Waking Up To Dr Gorgeous

Her heart was still racing and the frantic pounding almost drowned out the sound of the footsteps. That made her pause. This had to be the world’s noisiest burglar. She hadn’t had much experience with burglars but surely they would generally try to be quiet? This one was making absolutely no attempt to be silent. Plus he had turned the lights on. Definitely not stealthy.

He was a terrible burglar, possibly one of the worst ever.

But maybe he thought the house was empty? Perhaps she should make some noise? Enough noise for two people.

She heard the soft pop as the seal on the fridge door was broken. She frowned. Now he was looking in the fridge? Making himself at home. She was positive it wasn’t Callum. Luci had spoken to Flick earlier in the day. Callum had well and truly arrived in Vickers Hill and according to her friend he was creating a bit of a stir. Luci hoped he wasn’t going to prove difficult—he was supposed to be making things easier for her dad, not harder, but she couldn’t do much about it. All it meant to her was that it wasn’t Callum in the apartment. And she was pretty sure by now that it wasn’t a burglar either, but that still meant a stranger was in the house.

She needed to get dressed.

She switched on the bedside light and was halfway out of bed when she heard the footsteps moving along the passage. While she was debating her options she saw the bedroom door handle moving.

OMG, they were coming in.

‘You’d better get out of here. I’ve called the police,’ she yelled, not knowing what else to do.

The door handle continued to turn and a voice said, ‘You’ve done what?’

When it became obvious that the person who belonged to the voice was intent on entering her room she jumped back into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, grabbing her phone just in case she did need to call the cops.

‘I’ll scream,’ she added for good measure.

But the door continued to open and a vision appeared. Luci wondered briefly if she was dreaming. Her heart was racing at a million miles an hour but now she had no clue whether it was due to nerves, fear, panic or simple lust. This intruder might just be the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on. Surely someone this gorgeous couldn’t be evil?

But then Ted Bundy sprang to mind. He was a good-looking, charming, educated man who just happened to be a serial killer. ‘Don’t come any closer,’ she said.

He stopped and held his hands out to his sides. ‘I’m not going to hurt you, but who the hell are you and what are you doing in my room?’ he said.

‘Your room?’

Was this Callum? She was certain she’d chosen the guest bedroom but, anyway, what was he doing here? He couldn’t have got back to Sydney that quickly. He was supposed to be a thousand miles away, staying in her house. That was how a house swap worked. ‘Why aren’t you in Vickers Hill?’

‘What the heck is Vickers Hill?’

Luci frowned. ‘Who are you?’

He couldn’t be Callum. So whose room was she in exactly?

‘Seb. Seb Hollingsworth.’

Seb.

‘You’re not Callum?’

A crease appeared between his superb blue eyes as he frowned. ‘No. I’m his brother.’

Luci almost missed his answer, distracted as she was by the thick, dark eyelashes that framed his eyes.

‘Brother!’ Why hadn’t Callum warned her? She sat up in the bed, taking care to make sure the sheets prevented any sort of indecent exposure. ‘Callum didn’t mention you.’

‘So you do know Cal, then?’

‘Sort of.’

He lifted one eyebrow but said nothing.

Luci could play that game too. And she used the silent seconds to examine the vision a little more closely.

He truly was gorgeous. Tall, really tall, with thick dark hair, chestnut she’d call it. He had eyebrows to match that shaded piercing blue eyes and a nose that may or may not have been broken once upon a time. His lips were full and pink, and a two-day growth of beard darkened his jaw.

His torso was bare but he held what appeared to be a black T-shirt in his hand. Just what had he been planning on doing? she wondered, before she was distracted again by his broad shoulders and smooth chest. He reminded her of someone, she thought as her eyes roamed over his body.

The statue of David, she thought, brought to life. He was made of warm flesh instead of cool marble but had the same, startling level of perfection.

Her heart was still beating a rapid tattoo. Adrenaline was still coursing through her system but not out of fear. Now it was a simple chemical, or maybe hormonal, reaction.

‘I think you have some explaining to do,’ said the living, breathing statue.

In Luci’s opinion so did Callum, Seb’s absent brother, and she was blowed if she was going to explain herself while she lay in bed naked. She clutched the sheet a little more tightly across her breasts. ‘Let me get dressed and then we can talk.’

The corner of Seb’s mouth lifted in a wry smile and there was a wicked gleam in his blue eyes. Luci felt a burst of heat explode in her belly and she knew that the heat would taint her body with a blush of pink. She could feel the warmth spreading up over her chest and neck as Seb continued to stand in the doorway. Did he know the effect he was having on her? She had to get rid of him.

‘Can you give me a minute?’ she asked.

‘Sure, sorry,’ he replied, looking anything but sorry. ‘And while you’re at it,’ he added, glancing at the phone that was still clutched in her hand along with the sheet, ‘do you think you could ring the police and tell them it was just a misunderstanding? I don’t want the neighbours getting the wrong idea.’

‘I didn’t actually ring the police,’ Luci admitted.

He turned and left the room, pulling the door closed behind him, and she could hear him laughing, a deep, cheerful sound that lifted her spirits.

Luci waited to hear his footsteps retreat before she was brave enough to throw off the sheets once more. She climbed out of bed on shaky legs and pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. She padded down the hallway to the open-plan lounge and kitchen to find Seb with his head in the fridge, giving her a very nice view of a tidy rear covered in denim. His bare feet poked out of the bottom of his jeans.

She stepped around a pile of luggage that had been dumped beside the couch. A brown leather jacket was draped over a duffel bag and a motorbike helmet sat on the floor beside a pair of sturdy boots, the boots that had been stomping down the passage. There was a thick layer of reddish-brown dust covering everything.

She ducked through the kitchen and into the dining area, where she stood on the far side of the table, putting some distance between them. Despite the fact that he looked like something created by Michelangelo and appeared to be related to the owner of the house, she wasn’t prepared to take his word for it just yet. Until she’d decided he wasn’t a serial killer she wasn’t taking any chances.

He stood up and turned to face her. His chest was now covered by his black T-shirt—that was a pity—and he had two small bottles of beer in his hand.

‘Beer?’ he asked as he raised his hand.

Luci shook her head.

He put one bottle back in the fridge, closed the door and then twisted the top off the other bottle and took a swig. He watched her as she watched him but he didn’t seem as nervous as her. Not nearly.

He stepped over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. He pushed the chair back and stretched his legs out. He was tall. His legs were long. He was fiddling with the beer bottle and she couldn’t help but notice that his fingers were long and slender too.

He lifted his eyes up to meet her gaze. ‘So, sleeping beauty, do you have a name?’

‘Luci.’