Free There's Something About a Rebel- by Anne Oliver Page B

which in turn floated above the rear third of the cavernous space.
    It might have reminded him of a church except for the sound of a CD player crackling away with the unmistakeable voice of Robbie Williams from somewhere up those stairs.
    With his box under one arm, he crossed the floor, appreciating the warm ambience. What better venue to launch an interior design business? With his mother’s contacts and Lissa’s obvious expertise, they couldn’t lose.
    But when he reached the top of the staircase he came to a silent halt.
    Lissa was dancing, bare feet moving lightly in time with the song. A pad of some description lay open on the floor beside her. She’d been sketching. something. Didn’t matter—he didn’teven cast his eyes in the pad’s direction. It was the woman he wanted to feast his eyes on.
    The day’s last vermilion beams lasered through the only upstairs window high above them, turning her magnificent crown of hair to flame, painting her limbs gold and leaving the shadowed spaces a dusky purple. He stood, transfixed in the stairwell’s dimness. Held his breath, though he doubted he had any breath left in him to hold.
    She’d changed into a loose white top that dipped low at the front. Beneath it she wore short white shorts leaving her legs bare.
    Those feet moved fast and light, as if she were dancing on air, but her arms moved above her in a graceful arc, her gaze wholly focused at some point in the middle distance, her lips turned up slightly at the corners as if delighting in the moment.
    It was like watching an angel.
    Would she wear that same expression if he were lying beneath her? Would she make love with that wholly focused gaze and delight?
    He shook his head to clear the lusty thoughts. Angels were supposed to be pure asexual beings, weren’t they? And as far as he knew, they didn’t make love.
Virginal.
But he could have watched for an eternity, absorbed in the beauty of the moment—and her—but she turned and saw him and that golden moment was gone.
    For a breathless heartbeat she watched himwith those wide clear eyes. Then she blinked as if coming out of a trance and slowly lowered her arms. Perspiration dewed her skin and her breathing was elevated, drawing his attention to her breasts as they rose and fell. He couldn’t look away.
    ‘Hi.’ He kept his voice casual, breaking the sudden tension.
    She lifted a self-conscious shoulder and colour rose up her neck. ‘Hi.’ Bending so that her hair curtained her face, she flipped the pad shut, creating a draught across the floor, and he caught the fragrance of some exotic perfume she’d not been wearing earlier today. It reminded him of midnight madness on a moonlit beach.
    ‘I found an old CD player someone left behind.’ She moved to it, squatted down and lowered the volume. ‘Have you been standing there long?’
    ‘Not long.’ Not long enough. Too long.
    ‘Dancing’s my stress reliever of choice. And chocolate, of course.’ She helped herself to a four-square row from the half-eaten block beside the player. ‘I guess I got carried away.’
    ‘You don’t share?’
    ‘Sure, sorry.’ She grabbed the bar, held it out. ‘Help yourself.’
    ‘Not the chocolate.’ He gestured towards the pad. ‘Your art or whatever you were sketching there.’
    ‘Ideas for your living room. But you don’t get to see them until I’m done.’
    With the tip of her tongue, she licked a small fleck of chocolate from the corner of her mouth. He watched her, wishing he could’ve been the one to sample that sweet taste on her mouth. Then she wiped the spot with a finger for good measure and said, ‘What have you got there?’
    He’d forgotten all about the box. He withdrew the aromatic bag, held it up. ‘I thought you might be hungry but I see you’re already well supplied.’
    She shook her head. ‘Chocolate doesn’t count. I’m starving. And that, whatever it is, smells delicious. Let me guess.’ Closing her eyes, she inhaled slowly.