All He Wants For Christmas...: Flirting With Intent / Blame it on the Bikini / Restless. Kelly Hunter
Kong. It was an arrangement that seemed to suit everyone, including one tiny standoffish cat.
Nothing to hold her in Hong Kong now and nothing planned except for a week or two of sand, sea and Damon, and she didn’t know what to expect from him, other than surprises. She didn’t know why she was here except that somewhere between meeting him and agreeing to this, she’d lost her brain.
What kind of woman flew halfway around the world to visit a man who’d enchanted her and then warned her not to expect anything from him? A man for whom secrets and hacking and blackmail were everyday events? Or at least regular events.
Why had she ever said yes to this?
You’re in love with him, said a little voice but Ruby rejected the notion outright.
I am not!
Then you’re besotted by him, said the little voice, and this much she had to concede.
The sex is very good, yes.
You’re going to try and change him. Turn him into a good boy.
Not sure that’s possible. Anyway, he’s not entirely bad. Espionage is a time-honoured profession. Heroic even. He’s a thief, Ruby.
He works to preserve the power balance between nations. He aims to protect. He was trying to protect me from the consequences of knowing too much. That’s very honourable.
Silence from the stalls. Win for Ruby.
But as she stepped through the arrival doors of the small regional airport and spotted Damon and her body melted and her wits turned to water with nothing but a glance from those midnight-blue eyes, the little voice spoke again.
You are so utterly gone on this man. Accepting him for what he is. Defending his less-than-stellar decisions. Not even wanting to tweak him. Put your own life on hold just to be with him. What’s that if not love?
It’s not love. It’s just … exploration.
And you’re irrational. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I rest my case.
But Ruby wasn’t listening any more, she was too busy walking towards Damon.
He stood well back from the crowd, with his back to a wall and his hands in the pockets of a pair of calf-length cargos. He looked more tanned than he had been at Christmas. His white T-shirt—like his cargos—had seen better days.
Beach wear, one supposed. Casual and comfortable.
Ruby’s wardrobe rarely ran to casual, comfortable beachwear. Tennis garb on Rhode Island was about as casual as she got. Mainly because, without fail, across all the years of her upbringing, she’d never not been on show. At her father’s side. As her mother’s daughter. Appearances mattered.
She had a feeling that appearances didn’t matter much to Damon.
‘I like your headband,’ he said when he reached her.
Or maybe they did.
‘It’s very restrained for you,’ he said next.
Which was true, because she’d gone for a plain white band to match her uncrushable white travelling shirt and jacket and her equally uncrushable lemon-coloured miniskirt. Sometimes synthetics were the only way to go.
‘I like your tie,’ she said in return, and his eyes warmed and he leaned down to greet her with a casual kiss, the kind that got bandied about between friends.
‘You came,’ he said next. ‘I wasn’t sure you would.’ And suddenly the air between them crackled with everything they weren’t saying.
‘I said I would.’
‘Still …’ Damon shrugged. ‘People change their minds.’
‘Have you?’ Best to get it over with, if Damon had indeed changed his mind about the wisdom of her visiting him here.
‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m in if you are.’
‘I’m here,’ she said simply. ‘And I’m not here under duress.’
Damon’s smile came slow and sweet. ‘Welcome to Australia, Ruby. How are you liking it so far?’
‘Sydney Harbour’s far more beautiful than in its pictures and the vibe so far is—’ she spared a glance for his superbly fitting T-shirt ‘—relaxed. I may not have packed the right clothes.’
‘Lucky for you we have shops. Or you can just borrow some of mine.’
‘You mean you have more than one set?’ she queried archly.
‘I have a few sets at the house. C’mon, let’s get you there. From there we’ll hit the beach. You’ll like the beach.’
Damon’s vehicle was some sort of utility four-wheel drive. Unprepossessing. New-car clean. Nothing to write home about.
His beach house, on the other hand, completely enchanted her. Split level, the rooms wrapped around a central Balinese-style pavilion area, and the ceilings soared, and windows were everywhere.
There were guest rooms and games rooms, sitting rooms and entertainment halls. An open-plan chef’s kitchen and a garden that offered lushness and privacy and invited exploration. A narrow path ran from the other side of the outdoor pool, over a smattering of sand dunes, and wound its way down to the beach. The beach stretched for miles on either side, waves crashed ebulliently on the sand, and the ocean beyond the waves stretched clear to the horizon.
Casual, comfortable living didn’t come any more luxurious than this.
‘It’s beautiful, Damon,’ she said as he set her luggage down and turned towards her.
‘It’s easy to kick back here,’ he said quietly. ‘Be as formal or as informal as you like. As elegant or whimsical as you like.’ He offered up a tiny smile. ‘Just be yourself. This house will hold you; enjoy whatever you bring to it, even. And so will I.’
Now there was a welcome to set a heart to fluttering. She’d forgotten just how easily he could charm her when he wanted to. ‘You speak as if this place is alive.’
‘It is. The minute I walked through its doors I knew I had to own it.’
‘Impulsive.’
‘Or maybe I just know what I want.’ ‘Well, there’s that too.’ And she couldn’t fault it.
‘If you find any girl stuff here, it’s Lena’s,’ he said. ‘She’s been staying with me up until a couple of days ago.’
‘Got it. Thanks for the heads up,’ said Ruby. ‘How is Lena?’
‘Frail. Not nearly as strong as she wants to be.’
‘She didn’t strike me as weak, Damon. Even in Hong Kong. Begs the question of what she used to be like.’
‘Amazing,’ he said simply. ‘She was amazing. She sends her regards, by the way, and she left you a basket full of bath stuff and creams for you to use during your stay. It’s in your room.’
‘I’ll have to thank her.’
‘There’s a housekeeper who comes in a couple of times a week. I had her prepare a bedroom for you.’
‘Oh,’ said Ruby, and eyed him uncertainly. ‘Thank you.’
‘Doesn’t mean I don’t want you in my bed, Ruby. Just that there’s a room you can call your own as well. I asked Lena if that was the sort of set-up you might prefer. She said yes.’
Lena said.
Thanks, Lena.
He headed towards a wide wooden bowl and dropped his keys in it and took something else out of it.
‘I’m