford it. Biting back all the flirt talk tingling on the tip of his tongue, he got his wallet and pulled out enough cash to cover the first two months. She took it from him with a steady hand and those wide, wide eyes.
‘Don’t you think you’d better tell me your name?’ he asked drily, trying to hide how he was dying of desire inside.
‘Roxanna Jones,’ she answered, head high and unblushing.
‘Good doing business with you, Roxanna.’ So not thinking about the pleasure of it—of her—at all.
‘When did you want to move in?’ Roxanna gripped the wad of notes tightly to stop herself from touching him and easing her insanely curious fingertips. Since when had her fingertips itched like this?
‘Tomorrow.’
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