Mistletoe Not Required (5 page)

He reached for the swing bag with its exclusive store logo etched in silver. ‘This is for you.’ He held it out to Brie. ‘It’s probably not the right sort for a beauty therapist...’ He shrugged, feeling awkward.

She grinned. ‘French label, are you kidding? I’ll love it. Thank you.’

He turned to Olivia. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’ He realised he meant that in more ways than one as he handed her the tissue-wrapped crystal vase he’d purchased in the hotel’s gift shop earlier this morning.

She met his gaze with a smile in her eyes that said she was as surprised as he. That maybe she’d forgiven him for the moment. ‘It was all kind of last minute, wasn’t it?’

‘I’ve waited a long time to share Christmas with you,’ Breanna said. ‘So here you are.’ She reached down, picked up a box, held it out. ‘Merry Christmas.’

He took it from her hands but it felt weird. ‘Thanks.’

‘Merry Christmas, Jett.’ Olivia held out a smaller packet.

‘Hey, I didn’t expect—’

‘Why don’t you sit on the couch and open them?’ Breanna suggested, sitting down herself and patting the space beside her, then reaching into her swing bag. ‘I can’t wait to smell this perfume.’

He sat next to his sister. Since it was on top, he opened Olivia’s gift first. A pair of soft kid gloves.

‘For Melbourne’s winter,’ she told him. ‘I hear it gets cold there.’

‘Thanks. They’re great.’ He admired the deep charcoal colour, her thoughtfulness. ‘You’ve never been to Melbourne, then?’

‘Never got around to it.’

‘Less than an hour’s flight from Hobart?’ He glanced at her, surprised, and caught a wistfulness in her eyes before she blinked it away.

‘Never seem to get time to travel these days.’

‘You’ll have to visit some time. You’d love the boutique shopping. I—’

‘Shopping’s not one of my priorities.’ Her voice was brisk. ‘At least not the indulgent kind of shopping you’re referring to.’

‘You’d enjoy it anyway,’ he assured her, turning his attention to Breanna’s gift. He lifted the lid on the box. Inside was a home-made Christmas cake. The enticing aroma of brandied fruit filled his nostrils.

He nodded and said, ‘Family recipe?’ then wished he hadn’t.

‘No. One of your tropical fruit specialties, actually.’ She rose and walked to the tree and picked up another box. ‘One more.’

‘Breanna. You shouldn’t have.’ Damn, he really meant it. She had no idea how uncomfortable she made him feel, and with Olivia watching on, he just wanted to walk out and leave the pair of them to their sentimental traditions.

Beneath the wrapping paper he found a beautifully bound album. Old leather. The kind that might have been a photograph album a long time ago. Its pages were empty. ‘What’s this for?’

‘I thought maybe if you had some old photos, you could put them in here with some of mine around the same time period. A kind of combined effort. And I’m hoping that we’re going to make some memories together to fill the latter pages.’

‘I don’t have any photos.’ Photos were memories and he didn’t want them. He didn’t do sentimental and nostalgia. Especially not for Christmas. ‘Excuse me, I’ve remembered I’ve got to make a couple of business calls.’ Pushing up, he strode to the door.

‘Where are you going?’ Olivia’s voice. ‘What about tomorrow? Are you in or out?’

He didn’t turn around. ‘Later.’

FIVE

‘That didn’t go
so well.’ Brie grabbed up a cushion and hugged it close. ‘The album idea was a mistake. I didn’t expect him to react that way.’

‘Not a mistake. He’s a chef—unpredictable—need we say more?’ But Olivia didn’t know his past so how could she judge? But business calls on Christmas Day? ‘Give him time, Brie.’ She sat next to her, smoothing the torn wrapping paper over her lap as she spoke. ‘Why don’t you give your sexy skipper a call and tell him you’re cleared for the rest of the afternoon? He’s single with an all-male crew, right? He’d probably love a bit of female company.’

Brie was slow in smiling but she unfolded herself and stood. ‘I might just do that. If you’re sure.’

‘Of course I am. I’m going to check on our ride for tomorrow, make sure everything’s okay, take a stroll around the harbour while I’m out.’ Anything to soothe tomorrow’s nervous anticipation. ‘See you later.’

* * *

An hour later Olivia walked downstairs on her way to the marina, going over last-minute details in her head. And Jett’s disappearance. This evening was the last chance for him and his sister to catch up before the race, and he’d walked out on her.

Following a hunch, she detoured via the bar and
bingo
—she saw Jett propped on a bar stool, a beer in his hands. Chatting up the long tall brunette beside him who looked as if she’d been poured into her shimmery red sheath. Reindeer antlers bobbed on her head as she talked and smiled and pushed her boobs into his personal space.

She counted herself lucky she and Jett hadn’t taken things further and watched the pair of them. On closer inspection, she noticed the brunette seemed to be doing most of the talking.

The woman he
should
have been talking with was Brie, but no. It just demonstrated oh-so-clearly that was how men were and why she didn’t waste her time with them.

Like her father’s decision to leave when Mum had got sick. Easier to walk away than to face the tough times. Like Brie’s dad—Jett’s father—who’d walked away from a child he’d made.

Jason who’d walked away because he didn’t like her sexual inexperience.

Maybe Jett felt her silent criticism because he turned and looked right at her.
Déjà vu.
Last night all over again, except this time Olivia was ready for the delicious onslaught. She wouldn’t be seduced a second time.

He slid off the stool without so much as a glance back at the woman he’d been talking with and headed Olivia’s way. Her jaw firmed as painful memories scratched over old scars. Like father like son. Olivia’s father hadn’t looked back either.

She watched the confident way he approached her, his long strides closing the gap between them, an almost-lift at one corner of his mouth. As if this afternoon hadn’t happened and he was ready to continue with Olivia where they’d left off last night.

She lifted both hands waist high, palms out in front of her. ‘I want to talk to you,’ she told him crisply across a couple or so metres of floor space.

‘Olivia. Nice name, by the way. We never got as far as introducing ourselves last night.’

His voice was casual but when he reached her she realised he wasn’t ready to carry her off and have his way with her after all. He had the attitude down pat, but the darker, almost distant glint in his already dark eyes told a different story. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’

‘What about your lady friend?’ Olivia jutted her chin towards the bar.

‘She’s not with me. I was being polite.’

Frustration seethed in her blood and her voice gathered strength as it rose. ‘You want to talk about polite?’

He took her arm, turned her around and steered her towards the door. ‘Why don’t we walk while we talk—unless you want an audience?’

‘Fine. I’m headed to the marina to check on our yacht.’ Then because she remembered telling Brie to give Jett time only an hour earlier, she injected a composure she didn’t feel into her voice and asked, ‘Would you care to join me?’

They hit the crowded, sun-baked footpath. Jett might have only just met Olivia but he’d known she’d hunt him down. He knew what she was going to say too, because he had to admit he’d been a bit of an ass. He was going to have to smooth things over.

Which was fine with him because he wanted to indulge his eyes awhile and see her again. He flicked his eyes her way and watched the sun tangle in her hair, setting it on fire. To breathe in that uniquely fragrant combination of warm and cool. To—

‘Did you have to be so rude to Brie? That album idea meant a lot. What the hell’s wrong with you?’

—And to watch the spark come alive while she told him what she thought of him.

He liked that spark. It seemed to light her from the inside and grew brighter with passion. It made him want to grab her right here, right now, and kiss the hell out of her and see if he couldn’t steal a little of that light for himself. ‘I’ll talk to Breanna. Explain.’

‘I hope so.’

As close as siblings, he thought. A childhood memory flitted darkly through his mind. His father telling Jett he couldn’t live with him because Breanna had taken his place. ‘Your loyalty’s touching.’

‘And your cynicism’s showing.’

‘Guess it is.’ He lengthened his stride so that she had to hurry to keep up.

‘Don’t you understand loyalty?’

‘Never had a reason to.’ He understood independence and self-sufficiency. Responsibility and achievement. He answered to no one and he liked it that way.

‘What about your staff?’

He frowned. ‘What about them?’

‘Don’t you appreciate their loyalty?’

‘I don’t have staff. Not long term.’

‘I wonder why,’ she muttered almost to herself.

‘Because I’m not in one place long enough.’

‘What about friends? Or don’t you have them either.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘I have acquaintances. No point making friends.’

She stared at him, obviously missing his logic. ‘Brie’s not just a friend,’ she pointed out. ‘She’s your sister. Blood.
Family.
’

Her impassioned words unsettled him. ‘In the New Year. I’ll work on it. Satisfied?’

‘Guess I’ll have to be.’

‘Hey, it’s Christmas, how about a truce?’

She skirted around a kid trying out his brand-new skateboard. ‘Okay, truce. For now. I don’t want your last night with Brie spoiled by our inability to understand one another.’

‘So where is she?’

‘Spending time with a guy since you walked out on her. She’ll be back later.’ They’d reached the marina where the yachts were moored. ‘Let’s talk about yachts instead,’ she said, and stepped out of her shoes. ‘Ever sailed in one of these?’

‘Took the
Spirit of Tasmania
across Bass Strait once.’ He spoke of the passenger and freight vessel linking Tasmania to the mainland.

‘Enjoy it?’

He rubbed the heel of his hand over his belly in wretched remembrance. ‘Even with a deluxe cabin it was eleven hours of pure hell.’

She nodded, swinging her shoes at her side. ‘Bass Strait can get pretty rough.’

He didn’t tell her they’d had smooth seas for the whole voyage. That he was no sailor in any way, shape or form.

They passed several magnificent craft while Olivia described each one in pretty impressive detail.

Then he saw
Chasing Dawn
bobbing gently on the water and his throat went dry. Was he actually considering—even remotely—going to sea in this child’s bath toy?

She interpreted his expression correctly. ‘She may be small but she’s proud and every last inch of her is seaworthy.’ On light feet, she almost skipped ahead and waved a hand towards it when he reached her. ‘Come aboard.’

He gestured. ‘After you.’

The deck tilted ever so slightly beneath him as he stepped on board behind her. He had an impression of ropes and canvas and an animated Olivia amidst the chaos.

‘You’re the first male to be invited aboard, so welcome. I hope that’s not a bad omen.’

Making reference to his earlier gaff about women and boats. Should’ve kept his mouth shut.

‘So do I.’ He could tell she was determined to impress him with her baby. So far
not
good. ‘Where’s the rest of the boat?’ he wanted to know, glancing at the end only a few metres away. Or was it called the stern? He was out of his depth.

‘Down here...’ Then she was descending through the hatch, leaving him to follow.

Humid, stuffy air met his nostrils.

He took in the surroundings—it didn’t take long. What was virtually a narrow tube of polished wood, glimpses of laminate and aluminium. A few envelope-sized windows. Claustrophobic was an apt description. So much for any ideas about getting
nautical
. ‘Do I get the grand tour?’

Olivia smiled, pride warming her all the way through. ‘Of course.’ A few moments later—because it really didn’t take long to tour the
Chasing Dawn
—Olivia pulled two bottles of mineral water from the fridge. ‘Have a seat.’ She set them on the tiny table between them, unscrewed hers and raised it. ‘Cheers.’

He did the same and they both drank.

Olivia hadn’t realised how small and cramped the vessel was until Jett had come aboard. How he seemed to have sucked all the oxygen from the air. How his skin looked more swarthy down here, the stubble thicker, blacker. He reminded her of a romantic version of a pirate. Except she doubted even imaginary pirates smelled this good; his suave woodsy cologne enticed her to breathe more deeply.

‘You’re planning roast quail tomorrow night.’ He gestured to below decks with his bottle. ‘Here?’

Even his voice sounded too rich for the space. It seemed to reverberate across the short distance between them and brush up against her chest like a hand. ‘That’s what the microwave’s for,’ she said. ‘Something special for our first night at sea.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not cooking; I’ve had it specially prepared.’

‘The skipper, eh.’ He cast another look around the cabin. ‘You’re an experienced sailor, then.’

‘My parents were dedicated yachts-people. I’ve sailed all my life.’ She tilted the bottle towards him. ‘You’re safe with me.’

He glanced around them again. ‘Safe from pirates?’ He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial murmur and she leaned closer almost without thought.

‘Pirates,’ she joked. ‘Off the coast of Tasmania. With helicopters and the press following our voyage?’

‘Yeah. Captain Jack Sparrow and company. Ever see any?’

There’d been a time off Madagascar, she recalled, and rubbed the sudden shiver from her arms. ‘They’re bloody and vicious and these days they use rocket propelled grenades and automatic rifles rather than the cannon and cutlass.’

‘You don’t find the notion of pirates romantic, then.’ He sounded almost disappointed.

‘Not in the least,’ she decided, brushing off her romantic vision of a piratical Jett. ‘So you can forget any pirate ways and whatever else you may have had in mind.’ She checked the time. ‘We’d better get going.’

‘Not yet. First we should discuss this attraction.’

Olivia almost choked on her water.

‘This crazy thing between us,’ he went on. ‘It could be awkward—best friends and brother.’

‘Very awkward. So we’ll put last night behind us. Forget it.’ Heat rose up her neck and into her cheeks and she glared at him, forced herself to hold his gaze. ‘We don’t need—’

‘I’ve heard the sound you make when you come. That soft bitey noise between a sigh and a scream.’

Oh. My. God.
‘I did
not
—’

‘But you did.’ His eyes crinkled, that delicious-looking mouth tilted up at the corners. ‘What’s more, I want to hear it again. You don’t think we should discuss it?’

She tipped her bottle to her lips, gulped as if she were dying of dehydration then cleared her throat. ‘Since a
discussion
involves two or more people, will you let me finish a sentence at least?’ When he cocked his head to one side, she firmed her chin and said, ‘We’ve acknowledged it and now we move on.’

‘I’ve acknowledged it. I’m not so sure about you,’ he said, tilting his bottle at her.

‘Okay. Yes. I acknowledge it. Satisfied?’

‘Not nearly.’ But his eyes twinkled, his lips twitched. ‘We need to get it out of the way if we’re going to be in such close quarters for the next few days.’

Her heart leapt into her throat then took a giant tumble. ‘You’re coming with us?’

‘Isn’t that what you want?’

‘No—yes... Um...’

‘You’ve changed your mind?’

‘No. No. Not at all. Brie’ll be thrilled.’

‘Not you?’

‘Of course. I’m happy too. Very happy. For Brie’s sake. And thank you,’ she finished.

‘Okay, I can live with that.’ Jett didn’t think he’d enjoyed anything more in a long time than watching a twitchy Olivia blush and stammer. It was almost worth taking this marine misadventure just to see her lost for words.

Almost.

She pushed her hair off her face, seemed to regain her composure and said, ‘You’d better get a good night’s rest, then, because you’ll need to familiarise yourself with the safety aspect before we leave. We need Brie.’ She tapped her phone. ‘Brie? I need you down at the marina asap.’ She smiled at something Breanna said. ‘Jett’s decided to join us.’ Pause. ‘No, I didn’t talk him into it. Okay, see you...um...how long do you think you’ll be?’ Pause. ‘Okay.’

She disconnected and pushed up. ‘Brie’s on her way. We rise at four a.m., race starts at one. I’ve got stuff to do.’

‘Wait just a damn minute. We still haven’t had our discussion.’

‘I don’t think we—’

‘Neither do I, Trouble, but here we are.’ If he was going to die at sea, he wanted to make sure it was worth it. He pushed up as well and stepped into her path at the edge of the table, and their bodies bumped.

He felt her breasts rise against his chest as she sucked in a breath and stared up at him. It wasn’t the only body part rising—and she knew that too.

The sea lapped softly against the hull and cast the late afternoon’s watery reflections across the boat’s interior, bathing them both in a blinding crimson glow.

She didn’t step back, nor did she encourage him. She simply continued watching him, expressionless but for the spark of heated arousal in her eyes that gave her away.