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Ruthless Seduction: Pleasured in the Billionaire's Bed / The Ruthless Marriage Proposal
Miranda Lee
The ruthless playboy’s seduction schemeWhen sexy, rakish Jack Cassidy set eyes on Lisa, he knew that he had to seduce her. Lisa was the ultimate ice princess – perfectly groomed and controlled. But it took just one unexpected, long, hot night to unleash the kind of passion to which she had never dared submit. . .Did it also leave her expecting? The boss and the housekeeper – he won’t let her leave him! Australian billionaire Sebastian Armstrong thinks he knows his housekeeper inside out. Emily’s prim, proper and dedicated to getting the job done.But beneath her plain-Jane exterior there’s a passionate woman determined to move on and forget that she fell in love with her handsome boss. . .



Praise
RED-HOT AUSTRALIANS
Visit sun-drenched Australia and feel the heat
in these two intense, passionate novels
by bestselling author
Miranda Lee
Ruthless Seduction
A collection of of two sensual, steamy novels
“In Miranda Lee’s enchanting The Ruthless Marriage Proposal, Emily deals with her unrequited love for her boss, Sebastian, by resigning. But he isn’t prepared to let her go. This Sydney-set novel makes for very enjoyable reading, and Lee does an excellent job of maintaining the sensual tone of their relationship.”
“Author Miranda Lee does an excellent job…Lisa’s an endearing character, and she and Jack make a great couple. Pleasured in the Billionaire’s Bed is a great book to cuddle up by the fire with.”
—Romantic Times BOOKReviews
RED-HOT AUSTRALIANS
Visit sun-drenched Australia and feel the heat in these two intense, passionate novels by bestselling author

Miranda Lee

Ruthless Seduction

A collection of of two sensual, steamy novels

“In Miranda Lee’s enchanting The Ruthless Marriage Proposal, Emily deals with her unrequited love for her boss, Sebastian, by resigning. But he isn’t prepared to let her go. This Sydney-set novel makes for very enjoyable reading, and Lee does an excellent job of maintaining the sensual tone of their relationship.”
“Author Miranda Lee does an excellent job…Lisa’s an endearing character, and she and Jack make a great couple. Pleasured in the Billionaire’s Bed is a great book to cuddle up by the fire with.”
—Romantic Times BOOKReviews

Red-Hot
Australians
Ruthless Seduction

Miranda Lee



www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Pleasured in the Billionaire’s Bed
MIRANDA LEE is Australian, living near Sydney. Born and raised in the bush, she was boarding-school educated and briefly pursued a career in classical music, before moving to Sydney and embracing the world of computers. Happily married, with three daughters, she began writing when family commitments kept her at home. She likes to create stories that are believable, modern, fast-paced and sexy. Her interests include meaty sagas, doing word puzzles, gambling and going to the movies.
Miranda Lee’s most recent novel, A Night, a Secret…a Child, was published by Mills & Boon in July in Modern™ romance.

Chapter One
LISA grimaced when the couple on the television screen started ripping each other’s clothes off.
‘As if people really act like that,’ she muttered as she reached for the remote.
If there was one thing Lisa couldn’t stand it was over-the-top love scenes in movies. As much as she appreciated she might not be a typical viewer, Lisa felt pretty sure sex was never the way it was portrayed in Hollywood.
She literally cringed when the man lifted the by now half-naked woman onto the kitchen counter and thrust into her. Or pretended to. The camera was on their faces. When the grunting and groaning started, Lisa pressed her finger firmly on the off button. She’d had enough of watching such ridiculous goings-on, thank you very much. Time to go upstairs and make sure Cory was asleep. It was after nine o’clock and tomorrow was a school day.
Lisa was halfway up the stairs when the phone rang.
Darn, she thought as she hurried on up the stairs and turned left, popping her head into Cory’s bedroom on the way to her own bedroom.
Good, he was asleep.
Once in her bedroom, she closed the door behind her—so as not to risk waking her son—and picked up the cordless phone.
‘Hello,’ she said, fully expecting it to be her mother at this hour. All her girlfriends were married with children and were too busy each evening for gossipy chats.
‘It’s Gail, Lisa,’ a woman’s voice said down the line. ‘Gail Robinson.’
Lisa decided she’d best sit down. When one of her employees rang her on her personal line on a week night, it usually meant there was some problem or other.
‘Hi, Gail. What’s up?’
‘I’ve sprained my ankle,’ Gail said dispiritedly. ‘Slipped down that rotten steep driveway of ours. I’ve been sitting here with my foot in a bucket of iced water for ages but it’s still up like a balloon. There’s no way I can do Jack Cassidy’s place tomorrow.’
Lisa frowned. Jack Cassidy was one of her newer clients. Sandra—her assistant-cum-bookkeeper—had signed him up whilst Lisa was away with Cory on a week’s cruise of the South Pacific during the recent school holidays. A bachelor, Mr Cassidy owned a penthouse apartment in Terrigal which apparently had acres of tiled floors and took ages to clean. He also liked his sheets and towels changed and his weekly linen washed, dried and put away, not something her cleaners usually did. Their standard service lasted four hours and covered cleaning all floors, bathrooms and kitchens, not doing laundry or windows. Laundry could be very time-consuming and windows dangerous.
But he’d apparently talked Sandra into finding someone who would do the extra.
Gail took five hours to do everything, for which Clean-in-a-Day was paid one hundred and fifty dollars, with Gail’s cut being one hundred and twenty. Their rates were very competitive.
‘I’m really sorry to let you down at the last minute,’ Gail said unhappily.
‘That’s all right. I’ll get someone else.’
‘On a Friday?’
Lisa knew why Gail sounded sceptical. Friday was the busiest day for housecleaning. Everyone wanted their homes to be clean for the weekend. Clean in a Day was fully booked on Fridays. Lisa had a couple of names she could ring if she was really desperate, but they were women who had not been through her rigorous training course and might not clean as thoroughly as she liked.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said briskly. ‘I’ll do it myself. And Gail…’
‘Yes?’
‘Don’t stress about the money. You’ll still get paid.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘I’m well aware how tight things are for you at the moment.’
Gail’s husband had been made redundant a few weeks earlier. She really needed her cleaning money.
‘That’s very good of you,’ she choked out.
Lisa winced. Dear heaven, please don’t let her start crying.
‘Will you be up at the school tomorrow afternoon to pick up the kids?’ she asked quickly.
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll give you your money then.’
‘Gosh, I don’t know what to say.’
‘Don’t say a word. Especially not to the other girls. Can’t have my sergeant-major reputation tarnished. They’ll think I’ve become a soft touch and start taking advantage.’
Gail laughed. ‘I can’t see that happening. You have a very formidable air about you, you know.’
‘So I’m told.’
‘You always look so perfect as well. That’s rather intimidating.’
‘It’s just the way I am,’ she said defensively.
Lisa had heard such criticisms before. From girlfriends. From her mother. Even her husband. When he’d been alive…
Greg had complained incessantly about her compulsive need to have everything look right all the time. The house. The garden. Herself. The baby. Him.
‘Why don’t you lighten up a bit?’ he’d thrown at her more than once. ‘You’re nothing like your mother. She’s so easygoing. I thought daughters were supposed to be like their mothers!’
Lisa shuddered at the thought of being like her mother.
Despite Greg’s nagging, she held on to the belief he hadn’t really wanted her to be like her mother. He’d certainly liked inviting people back to their house, knowing she and it would always be neat and tidy.
‘By the way, I don’t have keys to Mr Cassidy’s place,’ Gail said, reefing Lisa’s mind back to the problem at hand. ‘He’s always home on a Friday. I just press the button for the penthouse at the security entrance and he lets me in.’
Lisa’s top lip curled. Pity. She hated having a client around when she cleaned.
‘He’s a writer of some sort,’ Gail added. ‘Works from home.’
‘I see.’
‘Don’t worry. He won’t bother you. He stays in his study most of the time. Only comes out to make coffee. Which reminds me. Don’t attempt to clean his study. Or even to go in. He made that clear to me on my first day. His study is off limits.’
‘That’s fine by me. One less room to clean.’
‘That’s exactly what I thought.’
‘Will I have a parking problem?’ Lisa asked.
Terrigal was the place to live on the Central Coast. Only an hour and a half’s drive north from Sydney, it had everything to attract tourists. The prettiest beach. Great shops and cafés. And a five-star hotel, right across from the water.
The only minus was demand for parking spaces.
‘No worries,’ Gail said. ‘There are several guest bays at the back of the building. You have the address, don’t you? It’s on the main drag, halfway up the hill, just past the Crowne Plaza.’
‘I’ll find it. Well, I’d better get going, Gail. Have to have everything shipshape tonight if I’m to be out all day tomorrow.’
Which she would be. Terrigal Beach was a good fifteen-minute drive from where she lived at Tumbi Umbi. If she dropped Cory off at school at nine, she’d be cleaning by nine-thirty, finished by two-thirty, then back to pick up Cory at three.
‘See you at the school around three. Bye.’
Lisa hung up and hurried back downstairs, making a mental list of jobs-to-do as she went. Load dishwasher. Hang out washing. Wipe over tiles. Iron Cory’s uniform. Get both their lunches ready. Decide what to wear.
Loading the dishwasher wasn’t exactly rocket science and Lisa found her thoughts drifting to tomorrow.
Penthouses in Terrigal were not cheap. So its owner was probably rich.
A writer, Gail had said. A successful writer, obviously.
No, not necessarily. Jack Cassidy could be a wealthy playboy who’d inherited his money and dabbled in writing as a hobby.
When Lisa started wondering if he was good-looking, she pulled herself up quite sharply. What did she care if he was good-looking or not?
She had no intention of dating, or ever getting married again. She had no reason to. And she had every reason not to.
For once you let a man into your life, sooner or later he would want sex.
The unfortunate truth was Lisa didn’t like sex. Never had. Never would. No use pretending.
She found sex yucky. And no pleasure at all. Not quite repulsive, but close to.
She’d suspected this about herself from the moment her mother had told her the facts of life at the age of ten, a suspicion which had grown over her teenage years, then was confirmed, at the age of nineteen, when she’d finally given in and slept with Greg. Though only after they’d got engaged. And only because she’d known she’d lose him if she didn’t.
He’d thought she would warm to lovemaking in time. But she never had. Sex during her marriage had been given grudgingly, and increasingly less often with the passing of time, especially after Cory was born. It was not surprising that she hadn’t fallen pregnant again.
Lisa had been shattered by her husband’s tragic death when she was twenty-five and poor Greg only twenty-eight. She had loved him in her own way. But she never wanted to go there again. Never wanted to feel guilty about something she had no control over.
Lisa knew she could never force herself to like physical intimacy. So the only sensible solution was to remain single and celibate, even if it meant she sometimes felt lonely.
Lately, she’d been feeling very lonely. Which was odd. She was busier than ever with the business. And her son was always on the go. Her leisure hours were filled with taking him to his various school and sporting activities.
It was at night, after Cory had gone to bed, that she felt the loneliest. She missed having someone there to talk to. Or to sit with whilst she watched television.
Her one solace was reading. She loved books, especially thrillers. Loved the way they could take her away from her day-to-day, rather humdrum existence into a world of excitement and suspense. Her current favourites were a series of action novels written by an Australian author, Nick Freeman.
Lisa had never read anything like them. They were simply unputdownable. During the last few months, she’d devoured all five of them.
Unfortunately, she’d finished the last one a few nights back, and passed it on to her mother, as she had the others in the series.
By comparison, the new book by another author that she’d brought home from the library yesterday seemed tame. And boring. Which meant she wasn’t looking forward to going to bed tonight, as she had when she knew she was going to be swept away into Hal Hunter’s rather wicked but fascinating world.
Whenever Lisa didn’t have a good book to read at night, sleep would often elude her. She suspected that tonight would be one such night.
‘Cleaning that penthouse tomorrow will do you good, Lisa, my girl,’ she told herself as she closed the dishwasher door. ‘Make you really tired.’
The thought occurred to her that she should ring Jack Cassidy and let him know of the change in his cleaning arrangements. It could prove awkward, explaining things on his doorstep in the morning.
Lisa turned on the dishwasher and trudged back upstairs, turning right this time and making her way down to the fourth bedroom, which she’d converted into a study soon after starting up her business. It was not a large room, but large enough to house her computer.
It only took her a few seconds to bring up Jack Cassidy’s file and to print out his address and phone number.
Lisa picked up her fax-phone, punched in the number, than sank back into her office chair as she waited for her client to answer.
Several rings went by before a deep, gruff voice snapped, ‘Yep?’
‘Mr Cassidy?’ she said in her best business voice. ‘Mr Jack Cassidy?’
‘Yeah, that’s me. And who might you be?’
‘My name is Lisa, Mr Cassidy. Lisa Chapman. I’m from—’
‘Stop right there, sweetheart. Look, I know you’re probably only doing your job but I’ve had a gutful of telemarketers ringing me at all hours of the day and night. This is my private and personal number and I keep it for private and personal calls. If I want something, I go out and buy it. From a shop. I don’t even buy over the internet. I also never answer stupid bloody surveys. Do I make myself clear?’
Clear as crystal, Lisa thought with a mixture of empathy and frustration. She too hated people trying to sell things to her over the phone and had recently started being less than polite when telemarketers called her in the evenings.
But he could have had the decency to wait till he found out if she was one of those.
Lisa opened her mouth to clarify her identity when she heard the unmistakable click of the call being terminated.
Her head jerked back to stare down at her handset. He’d hung up on her! The hide of him!
After slamming her own phone back down, Lisa sat there for a full minute with her hands clenched over the arm-rests of the chair and her teeth gritted together. Never in all her life had anyone hung up on her. Never ever!
Don’t take it personally, her brain argued.
But it was difficult not to. Men were supposed to be polite to women, no matter what. And he’d been rude. Very rude.
What to do? No point in trying his number again. He’d probably hang up on her before she got two words out. And if he did that, she’d blow a gasket.
She glared at his printed-out file. It showed no email number. Clearly, he was a privacy freak. Or he just didn’t like computers. Or the internet. Maybe he wrote in longhand.
He did have a fax number, she noted. She could send him a fax, explaining the situation. But something inside Lisa rebelled against giving Jack Cassidy that courtesy.
No, she would just show up on his doorstep in the morning and have great pleasure watching him cringe with embarrassment, once she explained who she was.

Chapter Two
LISA’S stomach tightened as she drove across Terrigal Bridge and turned left at the small roundabout.
Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea not to fax Jack Cassidy last night. Embarrassing the man no longer held such appeal this morning. She was the one who was going to end up being embarrassed.
Lisa scooped in a deep, lung-filling breath as she drove up the hill, then let it out slowly, relaxing her stomach muscles and reassuring herself that there was nothing for her to be embarrassed about. Or to feel nervous about. She was being silly. This was just another cleaning job. One she’d never have to repeat, thank goodness.
Feeling marginally better, Lisa glanced around as she drove down the hill which led to Terrigal Beach. She hadn’t been out this way for ages. When she took Cory to the beach these days, they usually went to Wamberal, or Shelly’s Beach. Terrigal’s cove-like shape meant it rarely had a big surf, which was great for tourists and families, but not relished by nine-year-old thrill-seekers.
But my, it was beautiful, especially when the sun was shining. Although it was still only springtime, the beach had a fair share of people in the water, and even more stretched out on the golden sand.
Lisa could see why wealthy Sydneysiders bought beach-houses here. And penthouse apartments. Especially ones whose balconies faced north, with an unimpeded view of the sparkling blue sea and the long stretch of coastline.
Jack Cassidy’s place would have all that, Lisa realised by the time she turned into the driveway of the pale blue, cement-rendered apartment block. Despite the building only being three storeys high, its position was second to none.
Lisa’s nervous tension had returned with a vengeance by the time she walked round to the front entrance and pressed the button marked ‘Penthouse’ on the security panel.
‘Come on up, Gail,’ Jack Cassidy’s deep male voice growled through the intercom.
Lisa opened her mouth to explain once again who she was when the intercom clicked off and the front door began to buzz.
Giving vent to a groan of sheer frustration, Lisa pushed her way in, the door automatically closing and locking behind her.
She just stood there for a long moment, trying to calm her thudding heart. What was it about this man which rattled her so? She was normally very cool when it came to dealing with difficult clients and situations. Cool and composed.
Time for some coolness and composure right now, Lisa, she lectured herself as she practised some more deep breathing, taking in her surroundings at the same time.
The foyer was cool and spacious, with a marble-tiled floor and lots of windows. Despite the amount of glass, you couldn’t hear the traffic or the sea from inside, which meant the windows had to be double-glazed. A no-expense-spared building, Lisa conceded as she bypassed the lift at the back of the foyer to take the stairs, walking briskly up the grey-carpeted steps to the top floor.
No large foyer up there. Possibly the architect hadn’t wanted to waste valuable floor space, although the landing was large enough to have a hall stand and wall mirror set beside the one and only door, perhaps put there for people to check their appearance before knocking.
Before she could do little more than give her face a cursory glance, the door was wrenched open by a very tall, very tanned, very fit-looking man in dark blue jeans and a chest-hugging white T-shirt.
Jack Cassidy, Lisa presumed, her neck craning a little as she looked up into his face.
He wasn’t handsome. Not the way Greg had been handsome. But he was attractive, despite the three-day growth on his chin and the hard, almost cold grey eyes which swept over her from head to toe.
‘You’re not Gail,’ were his first words, delivered with his now familiar lack of charm.
Lisa bristled inside, but maintained what she hoped was a professional expression.
‘You’re absolutely correct,’ came her crisp reply. ‘I’m Lisa Chapman from Clean-in-a-Day. Gail sprained her ankle yesterday and won’t be able to do your place today. I did try to explain this to you last night on the phone, but you hung up on me.’
He didn’t look embarrassed at all. He just shrugged. ‘Sorry. You should have said who you were up front.’
If apologies had been an Olympic event, his would not have even qualified for a semi-final.
‘You didn’t exactly give me much opportunity,’ she said with a tight little smile. ‘But not to worry. I’m here now and I’ll be doing your place today.’
‘You have to be kidding me.’
Lisa gritted her teeth. ‘Not at all.’
His eyes flicked over her again, this time with a coolly sceptical expression. ‘You’re going to clean in that get-up?’
‘I don’t see why not,’ came Lisa’s tart reply.
She had never subscribed to the theory that a cleaner had to look like a chimney sweep. Today she was wearing white stretch Capri pants, white trainers and a chocolate-brown singlet top which showed off her nicely toned arms and honey-coloured skin. Her platinum-blonde hair was up in a white scrunchie, the way she always wore it when cleaning. Her jewellery was a simple gold chain around her neck, a narrow gold watch on her wrist and small gold hoops in her ears. Her make-up was subtle and so was her perfume. In her roomy straw hold-all—currently slung over her shoulder—was a navy, chef-size apron and two pairs of cleaning gloves, along with her calorie-friendly packed lunch and a bottle of chilled mineral water.
‘I assure you I will leave here with your place spotless and without a mark on my clothes,’ she informed him, a tad haughtily.
‘You know what, sweetheart? I believe you.’
Lisa gritted her teeth. She was within a hair’s breadth of telling him she was not his sweetheart, but the owner of Clean-in-a-Day, when he stepped back and waved her inside.
The uninterrupted sight of the spectacular living area compelled Lisa to forget her irritation, her love of all things beautiful drawing her forward till she was standing in the middle of the spacious room, surrounded by the sort of place she dreamt about owning one day. She almost sighed over the huge tinted windows, the amazing view, the acres of cream marble tiles and the wonderfully clean lines of the furniture. Nothing fussy. Everything classy and expensive. Cool leathers, in cream and a muted gold colour. The coffee- and side-tables were made of a pale wood. The rugs blended in. Nothing bright or gaudy.
Ever since she’d been a child, Lisa had hated bright colours, both in décor and clothes. She could not bear the recent fashion of putting loud, clashing colours together, oranges with pinks, and electric blues with lime greens. She literally shuddered whenever she saw red anywhere near purple.
‘I do realise that there are a lot of tiles to clean,’ he said abruptly from just behind her. ‘But Gail never had a problem.’
Lisa swung round to face him, grateful that he hadn’t thought she’d been envying him his house.
‘They won’t be any problem to me, either,’ she said swiftly. ‘I’ve been cleaning houses for years.’
‘You continue to amaze me. You look like you’ve never had a chipped fingernail in your life.’
‘Looks can be deceiving, Mr Cassidy.’
‘For pity’s sake, call me Jack. Now, a few instructions before I get back to work. Do you know about the extras I like done?’
‘You wish your sheets and towels to be changed, washed, dried and put away.’
His eyebrows lifted, then fell, his expression betraying a slight disappointment that he hadn’t caught her out in some way.
‘You’ll find everything you need in the laundry,’ he told her. ‘My bedroom is the last door on the left down that hallway,’ he said, pointing to his right. ‘My study is the first door. Did Gail warn you I don’t like to be disturbed when I work?’
‘She did mention it. She said you were a writer of some sort.’
Lisa almost asked him what kind of books he wrote, but pulled herself up in time. She’d always instructed her cleaners during their training never to become too familiar with male clients, especially ones who were in the house whilst they cleaned.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a wry fashion. ‘Yeah. A writer of some sort just about describes me at the moment.’
The sound of a telephone ringing somewhere in the penthouse brought a scowl to his face. ‘Damn! I should have switched on the answering machine. Still, I doubt it’s telemarketers at this hour in the morning. I’d better answer the darned thing,’ he grumbled before turning and marching off down the hallway to his right. ‘You might not see me later,’ he called back over his shoulder. ‘I’m on a deadly deadline. Your money’s on the kitchen counter. If I don’t surface, just leave when you’re finished.’
When he disappeared into his study and shut the door after him Lisa was flooded by a weird wave of disappointment.
The realisation that she’d actually been enjoying their conversation shocked her. What was there to like about it? Or about him?
Absolutely nothing, she decided emphatically as she whirled and went in search of the laundry.

Chapter Three
JACK plonked himself down in front of his computer before snatching up the nearby phone.
‘Jack Cassidy,’ he answered, leaning back into his large and very comfy office chair.
‘Jack, it’s Helene.’
‘I had a feeling it might be you,’ he said drily. Helene hadn’t become a top literary agent by letting her clients fall down on the job. This was her fourth call this week.
‘Have you finished the book yet?’
‘I’m on the last chapter.’
‘Your publisher in London has been on to me again. He said if you don’t deliver that manuscript by the end of this week, he might not be able to get it on the shelves for the British and North American summers. And you know what that means. Lower sales.’
‘It’ll be there, Helene. Tonight.’
‘Is that a promise?’
‘Have I ever let you down before?’
‘No. But that’s because I hound you to death. Which brings me to the other reason for this call. The annual literary-awards dinner is tomorrow night. You’re the hot favourite for the Golden Gun award again, so you will show up, won’t you?’
‘Wild horses won’t keep me away, Helene.’
Although he wasn’t overly fond of award nights, Jack was actually looking forward to going out tomorrow night. It had been weeks since he’d socialised in any way, shape or form. Weeks, too, since he’d slept with a woman, a fact brought home to him this morning when he’d answered the door and found a drop-dead gorgeous blonde standing there, instead of plump, homely Gail.
Despite her hoity-toity, touch-me-not manner, Lisa Chapman had certainly reminded him that there was more to life than work.
Too bad she was married. Jack’s observant eyes had noted the rings on her left hand within seconds of her introducing herself.
‘Jack! Are you there?’
‘Yeah, yeah, I’m here, Helene. Just wool-gathering.’
‘Thinking about that last chapter, I hope.’
‘All the time.’
Jack hated last chapters. He had a tendency to want to end his stories with a happily-ever-after scene. But that would be so wrong for a Hal Hunter book, especially at this stage in the series. Jack needed to come up with something seriously anti-heroish for his hero to do this time to finish up on. Couldn’t have his readers start thinking Hal was some kind of saint, just because he went around making sure the baddies got their comeuppances.
Jack knew that it was Hal’s political incorrectness which appealed to his fans. They enjoyed Hal doing what they would never dare do themselves. They thrilled to his ruthlessness, plus his uncompromising sense of justice and vengeance.
‘I’d better get back to work, Helene.’
‘Fine. But one last thing about tomorrow night. Do try to bring a girl who’s read a book this time, will you?’
Jack laughed. The blonde he’d taken to the awards dinner last year had been none too bright, something he hadn’t realised when he’d first met her on Bondi Beach and asked her to come with him. He’d been distracted at the time by how well she’d filled out her bikini.
By the end of the evening, any desire he’d originally felt for her had well and truly disappeared. He’d taken her straight home, much to her obvious disappointment.
‘Look, I’ll probably come alone.’
‘I find that hard to believe. Jack Cassidy, without a gorgeous blonde on his arm?’
‘I don’t just take out blondes,’ he protested.
‘Yes, you do. The same way Hal does.’
Jack’s eyebrows rose. He hadn’t realised.
Still, there was no gorgeous blonde in his life at the moment, except for the very beautiful girl who was currently cleaning his penthouse.
If only she wasn’t married…
Some people tagged Jack as a womaniser. But he wasn’t. Married women were off limits in his view, no matter how attractive they were.
On the other hand, Hal was a womaniser. The so-called hero in Jack’s books wouldn’t have cared less if Lisa Chapman was married. Not one iota.
This last thought flashed a light on in Jack’s head.
‘Get off the phone, Helene. I’ve just had a brilliant idea for my last chapter.’
‘Can I take any credit?’
‘None whatsoever. I’ll see you tomorrow night.’
Jack hung up and set to work with renewed gusto, plunging into the final chapter, smiling wickedly to himself as Hal blotted his hero status with the beautiful blonde housemaid who’d come to change the linen in his hotel room. She was married, of course. But she forgot about that once Hal went into seduction mode. The girl knew that he was just using her. But the fiery passion in his kisses proved irresistible. She felt powerless to say no, powerless to stop him.
Hal made love to her several times, making her do things she’d never done before. But she thrilled to her own unexpected wantonness.
The last page saw her dressing afterwards, then bending over the bed to kiss the tattoo on Hal’s bare shoulder.
He didn’t stir. He seemed to be asleep. He didn’t want her any more and she knew it. She sighed as she left the room. Only then did Hal roll over and reach for a cigarette. He lit up and dragged in deeply. His eyes were blank and cold.
‘Done!’ Jack muttered as he punched in ‘THE END’, then copied everything onto two flash discs, putting one in his top-drawer and the other into the lead-lined safe he’d had built into the bottom drawer. Jack believed in solid security. He would read the last chapter through again later this afternoon before emailing the manuscript to London, but he felt sure he’d got it right.
Of course, there would be a hue and cry from his editor. She’d complain that his hero was getting too dark. But he’d weather the storm and have his way. And his readers would love it.
Jack chuckled when he thought of Hollywood’s reaction. But they’d just have to like it or lump it as well. Helene had done a fabulous job, not only selling options for all the Hal Hunter books—including those not written yet—to a top movie studio for an absolute fortune, but also in forcing them to sign a rock-solid contract. They had to bring his books to the screen as he’d written them. No changes in titles, plot-lines, settings or characters. Definitely no changes to endings.
Jack wondered who they’d cast for the blonde in this last scene. Not anyone obvious or voluptuous, he hoped. Someone slender and classy-looking. Someone like Mrs Hoity-Toity out there.
Damn, but she’d stirred his hormones. A lot.
For a split-second, Jack toyed with the temptation of making her an indecent proposition. But he quickly got over it.
He was not Hal. He did not seduce married women.
Neither did he right the dreadful wrongs in this world.
That only happened in fiction. In the real world, the baddies didn’t get their comeuppances. They lived on with their millions and their mistresses. They destroyed countries and slaughtered innocent people, but rarely faced punishment.
Jack grimaced. Not that bandwagon again, he lectured himself. There was nothing you could do back then. Nothing you could ever do. None of it was your fault.
Jack’s brain knew that. But his heart didn’t always feel the same, that unexpectedly sensitive heart which had been stripped bare by his experiences in the army.
Despite not having worn a soldier’s uniform for six years, the memories of all Jack had witnessed still haunted him. He would never forget. Or forgive.
But at least now, with the success of his books, he’d rediscovered some pleasure in living.
Which brought him right back to one pleasure he’d been doing without lately.
‘What you need is to get laid,’ he muttered to himself as he rose from his chair and left his study.

Lisa was bending over, about to take the towels out of the front-loading washing machine, when she sensed someone standing behind her.
Even before she straightened and spun around, she knew it was Jack Cassidy.
He was standing in the laundry doorway, watching her with those steely grey eyes of his.
‘Can I help you?’ she snapped, annoyed with the way her heart had started pounding.
‘I didn’t mean to startle you,’ he returned. ‘You can put my study on your cleaning list as well now. I’ve finished my book.’
‘You want me to clean your study on top of everything else?’ she asked, her voice still sharp.
‘I’ll pay you extra.’
‘It’s not a matter of money, Mr Cassidy, but time. I have to be gone from here by two-thirty to pick up my son from school.’
‘I see. You can’t get anyone else to pick him up?’
‘No. I can’t.’
‘Could you come back tomorrow perhaps? My study hasn’t been cleaned for a few weeks, and frankly, it’s a mess.’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t do it tomorrow, either.’ Lisa was beginning to regret not telling him she was the owner of Clean-in-a-Day, not just a contract cleaner. But it was too late now. He’d think she was weird for not mentioning it sooner.
‘Why not?’ he persisted. ‘Will your husband object, is that it?’
‘What? No. No, I don’t have a husband,’ she confessed.
‘But you’re wearing a wedding ring,’ he said, confusion in his face and voice.
‘I’m a widow.’

Chapter Four
JACK hoped he didn’t look as gobsmacked by this news as he felt. Or as excited.
A widow no less. Now, that was a different ball game entirely.
‘But you’re so young,’ he remarked whilst his brain started making plans which his body definitely approved of.
‘I’m thirty,’ she retorted.
‘You don’t look it.’
‘I’ve always looked young for my age.’
‘What happened to your husband?’
‘He died in an accident, five years ago.’
‘A car accident?’
‘No. He fell off the roof of our house.’
‘Good lord. That must have been dreadful for you.’
‘It was,’ she replied stiffly.
‘Do you have any other children?’
‘No. Just the one,’ she told him. ‘Cory. He’s nine.’
Nine! She must have married very young. Either that, or she’d fallen pregnant before the wedding.
No. Jack didn’t think that would have happened. Mrs Lisa Chapman wasn’t the sort of girl who had unplanned pregnancies.
‘Is your son the problem, then?’ he asked. ‘Can’t you get someone to look after him tomorrow morning?’
‘No, I can’t.’
Mmm. No live-in boyfriend, then.
He was tempted to suggest she bring the boy with her, but decided that was going a bit fast. Jack was smart enough to realise that was not the way to go with this particular lady. She was what he and his mates in the army had used to call an ice princess. Back then, they’d all steered well clear of ice princesses, none of them having the money or the time it took to melt them.
If he wanted to know his cleaner better—and his body kept screaming at him that he did—Jack would have to be super-patient. And super-subtle.
‘OK,’ he said with a nonchalant shrug. ‘Tell me what else you’ve got left to do. It can’t be the kitchen. I’ve just been through there and it positively gleamed at me.’
His compliment surprised Lisa. As did his change in manner. Where had the grumpy guy gone who’d answered the phone last night? And who’d let her in this morning?
Finishing his book had certainly changed his personality.
But Lisa could understand that. When she finished a job, she often experienced a rush of warmth and well-being.
Cleaning the kitchen in this penthouse had brought considerable satisfaction. But then, what a magnificent kitchen it was! Lisa had never seen anything like it before. The bench tops were made of cream marble. The cupboards, a light warm wood. The appliances, stainless steel.
It had been such a pleasure to clean. As had the rest of the penthouse. But she hadn’t finished yet.
‘I have to iron these towels and put them away,’ she said. ‘And I haven’t washed any of the tiles yet.’
‘Aah yes, the dreaded tiles. What say you leave them and tackle my study instead?’
Lisa stared down at the tiles around her. They really needed doing. She would not feel right leaving them undone. Neither did she want to come back tomorrow morning. There was something about Jack Cassidy which still perturbed her. She wasn’t sure what.
‘If I hurry, I should be able to do everything,’ she said. ‘It’s only ten past one.’

Jack could not believe it when she set to work at a speed which made his head spin. This girl was a cleaner to beat all cleaners. Focused, and very fast. By ten to two, all the tiled floors were shining and she bustled off in the direction of his study, vacuum cleaner and feather duster in hand.
There hadn’t been a single opportunity to chat her up in any way. It was work, work and more work. His chances of asking her to come to the dinner with him tomorrow night were fast running out. On top of that, Jack wasn’t sure she’d say yes, anyway. Not once today had she looked at him with any interest, which was highly unusual. Most women found him attractive.
Maybe she had a boyfriend. Or maybe he just wasn’t her type.
This last thought rankled. But there wasn’t much he could do about it. If she didn’t fancy him, she didn’t fancy him.
Shaking his head, Jack brewed himself some coffee and was about to take it out onto the terrace when she materialised in the kitchen doorway, a strange look on her face.
‘Yes?’ he said.
‘Are you Nick Freeman?’
‘That’s the name I write under. Yes.’
‘Oh, my!’
Jack wasn’t sure if that was a sign she was a fan. Or not.
Either way, he’d finally snared her interest.
‘You’ve read some of my books?’ he asked.
‘All of them.’
‘And what did you think?’
‘I loved them.’
Even better. Clearly, Nick Freeman was her type. Or maybe it was wicked old Hal which brought that excited sparkle into her lovely blue eyes.
‘Now, that’s music to a writer’s ears. Come and have coffee with me and tell me more.’
‘But I haven’t finished your study yet. In fact, I’ve hardly started. When I saw your books on the shelves, I…I—’
‘Forget the study,’ he interrupted, pleased as punch with this development. ‘I’d much rather have my ego stroked. How do you like your coffee?’
‘What? Oh—er—black, with no sugar.’
‘A true coffee-lover. Like me,’ he added with a smile. ‘Now, don’t give me any more objections, Lisa. I’m the boss here.’
She didn’t like taking orders, he could see. Or not finishing her job. But he insisted and she grudgingly complied, sitting opposite him at the table on the terrace, primly sipping her cup of coffee whilst he attempted to draw her out some more.
Jack was careful not to stray from the subject of books. He’d noted that the moment he’d smiled at her, a frosty wariness had crept into her face.
She was widely read, he soon realised. And very intelligent. Clearly, she was wasted as a cleaner.
When she started glancing at her wrist-watch, however, Jack decided he could not wait much longer before making his move. If he let her leave, she might never come back. Next Friday, it would be homely Gail showing up to clean his penthouse and that would be that.
‘I have to go to the annual literary-awards dinner tomorrow night in Sydney,’ he said. ‘One of my books is a finalist in the Golden Gun award for best thriller of the year.’
She put down her cup. ‘Which one?’
‘The Kiss Of Death.’
‘Oh, you’ll win. That was a great book.’
‘Thank you. You’re very kind. Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.’
Jack had had various reactions from women to his asking them out. But not once had a female stared at him the way Lisa Chapman was currently staring at him. As if he’d asked her to climb Mount Everest. In her bare feet.
‘You mean…as your date?’ she choked out.
‘Yes, of course.’
She blinked, then shook her head.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t date.’
Jack could not have been more stunned. Didn’t date? What kind of crazy lifestyle was that for a beautiful young woman whose husband had been dead for five years?
‘What do you mean, you don’t date?’ Jack shot back at her.
Her eyes flashed resentment at him for questioning her. ‘I mean, I don’t date,’ she repeated firmly.
‘Why on earth not?’
She stood up abruptly, her shoulders straightening, her expression turning haughty. ‘I think that’s my private business, don’t you?’
Jack stood up also, his face just as uncompromising. ‘You can’t blame me for being curious. And for being disappointed. I was enjoying your company just now. I thought you were enjoying mine.’
She looked a little flummoxed by this last statement. ‘Well, yes, I was,’ she said, almost as though the concept surprised her.
‘Then come to the dinner with me.’
She hesitated, but then shook her head again, quite vigorously. ‘I’m sorry. I…I can’t.’
Can’t, she’d said. Not won’t.
Can’t suggested there was some other reason why she was saying no. Other than her ridiculous claim that she didn’t date.
The penny suddenly dropped. Maybe she had no one to mind her son. And not enough money to pay for a sitter. Cleaners who only worked during school hours couldn’t earn all that much. Maybe she didn’t have any suitable clothes, either. Despite her very smart appearance today, Jack knew evening wear cost a lot.
‘I’ll pay for a sitter,’ he offered. ‘And buy you a suitable dress, if you don’t have one.’
Her mouth dropped open again, her eyes glittering this time with more anger than shock. ‘I have more than enough money to do both,’ she snapped. ‘For your information, Mr Cassidy, I am not an employee of Clean-in-a-Day. I own the company!’
For the second time that day, Jack was totally gobsmacked. Then pretty angry himself. ‘Well, why didn’t you say so? Why pretend you were a lowly cleaner?’
‘Lowly? What’s lowly about being a cleaner? It’s honest work, with honest pay.’
‘Yes, you’re right. I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘No, you shouldn’t. And you shouldn’t have tried to buy me just now. Maybe that’s what men do in your world, but they don’t in mine.’
‘I wasn’t trying to buy you.’
‘Yes, you were,’ she said, crossing her arms and giving him a killer look. ‘Don’t try to weasel your way out of it.’
Jack could feel his level of frustration rising as it hadn’t risen in years. ‘Why don’t you get off your high horse for a moment and stop overreacting! I wasn’t trying to buy you. I was trying to overcome any obstacles which I thought might be in your path. Because I can’t believe that a beautiful young woman like yourself would choose not to date. I presumed it had to be because of some other reason.’
‘Then you’d be wrong. I did choose not to date after my husband died.’
‘But that doesn’t make sense, Lisa. Most young widows marry again. How do you expect to meet anyone if you lock yourself in your house and never go out?’
‘I don’t lock myself in my house. And I have no intention of ever getting married again.’
Jack noted the emphasis on the ever, plus the emotional timbre of her voice. Clearly, this was a subject which touched a nerve.
An old friend of Jack’s—an army widow—had once told him that there were two reasons women decided not to marry again. They either had been so happy and so in love with their husbands they believed no other man would ever compare. Or they had been so miserable, they didn’t want to risk putting their lives into the hands of a rotter a second time.
Jack didn’t know enough about Lisa yet to decide which was her reason.
‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to get married, either, even once. But don’t you get bored? And lonely?’
A frustrated-sounding sigh escaped her lips as she uncrossed her arms. ‘Boredom and loneliness are not the worst things in this world.’
‘They come pretty high on my list.’ Jack had a very low boredom threshold. He liked to keep active when he wasn’t writing. During the winter he skied and went snow-boarding. In the summer he surfed and water-skied. When he was forced indoors by the weather, he worked out. Obsessively.
‘Give me one good reason why you don’t date and we’ll leave it at that.’
She pursed her lips at him, her chin lifting. ‘One good reason,’ she repeated tartly. ‘No trouble. When a single mother goes out with a man these days, he expects more than a goodnight kiss at the door. He wants to come inside and stay the night. No way would I have my son wake up in the morning to some strange man at the breakfast table. If I’m a little lonely sometimes, then that’s the price I have to pay for giving my boy the example of good moral standards.’
Jack was impressed, but not entirely convinced. He feared she protested too much. There was something else here, something she wasn’t admitting to. But he could see she wasn’t about to confide in him at this early stage. If he could somehow persuade her to come out with him tomorrow night, he might eventually uncover some of the mystery behind this intriguing ice princess.
‘I promise I won’t expect more than a goodnight kiss at the door,’ he said.
Now she looked seriously rattled. And tempted. Oh, yes, she was tempted. He could see it in her eyes.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said again after a more lengthy hesitation. ‘My answer’s still no. Now I really must go. I’m running late.’
Jack didn’t try to stop her from leaving. He even reminded her about the money on the counter, which she almost forgot. But he took comfort from her obvious fluster. She’d definitely wanted to say yes to him. Or, if he was strictly honest with himself, she’d wanted to say yes to Nick Freeman.
It didn’t really matter. They were one and the same, as she would find out, when she went to the dinner with him tomorrow night.
Jack had her phone number somewhere. At least, he had the phone number for Clean-in-a-Day. He would ring later this evening, after her boy had gone to bed. By then, Jack would have all his arguments ready to get her to change her mind.
And he would not take no for an answer!

Chapter Five
‘MUM!’ Cory exclaimed from the passenger seat. ‘Where are you going?’
‘What?’
‘You drove straight past our street.’
Lisa sighed. It didn’t surprise her. Since she’d left Jack Cassidy’s place, it had been a struggle to keep her mind on what she was doing. She’d only just remembered to give Gail her money at the school.
Thank heavens Gail hadn’t had time to chat. No way did Lisa want to talk about her day. She still hadn’t come to terms with Jack Cassidy turning out to be Nick Freeman. Or with his asking her out to that awards dinner tomorrow night. Or her actually being tempted to say yes.
As Lisa negotiated the roundabout which would bring her back the way she’d come, she reiterated to herself that she’d done the right thing, saying no to his invitation.
She wasn’t a complete fool. She could read between the lines. Jack Cassidy—alias Nick Freeman—was a ladies’ man. Just like his character, Hal Hunter. Jack’s penthouse had ‘playboy pad’ written all over it, from the indoor pool and spa to the private gym, the home theatre and the simply huge master bedroom, which had every seductive mod con built in. A huge plasma screen dominated the wall opposite the bed. There were dimmer switches on the lights. And a corner spa in the en suite bathroom definitely built for two. Or even three.
Aside from that, she’d noted his off-the-cuff remark that he didn’t want to ever get married, even once. Yet he had to be in his mid-to-late thirties, past the age most men thought about settling down and having a family.
Clearly, his lifestyle of choice was that of swinging bachelor.
Mr Playboy would definitely not settle for a platonic peck at the door. He’d just been saying that to get her to go out with him. No doubt he thought she was an easy target, once he’d found out she was a widow.
Jack wasn’t the first man to ask her out. But he was the first she’d been tempted to say yes to.
Why was that? Lisa asked herself as she drove slowly down her street.
His being her favourite author had to be the main factor. But she suspected it was also because a glamorous night out in Sydney was an exciting prospect for a suburban single mother who hadn’t been anywhere glamorous in years. Up here on the coast, everything was very casual. You never got seriously dressed up for anything. Not even at Christmas.
Lisa loved getting dressed up. Or she had, when Greg had been alive.
Her wanting to say yes to Jack Cassidy’s invitation had nothing to do with her finding him physically attractive, she told herself firmly. She liked slim, elegant-looking men with nice manners and soft blue eyes, not big, macho devils with faces carved out of granite and the coldest grey eyes she’d ever seen.
Lisa supposed Jack’s surprise at her declaration that she didn’t date was understandable. But she thought she’d handled the situation quite well. Of course, she hadn’t been able to tell him the real reason she didn’t date. That would have been embarrassing in the extreme.
Still, the reason she’d given was also true. She hated the way some single mothers went from man to man, most of whom didn’t give a damn about their children. Yet they let these men into their children’s lives; let the poor little mites get attached.
How many single mothers and divorcees actually found a decent fellow to marry? Not many. Once the man got bored with the sex, he moved on. She’d seen it happen amongst her women friends too many times to count, leaving behind broken hearts and sad, mixed-up children.
‘Yes, I definitely did the right thing,’ she muttered under her breath.
Her house came into view, a two-storeyed blond brick building which Lisa was very proud of, but which she’d struggled to keep after Greg died. His insurance payout had not covered the mortgage. But she’d been determined not to lose her home. And she hadn’t, working very hard to make herself and her son financially secure. Even if she’d wanted to date, she hadn’t had the time back then.
Lisa turned into her driveway, Cory jumping out of the car before she’d switched off the engine, bolting along the front path and dropping his school bag on the porch.
‘Can I go and play up at Finn’s place?’ he called out as she climbed out of the car.
‘Not until you’ve changed out of your uniform,’ she told him sternly once she joined him on the porch. ‘And done your homework.’
‘But it’s the weekend,’ he protested. ‘I can do my homework tomorrow.’
‘No, you can’t. You’re going to your grandma’s tomorrow while I go shopping. We both know there won’t be any homework done there, don’t we?’ she added drily as she pulled the house keys from her bag.
‘I’m glad I’m going to Grandma’s,’ Cory said, a belligerent look on his face. ‘She lets me have fun. Not like you.’
‘Don’t you dare speak to me in that tone, young man,’ Lisa snapped, jamming the key into the deadlock and thinking how thankless a job being a mother was. ‘Now, get yourself inside and do as you’re told.’
Five hours later, she was still brooding over Cory’s cheekiness. And simmering with jealousy over his affection for his grandmother.
He didn’t seem to care that his grandmother was the messiest woman on the planet. Always had been. Not only was Jill Chapman allergic to cleaning, but she couldn’t cook to save her soul either. Lisa had grown up eating baked beans on toast for dinner most nights. Her mother’s only talent was as a potter, and even then she didn’t make much money at her craft.
‘Mum,’ Cory said in a wheedling tone, ‘can I stay up and watch a movie with you tonight?’
Lisa glanced up from where she was stacking the dishwasher. Cory was a few feet away in the family room, watching TV.
‘I don’t think so, Cory. You’ve had a long week at school and I don’t want you all tired and grumpy tomorrow. Off to bed now. It’s eight-thirty.’
‘Oh, Mum, please.’
‘Not this time,’ she said firmly.
‘You never let me do anything,’ he grumbled.
‘You can stay up extra late tomorrow night. We’ll go to the video shop after I finish my shopping and get you whatever movie you like. Provided it’s not too violent.’
His blue eyes lit up. ‘You promise?’
‘I promise.’
‘Cool!’
Lisa smiled at her son’s obvious delight. And his obeying her orders to go to bed without any further fuss. When she went upstairs five minutes later, his handsome little face was still beaming with happiness.
‘Goodnight and God bless,’ she murmured as she ruffled his soft blond hair, then bent to kiss him. ‘Love you.’
‘Love you, too, Mum,’ he said, making her heart squeeze tight.
Lisa supposed there were some rewards in being a mother. But it was hard, not having a partner to help with the parenting.
Not that Greg had been a firm father. He’d been way too soft with Cory. Way too soft with her as well. He’d let her run the show. And whilst Lisa liked being the boss of the household, there had been times when she’d wished Greg had taken the reins. In hindsight, he’d been a nice, but weak man. He should not have put up with her denying him sex…
When those old feelings of guilt threatened, Lisa pulled herself up sharply. The past was the past. No point in becoming maudlin over it.
As she always did when she started worrying about things, Lisa worked, mopping the kitchen floor and hanging out the washing which she’d put in the machine earlier. After that she went upstairs to the third bedroom, where she kept her iron and ironing board.
A lot of women hated ironing. But Lisa found it quite therapeutic. She ironed everything, enjoying seeing the neat piles of freshly pressed things set out on the spare bed. She was tackling Cory’s school shirts when the phone rang in her office, just across the hall. Knowing that the answering machine would pick up, she kept on ironing, keeping one ear open to see who it was. The office door was ajar and she could hear quite clearly. Her recorded voice came on first, asking the caller to leave a message after the beep.
When she heard Jack’s deep male voice come on to the line, she almost dropped the iron.
‘Jack Cassidy here, Lisa. Unfortunately, it seems I only have your business number. Hopefully, you’re home and check your messages on a regular basis. If so, please call me back some time tonight. You have my number. If I don’t hear from you by morning, I’ll have to ring Gail and find out your home or mobile number. I’m sure she’ll have it. If you don’t want me to do this—and I suspect you might not—then ring me. ASAP.’
After Jack had hung up, Lisa remained standing right where she was for several seconds, still gripping the iron mid-air. Her head had gone into a total whirl with his message, her heart racing like mad.
Eventually, she lowered the iron back onto its cradle, then sat down on the side of the bed whilst she assembled her scattered thoughts.
Somehow, she didn’t think Jack wanted her to call him to organise another cleaner to do his study. If he had, he would have simply said so.
He was going to ask her out again. She was sure of it!
Lisa could not understand why. A man like him could have his pick of women. Why pursue her?
‘Because you said no to him,’ she muttered out loud.
Lisa could think of no other reason.
Under any other circumstances, she would have ignored his call. Lisa didn’t like bully boys. But his threat to ring Gail in the morning was a worry. He was right. She wouldn’t like that. Gail would jump to all the wrong conclusions and start gossiping about her and Jack.
She had no alternative but to ring the infernal man. But she intended to put him in his place. And tell him in no uncertain terms that she didn’t appreciate being harassed, or threatened.
The thought of having a confrontation with him made her stomach churn. But it had to be done. And the sooner the better.
Steeling herself, Lisa stood up and marched across the hallway into her office. The piece of paper with Jack’s number on it was still in the top drawer of her desk, Lisa’s hand trembling slightly as she snatched up the phone.
He answered on the second ring, suggesting that he had been waiting for her call.
‘I’m so glad you rang,’ he said straight away in such a pleased voice that she felt some of her resentment drain away.
But her voice was still sharp.
‘What is it that you want, Jack?’

You, Jack was tempted to reply. But didn’t.
‘I wanted to give you the chance to change your mind about tomorrow night,’ came his diplomatic but still truthful reply.
He heard her sigh down the line. Unfortunately, it didn’t sound like a sigh of pleasure. Or surrender. ‘I won’t change my mind, Jack.’
‘Wait till you hear what I have to say.’
‘Very well.’
‘How long has it been since you’ve been taken out to dinner?’
Another exasperated sigh. ‘I told you. I don’t date.’
‘How long, Lisa?’
‘Over five years, I guess.’
‘And how long since you’ve had a night out in Sydney?’
‘About the same.’
Just as he had thought. She had to be one of the loneliest girls in the world. And ripe and ready for some male attention.
‘What if we don’t call tomorrow night a date? Would that help? What if you think of it as a favour to a business client?’
‘A favour?’
‘A big favour. You’ve no idea what it’s like going to these dos alone, Lisa. Which is what I’ll have to do if you don’t come with me.’
‘Why would you have to go alone? There must be scads of women of your acquaintance who’d be only too happy to go with you.’
‘Believe it or not, I’m not that social a guy. Or I haven’t been, since buying this place a couple months back. I’ve had my nose to the grindstone for weeks, finishing that damned book. Hardly been outside the door, except for the occasional surf, or shop. Trust me when I say there’s no one I could ask.’
‘I find it hard to believe you don’t have a little black book with loads of phone numbers in it.’
He did, actually. But he didn’t want to ring any of them. All of the women in that book paled in comparison to the very lovely, very intriguing and very challenging Mrs Chapman.
‘I think you’re mixing me up with Hal,’ Jack said. ‘He’s the one with the little black book.’
‘Oh.’
‘People do that a lot. Confuse me with Hal. Which is another reason why I want you to come with me tomorrow night. I get besieged by female fans at these awards dinners. He’s a very popular guy, old Hal. Now, if I have a beautiful blonde on my arm, I just might survive the night in one piece. They’ll take one look at you and know they don’t have a hope in Hades of getting my personal attention.’
‘I don’t know, Jack.’
A rush of adrenalin charged through his blood. She was wavering.
‘I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman all evening. You won’t have to fight me off at the door.’
No answer.
‘Think of the five-star food,’ he went on seductively. ‘And the five-star wine. Not to mention the five-star surroundings. This restaurant is top drawer, and right on the harbour, overlooking the bridge and the opera house.’
Her sigh this time sounded much closer to a sigh of surrender.
‘You do know how to tempt a girl.’
‘You’d be crazy not to come. I’ll pick you up and deliver you home to your door. Minus the grope-fest.’
She actually laughed.
‘It’ll be a truly fun evening. How long is it, Lisa, since you’ve had fun?’
‘Too long, my mother would say.’
‘Your mother sounds like a wise woman. You should listen to her.’
‘My mother wants me to get married again,’ Lisa said drily.
‘Mothers are like that.’
‘Does your mother get on your back to get married, Jack?’
‘My mother’s dead,’ came his rather curt reply.
‘Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I mean…you’re not that old.’
‘Both my parents were killed in a car accident when I was fifteen.’
‘Oh, how tragic.’
‘It was. The truck driver who killed them was unlicenced, driving an unsafe, unregistered vehicle. He got a miserable twelve months for murder.’
‘Jack, that’s appalling! You wonder what these judges are thinking of, giving light sentences like that.’
‘Yeah, but it doesn’t really hit home till it happens to you. Injustice is just a word till you experience it for yourself.’
‘I suppose so,’ Lisa murmured, thinking how dreadful to lose both one’s parents like that. Her parents had been divorced, but it had been an amicable enough parting. Her perfectionist father hadn’t been able to stand her mother’s sloppy ways, and had bolted as soon as he found someone more to his liking.
He’d never come back.
Lisa might have resented his defection more if she’d been able to remember him. Or if she hadn’t understood full well why he’d left. She’d left home, too, as soon as she could.
‘I think we’re getting too serious here,’ Jack said. ‘Back to tomorrow night. I presume you don’t want to tell your mother you’re going out with me.’
‘If she found out I was going out anywhere with any man, she’d nag me to death. If she finds out I’m going to a fancy awards dinner with the famous Nick Freeman, I’d never hear the end of it.’
‘She’s a fan of Nick Freeman’s?’
‘Unfortunately. I introduced you to her a couple of months back.’
‘Then don’t tell her. It’s not as though this dinner is going to be on TV, or anything like that. The only media coverage it’ll get is in the Australian Writers Monthly. And who reads that, except the literati? I certainly don’t.’
‘You’re very persuasive.’
‘Is that a yes?’
‘Yes. But…’
‘No buts, Lisa. You’re coming and that’s that.’
‘I was just going to say that I’ll have to tell my mother I’m going somewhere with someone. She’s the one who’ll be minding Cory. I won’t leave him with anyone else.’
‘You’re a woman. You’ll think of something.’
‘I don’t have your imagination.’
Jack didn’t think he had that great an imagination. Lots of things which happened in his books were things which had really happened. But he wasn’t about to tell her that.
‘Always stick as close to the truth as possible when you’re being sneaky,’ Jack suggested, thinking to himself that he had been doing just that. ‘Why not say that a girlfriend of yours has been given two free tickets to the awards dinner and wants you to go with her? That way you can talk freely about your night out and not have to make anything up.’
‘That’s brilliant, Jack!’
‘I am brilliant.’
‘And so modest.’
‘That, too.’
‘But are you a man of your word?’
‘Do you doubt it?’
‘Hal’s not always a man of his word.’
‘I’m not Hal.’
‘I’m not so sure. Your books are told in the first person.’
‘That’s just a tool to create immediate empathy with the reader. And a more intense emotional involvement with Hal’s character.’
‘You succeeded very well.’
‘Thanks. Now, let’s get off Hal for a moment. At the risk of offending you again, are you set, clothes-wise, for tomorrow night? It’s black tie.’
‘Do I have to wear a long evening dress?’
‘Not necessarily. A cocktail or party dress will do fine.’
‘I’ll buy something tomorrow. I was going Christmas shopping, anyway.’
‘Christmas shopping! But it’s only October.’
‘I don’t like to leave present-shopping till the last minute,’ came her prim reply. ‘The pre-summer sales are on at Tuggerah tomorrow.’
‘Where the hell is Tuggerah?’
‘You don’t know the coast too well, do you?’
‘I know the Erina shopping centre. Why don’t you go there? I could meet you and we could have coffee. Or lunch?’
‘I don’t think so, Jack. Don’t forget, I’m only going with you tomorrow night as a favour. It is not a real date. It’s a one-off. There won’t be any encores. Or prequels. Take it or leave it, Jack.’
‘I’ll take it,’ he said, and smiled to himself.
You can pretend to yourself all you like, sweetheart. But tomorrow night is not going to be any one-off. You like me. I can tell. Tomorrow night is just the beginning.
‘I’ll pick you up at six,’ he added. ‘That will give us plenty of time to get down to Sydney. Now, where do you live? Give me your address and some directions so that I don’t get lost. And your mobile number, in case I need to contact you tomorrow and you’re not home.’
‘Why would you need to contact me?’
‘The world’s an unpredictable place, Lisa. I like to be prepared.’
‘That’s what Hal always says.’
‘Does he? Well, I suppose I do have some things in common with my main man.’

Like his womanising ways, Lisa thought, suddenly concerned over her decision to go out with Jack.
What on earth had she been thinking when she let him change her mind?
She’d rung him up to put him in his place and ended up agreeing to be his pretend girlfriend for the night, letting him persuade her with the promise of adult company, great food and the fantasy of actually having some fun.
But what fun would it be if she was on tenterhooks all night, worried about fighting him off at the front door?
‘You’re not having second thoughts, are you?’
Lisa rolled her eyes. What was he, a mind-reader?
‘Not at all,’ she replied crisply. If he did try something when he brought her home, she’d be ready for him. He wouldn’t get so much as a toe in her front door.
‘How about your address and phone number, then? I have pen and paper at the ready.’
She gave him both, plus good directions. It was perfectly clear, however, that he hadn’t been far afield from Terrigal, since he’d never heard of Tumbi Umbi Road.
‘There’s a Central Coast map in the local phone directory,’ she said. ‘Study it up.’
‘I’ll do that. And thanks, Lisa. I really appreciate your coming with me. You’re a good sport.’
A good sport. Was that what playboys called foolish females these days?
‘Bye for now,’ he said breezily. ‘See you tomorrow night.’
Tomorrow night…
Just the thought made her feel sick.
Oh, Lisa, Lisa, what have you done?

Chapter Six
LISA’S chest tightened as it always did when she pulled into the driveway of her mother’s place. Not so much these days because the ramshackle farmhouse would be a mess. But because her mother always seemed to say something to get her hackles up.
Lisa could hear implied criticism in even the most innocent of her mother’s comments. As soon as she pulled up on the weed-filled patch of lawn which masqueraded as a front garden, Cory was out of the car like a shot, running up onto the veranda and giving his emerging grandma a big hug before dashing off to play on the tyre which swung from a nearby tree.
‘Thanks for looking after Cory for me, Mum,’ Lisa called out through the driver’s window, trying not to really look at her mother. But it was impossible. Her hair was as red as the red in the multicoloured kaftan she was wearing. ‘Not sure what time I’ll be back. Probably not till after lunch.’
Lisa had decided on the way here not to tell her mother about going out tonight till she returned from shopping. She’d say she’d run into this mythical girl-friend at Tuggerah and been asked out when another girlfriend couldn’t go with her.
‘What’s the hurry?’ Jill Chapman called back as she walked down the rickety front steps. ‘Can’t you come in for a cup of coffee?’
‘I’ll do that when I come back. I don’t want to be late. You know what the parking’s like when the sales are on.’
‘You look very nice today,’ her mother said, drawing closer to the driver’s window. ‘There again, you always look nice. I wouldn’t have thought you needed any new clothes.’
Lisa struggled to find a smile. ‘Actually, I’m looking for Christmas presents today. But I think it’s always good to buy a few new things at the start of each season,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘Otherwise, your wardrobe ends up getting very dated.’
‘Like mine, you mean,’ her mother said with a hearty laugh.
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You didn’t have to. I know I look like an escapee from the sixties most of the time. But that’s what I am.’
Who would have guessed? Lisa thought wearily.
‘I have to go, Mum,’ she said. ‘Keep an eye on Cory, would you? Don’t let him wander off.’ Her mother lived on a small acreage in the Yarramalong Valley, where there was a lot of bush. And snakes.
‘He’ll be fine.’
Lisa sighed under her breath as she waved goodbye and drove off. That was what her mother always said. And what she thought. Everything and everyone was always fine. Except her daughter, of course. Her daughter was a fussy, frigid fool who had no idea how to relax, or really enjoy herself.
Maybe she was right, Lisa conceded unexpectedly for the first time in her life. Here she was, going out to a slap-up dinner in Sydney tonight with her favourite author and was she happy? No! She was already worrying herself sick over how to act and what might or might not happen when Jack brought her home.
At least her mother was always happy. She’d been happy even after her husband left her.
I should be happy, Lisa lectured herself as she drove towards Tuggerah. I have a lovely home. A wonderful son. A flourishing business. And a good, if irritating, mother.
I also shouldn’t be worrying about tonight. I am an adult woman, in control over what happens to me and what does not. If Jack makes a pass, I can handle it. There’s no reason why I can’t relax and enjoy myself.
The trouble was she always had difficulty relaxing. She seemed condemned to feel slightly uptight about everything, as if nothing was ever quite right, or good enough, or clean enough.
Lisa pulled a face. She was sick of this. Sick of herself.
Thank goodness it wasn’t far from her mother’s house to the shopping centre, the sight of Tuggerah ahead soothing her anxiety somewhat. Clothes shopping was one thing she did truly enjoy. She had a good sense of fashion and knew what suited her. When she’d attended the company Christmas parties with Greg he’d always been very proud of her.
Hopefully, Jack would feel just as proud when he came to pick her up tonight.

‘You don’t mind, Mum?’ Lisa said, glancing up from where she was sitting at her mother’s messy kitchen table, sipping coffee. The clock on the wall showed ten to one. Finding that special dress had taken Lisa longer than she’d anticipated.
‘Mind? Why should I mind? I love having Cory over.’
‘Where is he, by the way?’
‘Down at the creek, looking for tadpoles.’
‘He’s OK by himself down there?’
‘He can swim, can’t he? Of course he’s all right. You fuss over him too much, Lisa. Boys needs some space. And some freedom.’
‘Maybe. But it’s a dangerous world out there, Mum.’
‘The world is whatever you believe it to be. I believe it to be good. And I believe people to be good. Until it’s proven otherwise.’
Lisa sighed. Her mother was naïve, in her opinion. And out of touch. At the same time, she could see that Cory grew whenever he spent time with her. Not physically. But in maturity and experience. Her mother did allow him to do things she never would.
‘It’s good that you’re going out,’ her mother went on. ‘Even if it is just with a girlfriend. So you’re off to Sydney, are you? To a posh dinner in a posh restaurant. That’s great. But watch yourself.’
Lisa blinked. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Sydney on a Saturday night can be a wild place. Don’t go walking around the streets by yourself.’
‘We’re going to a restaurant, Mum. It’s a literary-awards dinner with speeches and things. We won’t be walking around the streets.’
‘What are you going to wear?’
Lisa had decided not to show her mother the dress she’d bought. She wasn’t in the mood for being criticised.
‘I have plenty of party dresses in my wardrobe.’
‘You know, you might see our favourite author there.’
‘And who would that be?’ Lisa said, trying to keep a straight face.
‘Nick Freeman, of course. His books always win awards. It says so on the inside flaps. You’ll have to tell me what he looks like. There’s never a picture on the back cover. And not much of a biography. I think he writes under an assumed name.’
‘He might be a woman,’ came Lisa’s oddly mischievous comment.
‘Oh, no,’ her mother said with a rather knowing smile. ‘The creator of Hal is no woman. My guess is he’s ex-military. He knows much too much about weapons not to have personal experience.’
‘Maybe he just does a lot of research,’ Lisa said, whilst thinking to herself that her mother was probably right.
‘No. It’s all too real. I sure hope he’s going to write some more Hal Hunter books. I’m addicted to them already. Yet strangely enough, I think I like the first one the best. The Scales of Justice. That’s where you really get to know Hal. You understand why he is the way he is after the way his parents get killed.’
Lisa frowned, only then making the connection between Jack’s parents being tragically killed and the way Hal’s parents were killed. Not in a car accident. In a terrorist bombing.
Was that why Jack had become a loner, like Hal? Why he didn’t want to marry and have a family of his own?
The answers to those questions possibly lay in that first book.
‘You know, Mum, I think I’d like to read that one again. You haven’t lent it to any of your friends, have you?’
‘Nope. It’s in my bedroom, under the bed. I’ll go get it for you.’
Her mother had just left when the back screen door was yanked open and Cory charged into the kitchen, holding an old coffee jar full of muddy water.
The nicely washed and ironed clothes which she’d put on him that morning were also muddy. So was his face. It always pained Lisa to see her good-looking boy looking like a ruffian. But she held her tongue for once.
‘Hi there, Mum! Where’s Grandma?’
‘Right here, sweetie,’ Lisa’s mother replied as she bustled back into the kitchen, handing Lisa the book before going straight over to Cory. ‘Show me what you’ve got. Heavens! You’ve done well. We’ll put them in the pond later. Hopefully, some of them might turn into frogs. By the way, you’re staying the night,’ she continued before Lisa could tell Cory herself. ‘Your mum’s going out to some fancy dinner in Sydney tonight.’
‘Wow! Cool.’
Lisa wasn’t sure if he meant it was cool she was going to Sydney, or cool that he was staying the night.
‘Don’t let him stay up too late,’ she said.
Grandmother and grandson exchanged a conspiratorial glance. They were as thick as thieves, those two.
‘It’s Saturday night,’ her mother said. ‘Cory doesn’t have to go to school tomorrow. He can sleep in in the morning. You’re not going to be here to pick him up till lunch-time, I’ll bet. It’ll be you having the late night.’
Lisa didn’t plan on being that late. But she didn’t want to argue the point, for fear of making a slip-up with her story.
‘Oh, all right,’ she agreed. ‘But not too late,’ Lisa added as she picked up Jack’s book and got to her feet. ‘Don’t go taking advantage of your grandmother, young man. And don’t eat too much ice cream. You know what it does to your stomach.’ Cory was lactose intolerant.
Cory’s blue eyes went blank, exactly like his father’s had when she used to nag him over something.
‘Go give your mother a hug,’ his grandmother said, giving Cory a nudge in the ribs.
‘Be a good boy,’ Lisa whispered as she held him to her for a little longer than she usually did.
His weary-sounding sigh made her feel guilty.
‘Love you,’ she added.
‘Love you too, Mum,’ Cory returned. But there wasn’t a great deal of warmth in his words.
Suddenly, Lisa wanted to cry. And to keep holding him. Close.
But she knew he would hate that.
‘See you tomorrow,’ she choked out, struggling to keep back the tears as she let him go and hurried towards the door.
Her mother followed her out whilst Cory dashed off towards the pond with his jar of tadpoles.
‘You all right, love?’ her mother said.
Lisa tossed Jack’s book onto the passenger seat as she climbed in behind the wheel. ‘Yes, of course. Why shouldn’t I be?’
‘You seem a little more uptight than usual.’
‘I’m not uptight at all,’ Lisa suddenly snapped before banging the door shut and glaring at her mother through the open window. ‘Why do you always criticise me, Mum? I’ve been a good daughter, haven’t I? And I’m a good mother to Cory. I support myself and always try to do the right thing. So get off my back, will you?’
Regret at her sharp words consumed Lisa when her mother reeled back on her heels, shock in her eyes.
‘I…I didn’t realise,’ her mother said, obviously shaken by Lisa having a go at her. ‘I only ever want the best for you, love. But I can see I might have been a bit critical on occasions. Sorry. I’ll try to keep my big mouth shut in future.’
Lisa was torn between feeling vindicated at having stood up for herself, and guilty over hurting her mother’s feelings.
‘I’m sorry, too, Mum,’ she said. ‘I know I’m touchy. I…I haven’t been sleeping very well lately.’
‘Then it will do you good to get out,’ her mother said, all smiles again. Nothing ever got Jill Chapman down for long. ‘Who knows? You might meet a man.’
‘Mum…’Lisa warned.
‘What’s wrong with a mother wanting her beautiful daughter to meet a man?’
‘You know I don’t want to get married again.’
‘So? I don’t, either. But that’s never stopped me having a boyfriend.’
‘Or two,’ Lisa muttered under her breath as she started the engine. ‘Bye, Mum,’ she said as she let go of the handbrake and moved off. ‘See you in the morning.’
‘No need to rush,’ her mother shouted after her. ‘Sleep in, if you want to.’
Lisa found herself shaking her head as she drove off. In a weird way, she wished she’d told her mother the total truth about tonight. She would have liked to see the look on her face.
But the consequences were not worth that small moment of satisfaction. Her mother would have asked her all sorts of awkward questions, and jumped to all the wrong conclusions.
No, it was much better this way.
Once out onto the road, Lisa glanced across at the copy of The Scales of Justice lying on the passenger seat. She could not wait to get home and read it. Not the whole book, unfortunately. She wouldn’t have time for that. Not if she was to be perfectly groomed when Jack picked her up at six.
But she could surely manage a few chapters whilst she was soaking in the bath.
Lisa was anxious to find out just how much Hal was like Jack. He’d said on the phone last night how he liked to be prepared. Well, Lisa was going to be prepared too.
For him.

Chapter Seven
AS JACK drove up Tumbi Umbi Road, he started thinking it had been a long time since he’d looked forward to a date as much as he was looking forward to tonight.
Though tonight was not quite like any date he’d ever been on before. He had no expectation of ending up in bed with Lisa Chapman. In fact, he would put his money on that not happening.
His goal this evening was simply to get her to go out with him again. To make her see that she could have a social life without endangering her son’s moral standards. That she didn’t have to live like a nun, just because her husband had passed away and she didn’t want to marry again.
Jack still had no idea whether Lisa had loved the man, or loathed him. But he aimed to find that out tonight as well.
A tricky mission, however, he appreciated. Because Lisa was not the sort of woman who confided easily. She kept her own counsel. Look how she hadn’t told him she owned Clean-in-a-Day. That had been very secretive of her.
Still, a few glasses of wine might loosen her tongue.
There was always a lot of toasting at these award dinners. Surely she wouldn’t say no to a glass or two of champagne.
The large roundabout came up that Lisa had told him about, then the street on the left she’d said to take. Shortly he’d be there, at her house.
A quick glance at his Rolex showed Jack it was one minute to six. Punctuality was one habit from the army which he’d never shaken. As was wearing his hair cut very short.
He did manage to go a few days without shaving occasionally. But that was as sloppy as he could manage. He’d been sporting quite a bit of stubble yesterday, however, something which he’d thought afterwards might not have found favour with the very particular Mrs Chapman.
But his chin was as smooth as silk tonight. So was his very expensive tuxedo, which he’d had made to measure a couple of years back.
Jack hoped his more sophisticated look would spark some sexual interest this evening. Most women liked men in dinner suits.
Unfortunately, Lisa was not most women. She was different. Very different.
Challenging, that was what she was.
Jack smiled as he turned down her street. There was
nothing that excited him more than a challenge.

At five to six, Lisa had been close to panic. Nothing had gone as she’d planned this afternoon. Everything had taken simply ages!
Longest had been the applying of some false tan, necessary because the dress she’d bought was a one-shouldered style which showed a white strap mark. A tedious task in itself. But first, she’d had to bathe and shave her legs and exfoliate properly.
Absolutely no time for lying back and reading.
By the time all that was done to her satisfaction, it was after three. After a hurried snack, she tackled her hair, a time-consuming job as well. Again, probably because of nerves, the style she’d chosen to suit her very feminine dress just didn’t work out. In the end she shampooed her hair a second time and started from scratch again, this time putting it up into a French pleat, which she could have done in her sleep. But she was disappointed and frustrated that she couldn’t manage the softer, curlier look she’d wanted.
By this stage it was ten past five, leaving her less than an hour to do her nails and make-up and get dressed. The nails she managed without smudging, but it took twenty minutes. Transforming her naturally pretty face into something much more glamorous and sophisticated took another fifteen.
Foundation first, then blusher, then powder, then eye-shadow; smoky grey colours which deepened her corn-flower-blue eyes. Her hand had started shaking as she applied her eye-liner, Lisa muttering some uncharacteristic swearwords when she poked herself in the eye.
Her mouth came last, with Lisa waffling over which lipstick to use. And what colour. Her full lips didn’t really need to be made to look bigger. Lisa hated that bee-stung look. In the end, she just rubbed in some lipgloss with her fingertips.
Deciding what earrings to wear wasted another five minutes, her more severe hair-do crying out for something glamorous, not the simple pearl drops she’d been planning on wearing.
Unfortunately, glamorous hadn’t been on Lisa’s shopping list for some years. In desperation she dragged out some long, dangling gold ones Greg had bought for her one Christmas, also changing her cream high heels for open-toed gold sandals which hadn’t seen the light of day for yonks either.
Just as well they weren’t a style which dated.
By then it was ten to six. Time to get into her dress.
Stripping off her bathrobe, Lisa carefully slipped the dress over her head, sliding her left arm through the one armhole whilst protecting her hair with her free hand. The dress slithered down her body, the shoulder strap halting its progress. Lisa did up the cleverly hidden sidezip, slipped her feet into her sandals then walked over to inspect the final product in the full-length mirror which hung on the back of her bedroom door.
This was where the panic set in. Instead of looking ultra-sophisticated and coolly glamorous, she looked…well…she looked sexy!
Lisa could not believe it. The dress in itself wasn’t sexy. Just a chiffon sheath which skimmed her slender figure, the material graduating from cream at the top to a coffee colour down at the handkerchief hemline.
Unfortunately, the one-shouldered style meant she either had to wear a strapless bra or no bra. Given that the dress was fully lined and Lisa didn’t have large breasts, she’d decided on the no-bra option. She’d always hated strapless bras, which had a tendency to slip.
She hadn’t realised till this moment that her nipples would be so obvious. Or that she might look as if she had not a stitch on underneath.
Of course, she was wearing panties. But they were the sleek, stretchy kind which didn’t show a line underneath your clothes.
Lisa was about to rummage through her underwear drawer in search of a strapless bra when she heard the sound of a car coming down the street.
Too late, she realised when it throttled down outside her house.
Grabbing her cream clutch bag, she dashed over to her bedroom window, which overlooked the street below. The sight of a sleek black sports car parked next to her post-box made her groan. The neighbours were going to have a field-day if they saw her getting into that!
She was about to run downstairs and make a quick exit when the driver’s door opened and Jack climbed out.
At least, Lisa presumed it was Jack. The male who’d emerged and was currently striding up to her front door was remotely similar to the man she’d met the previous day. He did have the same nicely shaped head. And the same short, dark hair.
But that was where the similarity ended.
‘Oh, my,’ Lisa said in a soft, uncharacteristically breathy voice.
By the time he disappeared under the front porch, Lisa was shaking her head. Who would have believed that a change of clothes—and a shave—could make that much of a difference? Jack now looked just like his car. Sleek and powerful and sexy.
Sexy?
Lisa was taken aback. Since when did she start thinking any man was sexy?
Whirling away from the window, she marched off in the direction of downstairs, reminding herself the whole way down that being superficially attracted to a man was just that. Superficial.
She’d been attracted to Greg, who’d been a very handsome man. But she still hadn’t liked sex with him.
Nothing has changed, she warned herself, so don’t start hoping that it has.
The front doorbell rang on the way downstairs, Lisa’s wayward thoughts back in check by the time she reached for the door knob. There were still some butterflies in her stomach over the evening ahead, but she had every confidence she could hide those. She’d been hiding her anxious nature for years.

Jack appreciated, the instant she opened the door, why he hadn’t been able to get Lisa out of his mind all day.
He’d dated a lot of blondes in his time, as Helene had pointed out. But none had ever exuded what this one did.
She reminded Jack of an Alfred Hitchcock heroine. Lovely to look at. Sexy, in an understated way. But so icily self-contained that you wanted to reach out and pull her into your arms. Wanted to break her down. Wanted to make her lose her much prided self-control.
Her smile was polite. But her eyes remained annoyingly unreadable as they swept over him. ‘My, don’t you look simply splendid? Like James Bond on his way to a casino.’
It was a type of compliment, he supposed.
‘And you look like Grace Kelly, in To Catch a Thief,’ he countered.
Only with less underwear, he suddenly noticed.
Actually, if Jack hadn’t known better, he might have thought she was totally naked underneath her dress. She certainly wasn’t wearing a bra.
What he wouldn’t give to reach out right now and slip that thin strap off her shoulder. In his mind’s eye the dress was already slithering down her delicious body onto the doorstep, leaving her standing there wearing not much more but those sexy gold shoes.
When his own body began to respond to his mental fantasy, Jack forced himself to get a grip, clearing his throat and adopting what he hoped was a gentlemanly expression before reefing his eyes back up to her extremely beautiful face.
Her sudden blush startled him.
Because ice princesses didn’t blush. They accepted compliments with cool little smiles. Their cheeks didn’t go a bright red. Their composure was rarely rattled.
But Lisa was definitely rattled at that moment.
How interesting.
‘Thank you,’ she returned, confusion in her eyes, as though she was well aware she was not acting like her normal self.
Even more interesting.
‘Are you ready?’ he asked, quite pleased at how the evening was going so far. Who knew? He might not have to be super-patient after all. If he wasn’t mistaken, his little ice princess was already on the thaw.

Ready?
No, Lisa suddenly wanted to scream at him. No, I’m not ready. Not ready at all! I need a few minutes to find myself again. To find control. And composure. And to work out what happened when you looked me up and down just now.
Lisa was no stranger to men staring at her. She was used to hot, desire-filled glances. Even lecherous ogling.
Jack’s gaze, however, had not been at all lecherous. His eyes had betrayed nothing but a natural interest in her appearance. In truth, Lisa would have been piqued if he hadn’t complimented her.
What had upset her was her own reaction when he’d looked her up and down. Her skin had burned under the silky lining of her dress, her nipples tightening in a most disgraceful fashion.
She’d felt naked before him. Naked, and excited.
Yes, excited. That was what she’d felt.
No wonder she’d blushed.
‘Have you got your house keys with you?’ Jack prodded when she made no sign of moving.
‘What? Oh. Yes. Yes, I think so.’ She opened the gold clasp on her bag and made a pretext of inspecting its contents. ‘Yes. They’re here.’
‘Lock up, then, and let’s get going. I don’t like being late.’
Lisa used the few seconds it took to lock up to calm herself. But any headway she’d made was obliterated when Jack took her arm and started steering her down the front path towards his car.
Such a simple gesture. A gentlemanly gesture, really. But the moment his large palm cupped around her elbow, electric currents went charging up and down her arm, making Lisa stiffen all over.
She smothered a sigh of relief when he let her arm go to open the passenger door of his car, grateful when he allowed her to settle herself into the seat, unaided. But she could feel his eyes on her bare legs as she swung them inside, once again making her hotly aware of her semi-naked body underneath her clothes.
She clutched her bag in her lap as he swung the door shut after her, keeping her eyes steadfastly ahead, resisting the temptation to glance up at him, for fear of what he might see in her face. But when he came into view through the front windscreen, striding round the low front of his car, Lisa surrendered to the temptation to gaze openly at him, her thoughts reflecting her ongoing shock at how he was affecting her tonight.
Just before he opened the door and climbed in behind the wheel Lisa wrenched her eyes away, hopeful he hadn’t noticed her staring at him.
But what if he had?
Embarrassment curled her stomach. Please don’t let him have noticed. Please let me get through this evening without making a fool of myself.
Because that was what Lisa was suddenly feeling like. A fool. Not a frigid fool any longer. Just a fool.

Chapter Eight
JACK frowned as he gunned the engine. Talk about one step forward and three steps backwards.
For a split-second, when she’d blushed, he’d thought she was warming to him.
But just when Jack had started counting his chickens, the hatching had ground to a halt. She’d acted like a marble statue when he’d taken her arm. And now she was staring out of the passenger window and clutching that bag in her lap as if she was scared stiff he was about to pounce.
Clearly, he hadn’t hidden his desire for her as well as he thought he had.
Time to calm her fears with some distracting conversation, or this evening was going to be a total disaster.
‘Very nice place you’ve got there, Lisa,’ he said as he executed a U-turn and accelerated away. ‘It’s a credit to you.’
Her head turned and there was no mistaking the relief in her eyes. Obviously, she didn’t mind his complimenting her house.
‘I do like keeping it nice,’ she said. ‘But my mother says I’m too house-proud.’
‘Nothing wrong with being house-proud. Have you always lived here?’
‘Ever since my marriage. Though it looked like I’d lose the house for a while after Greg died. His insurance payout didn’t cover the mortgage.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘I couldn’t go out to work. I had a child and I hadn’t booked him into childcare. So I took in ironing and cleaned houses whilst people were at work. Anywhere where I was allowed to take Cory with me. I worked seven days a week. By the time I started my business, I was close to paying off the mortgage. I’m now free and clear of debt.’
‘Wow. That’s impressive, Lisa.’
She shrugged those slender shoulders of hers. ‘I did what I had to do. But what about you? Where did you live before you bought up here?’
‘In Sydney’s eastern suburbs. I still have an apartment in Double Bay. But I was finding it hard to write there. I bought the place in Terrigal as a kind of writer’s retreat.’
‘You must be very wealthy.’
‘I’ve been lucky.’
‘I don’t believe that. People make their own luck. I’ll bet writing is hard work.’
‘It’s becoming more so with time. When I first left the army, the words seemed to just flow.’
‘Oh, so you were in the army. My mother said you must have been. She said you knew too much about weapons not to have handled them yourself. Once I thought about it, I agreed with her.’
‘I was in the army for twelve years. Joined when I was eighteen. Left when I was thirty. I’d had enough.’
‘How long ago was that?’
‘Six years. Do I look thirty-six?’ he asked, slanting her a quick smile. ‘Or older?’
She stared back at him for a few seconds. ‘Thirty-six looks about right,’ she said at last. ‘Though I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d been older. You do have years of experience in your eyes.’
Jack nodded. ‘Some days I feel a hundred. I saw lots of things I’d rather not have seen in the army, I can tell you.’
‘Hal is you, Jack, isn’t he?’ she suddenly said, her eyes still on him.
‘He’s only part me. I’m not a one-man instrument of justice and vengeance. I certainly don’t go round killing people.’
‘But you’d like to.’
Jack laughed. ‘How perceptive of you.’
‘Hal’s rather ruthless.’
‘He is,’ Jack agreed as he negotiated the first of a series of roundabouts which would lead them past the Tuggerah shopping centre where she’d been this morning, then onto the motorway to Sydney.
‘Do you think you’ll win the award tonight?’ Lisa asked him once they were on the motorway.
‘Probably.’
‘You don’t sound like you really care.’
‘The novelty of winning awards wears off pretty quickly.’
‘That sounded cynical.’
‘I am cynical. But awards sometimes translate into more money. And money I like. So does my agent.’
‘Do you have to have an agent to become successful as a writer?’
‘You do if you want to make it overseas. And especially if you want your books to be made into movies.’
‘Your books are going to be made into movies?’
No doubt, that surprised her.
‘They already have been. The first one premières in Los Angeles in April next year. I’ve been invited to attend as a special guest.’
‘Wow! That’s fabulous, Jack. Who’s playing the part of Hal?’
‘An unknown actor. The studio didn’t want a big name. They wanted the person who played the part to really become Hal in people’s minds. His name is Chad Furness. I hear he’s very good. And very handsome.’
‘Well, Hal’s very handsome, isn’t he? Oh, you must be so proud.’
Proud.
Jack thought about that word for a long moment.
Proud.
No. That wasn’t what he felt.
Satisfied, perhaps. But not proud.
‘It’s certainly made me a very rich man,’ came his considered reply. ‘I bought this car and my penthouse at Terrigal with some of the money Hollywood paid me. Plus I hired myself a cleaner from the top cleaning establishment on the coast,’ he added with a wry grin.
She laughed, the sound reassuring Jack. He would hate to think she felt tense in his company. And she had been, earlier on.
Suddenly, the thought of never seeing her again after this evening was unbearable.
‘I suppose I can’t talk you into cleaning my study this Monday, could I?’ he said, doing his best to sound very casual. ‘Gail’s ankle wouldn’t have recovered yet and my study’s crying out for a thorough cleaning.’
When she didn’t answer, he glanced over at her.
‘At the risk of being accused of trying to buy you, I’ll pay you double,’ he said. And a million dollars if you’ll sleep with me, came the added Hal-like thought.
Her head turned, her eyes betraying the most intriguing dilemma. She wanted to do as he asked. He could see it. But she was hesitant. Which meant what? She did like him, but was afraid of him for some reason? Clearly, she was still worried that he was going to pounce, sexually.
‘I…I can’t, Jack. I have other work to do on Monday.’
‘Tuesday, then.’ He had no intention of letting her off the hook that easily.
‘I’ll send someone else.’
‘No,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t want anyone else. I want you.’
Jack could have bitten his tongue out. He’d done it now. Showed his hand. He could feel her eyes on him. Feel her tension welling up again.
‘You’re the best cleaner I’ve ever had,’ he went on, hoping it wasn’t too late to salvage the situation. ‘You leave Gail for dead. It’s difficult to go back to second rate when you’ve experienced perfection.’
‘You’re being persuasive again,’ she said.
‘Is it my fault if you’re perfect?’
‘Don’t flatter me, Jack.’
‘The truth is not flattery.’
‘You have a way with words.’
‘You have a way with floors.’
Her laugh delighted him. And made him want to roar in relief.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll clean your study. Once. On Tuesday. But after that, you’re back to Gail.’
‘Oh, cruel woman.’
‘Stop it, Jack,’ she said, but smilingly.
After that she seemed much more relaxed, and they chatted away about all sorts of things. Music. Movies. Their families. Or lack of them. Lisa’s parents were divorced, and, like himself, she had no siblings. All their grandparents had passed away, too.
In a way, they were both loners. Both self-sufficient.
Occasionally, she brought the topic of conversation back to his writing. But Jack managed to steer her away from further discussion of his books, or his so-called hero.
Jack didn’t want to think about Hal too much tonight. Hal could sometimes be bad for him. He appealed to his dark side. It was difficult enough ignoring the sexual thoughts and feelings Lisa could so easily evoke without Hal getting into his head, tempting him with truly wicked ideas.
Would two million tempt her to sleep with him? Five? Ten?
Jack clenched his jaw-line, then concentrated on keeping their casual conversation going, forcing himself not to fall broodingly silent as he could do on occasion when his thoughts turned dark. Which they were on the verge of doing every time he glanced over at Lisa.
Damn, but he wanted her!
His body was rock-hard with desire, his resolve to have her threatening to turn more ruthless with each passing minute.
‘Not far to go now,’ he said with some relief as they approached the harbour bridge. Best get out of this confining car and into somewhere public.
The traffic was a bit heavy across the bridge, but moving along steadily. Jack knew where he was going, taking the correct lanes and exit to whiz them down to the harbourside restaurant where the awards dinner was being held. Thankfully the restaurant had a private car park, reserved for patrons, an attendant swiftly directing them to a spot just metres from the entrance.
‘I’d better warn you about Helene before you meet her,’ he said as he extracted his car keys.
‘Helene? Who’s Helene?’ Lisa asked.
‘My agent. She’s a darling woman underneath her tough-bird exterior. But she does have a big mouth. Puts her foot into it occasionally. She’s also going through a gypsy-cum-gothic stage in her wardrobe, which can be a bit startling. If she’d dressed me tonight I’d have been wearing black leather trousers, with a full-sleeved white silk shirt, topped off with a scarlet cummerbund. I’d have looked like a camp pirate from the Caribbean.’
Lisa laughed, her lovely blue eyes sparkling with amusement. ‘If there’s one thing you could never look, Jack, it’s camp. But I’m glad this Helene didn’t dress you tonight. What you’re wearing is superb. That suit must have cost a small fortune.’
‘It did. And I would think that little number you have on didn’t come cheap. I wish you’d let me pay for it, Lisa. You shouldn’t be out of pocket because you did me the favour of being my pretend girlfriend for the night.’

Chapter Nine
LISA found herself piqued by that word, pretend.
Yet she should have been reassured.
So why wasn’t she?
Female vanity, she supposed. Or was it something else, that faint hope she’d been harbouring that at last she was becoming a normal woman, sexually?
During the drive down, that startling incident with her nipples had stayed at the back of her mind, as had the heat which Jack had generated in her when he’d taken her arm. Despite finally relaxing in his company and enjoying their conversation very much, she’d begun secretly hoping that he would make a pass when he brought her home, just to see how she would react.
The word ‘pretend’ indicated that Jack wasn’t about to try anything. His insistence that she come and clean his study had not been a sign of personal interest. He just wanted his study cleaned. He didn’t fancy her one bit.
Lisa wished now she’d accepted his offer to pay her double.
Paying for her dress, however, was still out of the question.
‘Don’t start that again, Jack,’ she said with a cool glance his way.
The trouble with practised womanisers, she decided, was that women fell easily for their superficial charms.
When Jack came round to open the passenger door and reach his hand down towards her, Lisa smothered a groan of dismay.
There really was no option but to accept his help. Still, Lisa delayed as long as possible, swinging her feet out of the car first, her bag clutched tightly in her left hand. Finally, she put her clammy right hand into his outstretched palm, plastering a plastic smile on her face as she glanced up into his.
‘Thank you,’ she said with stiff politeness whilst her heart hammered away behind her ribs.
‘My pleasure,’ he returned, his fingers closing tightly around hers as he pulled her up onto her feet.
Lisa had a few seconds of respite when he dropped her hand and attended to locking up the car. But no sooner had she managed to calm her pulse rate a little than he slid his arm around her waist.
Naturally, she froze.
‘Don’t panic,’ he murmured. ‘Just window-dressing.’
Just window-dressing, Lisa thought almost bitterly as he propelled her towards the restaurant door. What an apt phrase to describe her! For years she’d acted like a mannequin, designed and dressed to look attractive, but not a flesh and blood woman.
No wonder Jack didn’t fancy her.
‘Jack! Jack!’
The owner of the voice came rushing over to them, a tall, skinny, black-haired woman dressed in the weirdest black clothes. There were lots of layers and beads, and her make-up was extremely pale and heavy, except for her bright red lipstick. Once closer, Lisa could see she was at least in her fifties.
‘Helene,’ Jack muttered under his breath. ‘Have patience.’
‘So!’ The agent’s beady black eyes glittered as she looked Lisa up and down. ‘I knew you wouldn’t come alone. Not Jack Cassidy.’
‘I decided it wasn’t wise to go into the lion’s den without a shield by my side,’ he said drily.
Helene cackled. ‘It’s a bit like that with you at these dos, isn’t it? You’re a brave woman, love,’ she directed at Lisa. ‘Our Jack here gets swamped by fans wanting his autograph. And a lot more of him if they can get it,’ she added with a wicked wink.
‘I can imagine,’ Lisa replied somewhat ruefully.
Helene laughed. ‘Jack, do introduce me to this delightful creature.’
‘This delightful creature is Lisa, Helene. Lisa, this is Helene, my brilliant agent.’
‘Heavens to Betsy! A compliment as well as a classy girlfriend! My cup runneth over! Hello, my love,’ she directed at Lisa. ‘You’re going to wow them in the States. You are taking her with you next year, Jack. Don’t tell me you’re not or I’ll have a pink fit right here and now.’
‘I’d love to take her with me,’ Jack said, pulling Lisa even closer to his side. ‘But Lisa has a company to run and a son to raise. I don’t think she can get away for a trip to the States, can you, darling?’
Lisa knew it was just pretend. Just window-dressing. Especially the darling bit.
But from the moment Jack’s side pressed hard against hers, everything inside her began to go to mush.
‘I’ll have to see,’ she heard herself say whilst she struggled to stop the amazing meltdown which was currently threatening her entire body.
‘Make her go with you, Jack,’ Helene insisted.
‘I’m afraid I can’t make Lisa do anything she doesn’t want to do,’ he said with a wry laugh. ‘She’s very strong-willed.’
Lisa almost laughed as well. Rather hysterically.
‘Do what Hal did in your second book, Jack,’ Helene advised. ‘Kidnap the girl and keep her your prisoner till she says yes to everything you want.’
‘I just might do that. But first, shall we go inside? Helene, look after Lisa for me for a couple of minutes, will you?’
‘Will do,’ the agent replied. ‘Come along, lovely Lisa. We’ll go in and find our table. I did ask for one of the smaller ones, knowing Jack’s distaste for making idle conversation with people he cares nothing for. Hopefully, we’re not stuck in some ghastly corner.’
They weren’t stuck in some ghastly corner. There were no real corners, the main body of the restaurant being semicircular, with huge windows overlooking the harbour. They had, probably, the best table in the house, very close to a window, with a great view of the bridge and the opera house. The table itself was round, covered in a crisp white tablecloth with matching serviettes, extremely expensive crystal glasses and a most spectacular, candlelit centre-piece. The carpet under-foot was a deep blue, and the overhead lighting very subdued.
‘Golly,’ Lisa said in impressed tones after the maître d’ had departed. ‘This is a fabulous place.’
‘It’s OK. At least they took notice of what I asked for. Jack’s going to be pleased that it’s only us.’
‘But the table is set for four,’ Lisa pointed out.
Helene grinned. ‘I told them I had a partner.’
‘And you don’t?’
‘Lord, no! Who’d have me? I’m a selfish, opinionated, ambitious bitch. On top of that, I’m skinny and downright ugly. Always have been.’

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