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‘I asked at the hotel reception for you.’ She was too stewed to care about what that admission might reveal. ‘They had no record of any Owen staying there.’
He paused, looked a touch uncomfortable. ‘I wasn’t staying at the resort.’
She stared at him in disbelief.
‘I have a holiday house just down from it.’
A holiday house—in one of the most exclusive stretches of beach on Waiheke Island? Who the hell was he?
He looked away, walked to the window. ‘No strings, Bella,’ he said carelessly, returning to her present predicament. ‘All I’m offering is a place to stay for a couple of days until this mess gets cleaned up.’
Bella pushed the memories out and internally debated. She didn’t have much in the way of personal possessions—nothing of any great value anyway. The most important stuff was her kit for the parties and that was in her car. It wouldn’t take five minutes to chuck a few things into a bag. And maybe, if she took up his offer, she could keep this latest catastr
ophe to herself? Her family need never know.
Slowly, she swallowed her remaining smidge of pride. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course.’ He shrugged, as if it was nothing. It probably was nothing to him. ‘I work all hours. I’ll hardly notice you’re there.’
She knew she could trust him; he certainly didn’t seem as if he was about to pounce. He’d gone running away in the night, hadn’t he? Humiliation washed over her again. But she had little choice—her family or him. She picked him—she’d lost all dignity as far as he was concerned already. Maybe she could keep the scrap she had left for her father. ‘OK.’
Owen failed to hide his smile, so turned quickly, heading down the stairs to deal with the fire crew. He fixed the bottom door enough to make it look as all right as possible from the outside and gave a half-guilty mutter of thanks for her misfortune. He wasn’t afraid to take advantage of this situation—not when she’d so coolly cut him loose that night. Because that flick of desire had blown to full-on inferno again—from a mere five minutes in her company. And now he had the perfect opportunity to have even more of her company—one night, maybe two. Enough to find out what had gone wrong, and then to finish what had started.
Bella stuffed a few clothes into a bag—not many—while dwelling on the glimpse of that wide, wicked, Waiheke smile he’d just flashed. It would only be one night. Two, tops.
Not taking sexy black lingerie. Not taking sexy black lingerie.
Somehow it ended up stuffed at the bottom of the bag.
CHAPTER SIX
THINGS came in threes, right? And Bella had had her three—her dress, the wine and now her flat. Surely nothing else could go wrong with this day?
‘Is there anyone you should call?’ Owen asked, opening the car door for her.
She shook her head. ‘I’ll take care of it later.’
‘Then let’s go.’
She sat back and tried to relax as he turned the car round and headed back towards the centre of town. He slowed as they hit what had once been the industrial district with lots of warehouses for storing the goods that came in on the harbour. Only now most of the warehouses had been converted—restaurants, upmarket shops and residential conversions in the upper storeys. It was the ultimate in inner-city living with theatres around the corner, Te Papa the national museum, the best film house in the country and shops, shops, shops. All less than a five-minute walk away.
He pulled in front of one warehouse. On one side of it was a restaurant, the other a funky design store. But there was nothing in the ground floor of this one. The windows were darkened. His car window slid down and he reached out to press numbers of the security pad that stood on a stand in front. The wide door opened up and he drove the car in. In the dim light she saw a big empty space—save for a mountain bike and some assorted gym equipment. It immediately reminded her of his muscles. She looked away. There was a lift to the side and a steep flight of stairs heading up in a straight line. He stepped forward, tackling the stairs.
‘My apartment is on the top floor.’
Of course it was. On the third level there was another security pad, another pin number. The guy was clearly security conscious. Once inside she blinked—her eyes taking a second to cope with the transition from gloomy stairwell to bright room. It was huge. At first glance all she saw were wooden floors, bricks, steel beams. Half the roof had been ripped off and replaced with skylights—flooding the place in fresh, natural light. There was a huge table in the centre, surrounded by an assortment of chairs, but it was the long workbench that ran the length of one wall that caught her attention.
‘Is your computer screen big enough?’ She stared in amazement at the display of technology lined up on it. ‘Have you got enough of them?’
He grinned. ‘Actually most of them are in the office on the second floor.’
‘So what, these are just for fun?’
He gave her a whisker of a wink, a faint fingerprint of the humour he’d had that night on Waiheke. Then it was gone. He walked ahead of her, leading her to the kitchen area, and she watched awkwardly as he put items into the fridge and freezer.
‘Most of the apartment has yet to be done. After getting my room and the kitchen done I just ran out of—’
‘Money?’ she interpolated hopefully. Surely she couldn’t have been so far wrong about this guy.
