Limerence (2 page)

My thoughts drift back to Oliver, and what he had said earlier about ‘silly little rich boys.’ Well, he had one thing right. He was clearly rich. However, that was no boy in the car. He was all man.

*

“What do you mean you haven’t filled the pantry yet?” I scowl out of the window, the streets passing by in a blur. I listen half-heartedly to the voice on the other end of the phone.

“I’ll be there soon—I don’t want excuses. I want results. How hard can it be to fill a goddamn pantry?”

The voice continues to mumble excuses at me.

How has it come to this? How have I ended up in this drab little town?

I scowl harder, pulling a hand through my hair.

“Blah, blah, blah. These are all excuses, and I’ve heard them all before. I do not want you to think, I want you to
do
.”

My eyes wash over a woman standing on the corner of the street, ready to cross. “Pull over!” I bark out to my driver. He looks nervously in the rearview mirror and pulls the car to the curb. My driver gets out and opens my door, and I slip my phone into my pocket without finishing the call. I step out on to the pavement in one fluid movement. The woman stands wide-eyed watching me, her mouth open in a silent ‘O’. It is hard not to stare at me, of course…I know that. I am tall, dark, and handsome…the typical cliché. Yet I am so much more than just that.

I smile at her. “Hello, beautiful. Could I trouble you for a quick word?”

Corny, and yet…

The woman comes over to the car without faltering, smiling shyly at me, and I give her my most dazzling stare and sexy smile.

…it works every time.

“I am new in town, and need someone to show me around. Perhaps you would be free to assist me?” I reach up and pull my fingers through the long auburn locks around her face. She shivers at my touch, a blush rising in her cheeks.

“I’m erm, well…I’m just on my way to work, actually.”

I smile at her again, my eyes focusing in on hers. “Come on, beautiful. Show me around. Show me the sights. A beautiful woman like you must know some great places around here.” I lean in further, my shadow falling across her face, and she gulps loudly.

I sigh, my body so close to hers that my breath washes over her.

“Well, I guess I can just phone in sick or something.” She shrugs.

I guide her to my car—ever the gentleman—helping her get in first, and then I let the driver shut the door behind me.

“So, beautiful. What’s your name?”

“Kate,” she giggles.

“Well, beautiful Kate. My name is Robert Breckt.” My arm drapes over the tops’ of her shoulders and I pull my phone back out of my pocket.

“I have one.” I look at her. “See, how hard was that? Now, I want to see the pantry full in the next forty-eight hours, or there is going to be hell to pay.” I snap the phone shut. The driver has turned on the tinted windows for my privacy and I look at the woman next to me. The excitement of meeting a handsome stranger is finally giving way to the faintest of fear. A frown puckers between her brown eyes.

“Do not worry, beautiful Kate. I need to set things in order in my new home, and then you can show me all of the delights of this town.” I force a smile and she relaxes her shoulders.

Typical, and boring. Just like all the rest.

“Where do you live?” she asks, almost too quietly.

I look away from her and watch the houses and shops that pass us by. “I have just moved to the Island.”

Her heartbeat picks up when she realises her good fortune. Maybe she expects me to be her knight in shining armour, come to take her away from this drab town, and her boring job. She moves closer to me and I hear her inhale, breathing me in. She’s intoxicated by my presence.

“So, what brings a man like you to a little town like this?”

I sigh, but don’t answer.

“Can’t be the entertainment.” She lets out another small giggle. “There’s nothing to do around here.”

I glance behind me. She’s smiling expectantly.
I hate gigglers.

“There are some great views that I could show you, maybe?” She licks her lips—an attempt at seducing me, no doubt.

I look at her with quiet boredom.

The car starts over the bridge to the Island. It’s a straight run, with the sea underneath. The waves crash up against the shore, splashing over the rocks.

Kate moves closer to me. She lifts a hand to my shoulder and strokes the seam of my suit.

“I’m sure there’s so much more that you could show me, though.”

I watch her lips moving but can’t hear her words. Her voice is like the irritating squeal of nails down a blackboard. The vein in her neck pulses wildly with each throb and pound of her heart. I flinch when her hand moves to the collar of my shirt, and then up to my neck.

“Do not touch me, Kate.” My green eyes glow brighter, a tingle burning through them, and she cowers under the look. I grip her hand and pull it away from me, keeping it trapped within my grasp. I lean in close to her. “I do not like to be touched.”

My face is millimetres from hers and she breathes in my scent again, my allure running through her body. My mouth moves slowly to her neck, and I kiss it gently.

“I want you to sit here nice and quiet for me, Kate. Can you do that?” She swallows and nods.

“You are very pretty, but very irritating. As are all your kind.” I pull back and look at her face. Her pupils are dilated, the frown back between her eyes.

“I was just trying to…”

My hand grabs the side of her head and I feel the force of the window ricochet through my hand and up my arm as I slam her head into it. Her body goes lax, and I lay her down along the seat, resting her head upon my knee. The window hasn’t broken…reinforced glass saves the day again.

I stroke the hair from her forehead. “Hush now, Kate.”

I cross the bridge over to the Island, a warm sea breeze blowing in from my open window, and flicking my hair around my face. I sing along with the music on the radio unashamedly, out of tune but happy.

I look for Oliver on my way up the long driveway. There are a lot of people about—more than I expected. People are working on everything. Movers, decorators, and builders dominate the circular driveway and front lawn with their hustle and bustle. Large glass windows look out over the entire front of the Island, making the building stand out against its natural surroundings. The effect of hundreds of years of updating and extensions, I guess.

I pull up around the back of the house, near the unused stables, when I see Oliver’s car and climb out. The sun beats down as I raise my face to the sky with a smile and drink in the warmth of it. Its heated touch caresses my pale skin.

“What are you doing here?” Oliver’s arms encircle my waist as he comes up behind me and breaks my reverie.

“You forgot your lunch, dummy.” I giggle and he spins me round to face him.

“Well that was fortunate for me, wasn’t it?” He leaves soft kisses upon my mouth with a smirk.

“Cheeky,” I laugh. “Show me around, Ollie. I’ve not seen this place in years.” I take his hand in mine and we begin walking back around to the front.

“Have to be quick though, princess. Bill told me this morning, that the owner is heading down here today to see how everything’s coming along.”

We reach the front of the house, where it seems busiest. More people have arrived to move what seems like a lot of expensive furniture into the mansion.

He looks at me. “Anyway, I didn’t know that you had ever even been over here.”

“Yeah. When I was a little kid, my auntie Jean brought me over here for a party her boss was throwing. I was only about six or something. It was for his little girl, I think. I don’t remember much about it, except that I didn’t know anyone and felt really awkward.” I look around me with a smile.

“But the thing that sticks in my mind was how lovely it was here. It’s like another world or something. I don’t know if it’s the scenery or the sound of the waves against the shore so close to the house—or a combination of the two—but I feel so calm here.” I snuggle closer to him, his arm tight against my waist.

“Oh, so your aunt must have had a good job then, eh, getting invited to the big boss’s parties. You’re not the poor girl you made yourself out to be, are you?” Ollie says with a wry smile and a chuckle.

We stop in front of the big oak front door and I playfully slap his arm. “Hey. I never said I was a poor girl. I’m a well-refined young lady, I’ll have you know.”

“Ow! Oh yes, very refined,” he laughs. “Do you want to see the plans for the entertaining garden?”

I would do anything to spend more time with this man.

I sigh contentedly. “Yeah, go on then.”

Over to the right of the main entrance, a small archway leads back around to the other side of the building. As we go up the small incline, it begins to flatten out. The ground underfoot is rocky but flowers bloom up as far as the eye can see. They even come up and out between the rocks under our feet. It’s awe-inspiring, like a magical secret garden. The noise from all the people working around the house doesn’t reach into this area. The only sounds I can hear are nature: bees, birds, and the breeze in the trees. Colours are blooming all around me, their sweet floral scent filling my nose. The trees stand tall and proud, their leaves a mixture of greens and golden browns. They lean over gracefully, and shade areas around the house.

Further out I see the start of the forest; it’s deep, dark, and alive with nature. Off to the left of us is a small courtyard area with a table and chairs and paperwork set upon it. Ivy grows along the walls of the house, thick and green, knitting itself into every available crevice.

My eyes are wide with excitement. “Oh, Ollie, I told you it was like another world here. I have to do a painting for the reception area at the school. Can I paint this? As it is, though?” My stomach tickles in excitement. “Sorry, I know you have a bit of tidying up to do of it and it’s going to look amazing when you’ve finished. But I’d love to paint it as it is. I just love the freedom and the unruliness of it.”

I twirl around in a circle like a five year old, giggling as I reach for my pads and pencils from my satchel.

Oliver pulls me in closer, his eyes saddening. “Yeah, of course, but you’re going to have to be quick. The owner, Mr Breckt, sent an email yesterday, saying that he wants the entire lot here pulled up.” Oliver gestures around us both.

I stare open mouthed at him as he continues. “He hated the original plans. In fact, most of the work that he wants done is flattening everything out and doing some very clinical, stylised designs. Bill has had to go back into town to drag out some old designs we did a while back for the hospital gardens. They seem more the type of thing that he’s after. Let me show you.”

We reach the table where Oliver has his designs laid out. They show neat garden borders around the expanse of the mansion. Most of the flowers have been taken out, with the exception of some lavender plants and a small herb garden near the kitchen area. The overgrown trees have been chopped down, leaving no shading whatsoever.

The air leaves me in a rush, and sadness creeps in. I’m thankful that the forest is on protected land. I have a feeling that the new owner would have chopped everything down if he could have gotten away with it.

The wildness that envelops the garden now will be gone, replaced by simple and contained bushes. I can see that Oliver has tried to make the best of the plans with what he’s been restricted to, but I hate them.

He raises his eyebrows at me. “I know, I know, you don’t need to say it. Compared to what it could be, it’s awful. It’s the best we can come up with so far. The owner said he wants to be able to see the ocean from as many angles of the house as possible. I think he would have torn out the forest if he could.”

I knew it.
I pout.

“He doesn’t like plants at all judging by what he wants us to do.” Oliver throws up his hands in exasperation. “I’m working with what we’ve got though. It’s such a shame. I had some great ideas for this place. It could have been amazing.” He looks off into the distance. “Seriously, it’s like the guy hates anything natural,” he adds.

I feel so sorry for him. He’s been looking forward to this job for weeks and has worked so hard on the plans.

As if on cue, a man steps out from the shadows of a side doorway—a doorway that up until that moment, I hadn’t even noticed. He’s young and handsome, with a chiselled, firm jaw, and perfectly shaped mouth. His hair is dark and thick, styled and yet unruly, as if unwilling to be tamed. He’s of medium height and build, but in the suit and tie that he’s wearing, he commands everyone’s attention.

Or perhaps it’s those mesmerising eyes that have me entranced.
I know I need to stop staring, but I am drowning in them. They are so piercing and vibrant that they seem unreal.

“On the contrary, I’m quite fond of all things natural and beautiful.” I jump at the sound of his voice.

His eyebrows rise as he takes in the scene with a leisurely gaze. His eyes find Oliver’s and he looks at him with a wonky smirk. Something about his smile makes him even more endearing, and I blush and look away.

Another man accompanies him, and I’m taken aback by his enormity. A T-shirt stretches over his incredible muscles, and its black colour reflects against the darkness of his skin. A blank expression covers his face as he stands three steps behind the first man. I can only assume the sharply dressed man is the new owner, Mr Breckt. He’s also the same man that I had seen drive by our apartment this morning. I roll my eyes, glad that he didn’t hear Rachael whistling at him.

He’s like an Adonis, and I’m finding it hard to look away again when Oliver grips my hand, breaking my stare. I blush furiously, embarrassed and ashamed by how attractive I find him. He seems to ooze sexiness and sophistication, and seems so confident and relaxed with himself.

What did he expect to get by moving here?
This isn’t the sort of place for someone like him; he would belong better on a catwalk or in a catalogue than in our tiny little town of ‘Nowhereville.’

“My name is Robert Breckt. Your name, my sweetness, would be?” He ignores Oliver and steps closer to me. His shadow falls across my face as his closeness invades me. My breath snags in my throat as I try to find my words.

His voice is soft and even, as the words roll off his tongue in a commanding tone. He looks down at me, his gaze sweeping over my face and body, and I feel shy, as if I’m being undressed where I stand.

Oliver steps forward to my rescue, looking unsure of himself for a change, but holding out a firm hand to Mr Breckt. I notice his other hand is still clasping mine tightly.

“Mr Breckt, this is my girlfriend—well, my fiancée, Mia Lawrence. She was just bringing me my lunch. I’m sorry for the interruptions. I…erm, I was just showing her the plans you had decided upon for the gardens.” His hand is still lingering in the air between them both.

Mr Breckt looks from Oliver to myself and finally takes the offered hand, giving it a brisk shake. “So then, beautiful Mia, what do you think of my plans?” He doesn’t look away from me, his mouth turned up in a confident smile. His full lips part to reveal perfect white teeth. He truly is ridiculously gorgeous, I decide, and I feel myself getting lost in his deep green eyes once more.

My palms are sweaty and I absently pull my hand from Oliver’s and wipe it on my leg. “Yes. Yes, they’re very lovely.”

What?

I still cannot look away from those eyes, and he smiles wider, fully aware of the effect he is having on me. I’m sure he is sucking the air straight out of my lungs as my heart thumps in my chest.

“But?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“But?” I ask back, before realising that he wants me to give more of an answer. “I, erm, I would have preferred more colour.” I blurt out in a panic. “Yes, it’s not very colourful is it?”

And again . . . what?

I can feel Oliver staring at me.

More colour. What are you, five? But hey, it’s not as if I can tell him that I hated his plans.

Mr Breckt is obviously amused by my ramblings. “More colour you say?” he smirks.

“Yes,” I whisper. I’m shocked that I can get any words out at all. And I am acutely aware that Oliver is staring at us both. He seems both dumbfounded by my response to his employer and furious by the interest his employer is showing me. Shame once again sweeps over me like a tidal wave.

However, no matter how shameful I feel, I simply cannot stop my reactions. My eyes stray to his lips.
God I’d like to kiss those lips
. I lick my own lips, feeling beyond thirsty.

Mr Breckt smiles at me and I have an odd feeling that he knows what I’m thinking, as he too licks his lips. He casually looks over to Oliver and then back to me again, as if assessing the situation. He looks young, but not too young. He couldn’t be more than thirty years old and yet he has the money and ability to buy this place. I feel awe and respect for him.

“More colour?” he repeats, the humour still in his voice.

“Yes.”
Oh god, I feel stupid.

“Well, more colour it is, then,” his voice is silky smooth. “Well . . .” he looks at Oliver, “the lady thinks our plans are dull, it seems. Is she always this demanding?” he asks, obviously not expecting an answer. He gazes around him and then bends down to examine the plans laid out.

“What is your favourite colour, beautiful Mia?” He looks up at me through his dark lashes and my heart skips a beat.

“Mine?”
Where’s this going?

“Yes.” He smiles again. “Yours.”

“Erm… I guess blue. Or purple,” I stammer.

He looks to Oliver now. “Well then.” He points on the plans to the courtyard area we are standing in and a grassed area to the left of us. “These two areas will be the beautiful Mia’s gardens. Plant her some Columbine and some Delphiniums and perhaps some Campanula Punctatas. He looks back to me.

“Would that be to your liking, Mia?”

I nod noncommittally. Since I have no idea what any of those flowers look like, I truly cannot comment. Mr Breckt huffs, his lips twitching in the trace of a frown, and I feel panic that I may have offended him.

“Sounds beautiful,” I add.
There’s that word again, beautiful.

Oliver’s jaw is clenched tight.
Oh, he’s pissed.
I wonder if it’s because I’m practically drooling at this handsome stranger or the fact that he keeps calling me ‘beautiful Mia’? Oliver has always been overprotective and jealous. If ever a situation called for his masculinity, this would be it.

“Well then, I think we have it all covered for now.” Mr Breckt states rather than asks. “If you can start that right away,” he straightens back up and adds. “As a priority. We don’t want to keep the lovely lady waiting now, do we? We know how demanding she can be.”

Oliver’s jaw is grinding and I watch him struggle to control himself. His words are short and clipped. “Of course, Mr Breckt.”