Enemies with Benefits

‘Hmm. I thought there was more in there. I’m just …’ His smile made him look like some major celeb. She’d never noticed that before either. Gangly teenager Isaac was now pretty damned handsome? Who knew? And now he was swaying, too. Oops … no, it was her … What was she doing? The tree … yes, the tree. ‘I just need to finish this decorating. Then I really should go to bed.’

‘You need a hand?’

‘Going to bed? No. I don’t think—’ She looked down at his palm. It was a nice hand. Slender fingers, neat nails and the slightly roughened skin of a man who worked with his hands …

Oh, and his brain. Because he was also too clever and too successful—seemed the man just knew instinctively about bars and where to put them and who to market them to. Clever, and her brother’s friend. And then he’d found out her deepest, darkest secret …

Stupid. Stupid.

‘No. Thanks. I’m just finishing this. You can go.’ She wafted her hand to him to leave, needed him to leave as that memory rose, scoring the insides of her gut like sandpaper.

She slid her fist back into the decorations box. Something warm banged against it, then darted out of the hole. Something brown. Small. With more legs than she had time to count.

‘Yikes!’ Jumping back, she stepped on Isaac’s booted foot, banged against his body—which was a whole lot firmer than she ever remembered—and ricocheted off him into an armchair, which she scrambled on, all the better to get out of the way of a man-eating furball. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. ‘What … the … hell was that?’

Isaac laughed as he ducked down to the floor. ‘Shh … it’s just a little mouse. Very frightened now, too, by your crazy demonic scream.’ He crawled along the carpet, hemming the creature into a corner, then swooped in and grabbed.

It darted away, under the TV cupboard and into a very dark corner. Now the only view Poppy had was of a very firm-looking jeans-clad backside. And a slice of skin between his belt and T-shirt, skin that for an odd reason made her tummy do a little somersault. Seemed Isaac had recently been somewhere sun-kissed as well as wintry northern Europe. ‘Have you got it?’

A muffled voice came from underneath the cupboard. ‘For an educated woman who uses scalpels for a living you’re mighty squeamish when it comes to tiny pests. I think it’s escaped.’

‘You think? You think? I can’t live here thinking I don’t have mice. I want to know I don’t have mice. I don’t like them, they scare me, however irrational that makes me. And where there’s one, there’s always more. There could be fifty of them.’

‘Then at least you won’t be alone, right?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Sure you are.’ He scrambled up, looked at her all hunched up on the chair and grinned. ‘So you were yelling at some poor, unsuspecting, innocent bystanders. Very loudly.’

‘They were down there across the road and I’m up here behind a window. They didn’t hear.’

‘No. But I imagine the rest of the building did. Where is everyone?’

She slumped down, choosing not to have any more wine, because, seriously, two bottles were way more than she usually had. The mouse had done a runner, so she shovelled her feet under her backside in case it decided to retrace its teeny steps. ‘They’re all out. Gone. Holidays, shopping … all insanely happy and …’ Left behind.

He perched on the arm of the chair, arms folded over his chest—looking as if he was trying to appear sympathetic but inwardly laughing. The way his face lit up when he laughed … that mouth, so nice, so weird. And maybe it was Shiraz-coloured glasses because he was so good-looking weird. Attractive weird. Sexy weird. Infuriating Isaac was eye candy, too. Who knew?

She’d been so busy being annoyed at him living in her space that she hadn’t thought anything else about him at all. Apart from being aware of an electric current every time she was in the same room as him. She’d always assumed that had been caused by her anger at his general class-A irritatingness. ‘Fancy them going off and having a nice time without you. Poor Poppy. Lonely?’

And he was a mind-reader, too, but no way would she fess up to such an idea. ‘Don’t be silly. It’s great that they’re all sorted—it gets them off my hands. Finally.’

‘You love it, though, playing the mum, looking after them all, nurturing them … putting up the tree as a surprise for when they get home. Sweet. You don’t want to be alone at all, do you?’

‘You make it sound pathetic when really I’m just using you all to pay the mortgage.’

He leant towards her. ‘Hey, I was joking—at least you were the sensible sibling and put your money into bricks and mortar instead of partying it away like Alex. And it’s a great flat even if it does get a little busy. And leaky. But the company helps, right?’

‘Some of the company does …’

‘Don’t worry, message received loud and clear. I’m sorry Alex gave me the room without talking to you first. I wouldn’t have moved straight in if I’d known. But I’ll be out of your hair as soon as my apartment’s done.’ Isaac’s grin smoothed into that soft smile again and for some strange reason her unmentionables suddenly got hot and bothered.

What? No. It was just unseasonably warm tonight. Or a vasoconstrictive response to the wine. Or something. Whatever was making her body parts flush it was definitely not Isaac Blair. ‘Oh, yes, the swanky South Ken penthouse. I’ve heard it’s going to be very nice. Very swish and expensive.’ Very uncluttered, too, no doubt. Isaac liked to keep things simple—most notably his love life, which, she’d observed over the years, was more like a revolving door of heartbroken women trying to ensnare him, and nothing stable or serious. Or committed. Ever. ‘And the renovations will be finished when?’ Hope rose.

‘A couple more months, I imagine. There’s Christmas coming and everything shuts down so there’ll be no progress made for a few weeks. Mid-February?’

Hope fell, but, God knew, she needed the cash to fund her home loan. Alex might well have spent all his inheritance but he’d had a good time in the process. All she’d got out of ploughing her grandmother’s inheritance cash into a bijou flat was a financial noose around her neck, dodgy plumbing and four-legged furry friends. Regardless, she didn’t feel overly comfortable being on her own with Isaac and flushing unmentionables. ‘Okay, so you stay on longer than February the twenty-eighth and I’ll charge you double rent.’

His eyes widened. ‘You drive a very hard bargain, Dr Spencer.’

‘Indeed I do.’ Her eyes locked with his and there was a strange rippling in the atmosphere between them. Was she imagining it or did he feel it, too?

He dragged his gaze away, but not before she caught a glimpse of tease there. Maybe a little heat. Whoa. Isaac? Heat? With her? Maybe she hadn’t imagined it.

‘So it’s just you and me here tonight, then?’ he asked.

‘It appears so.’ And why did that make her feel suddenly nervous? No, not nervous … tingly. Tingly happened to other people. Not her.

She looked across the wooden floor to the dark hole under the TV and tingly mingled with fear. Although she had to admit she did feel a lot better with Isaac in the flat. ‘Just you, me and our furry friend, of course … plus his babies, wife, mother, grandparents, probably a community the size of a small tropical nation living in the rafters, the walls … under my bed.’

‘I’ll get a trap tomorrow from the hardware stall at the market and have a word with the café and let them know we have guests. They’ll need to know for their own health and safety measures.’

‘Oh, I don’t want it hurt, or dead. I just want it gone. Out of here.’

‘Like me? Right.’

Got it in one. She couldn’t hide the smile. ‘You can stay if you can keep the rodent population to a minimum. Humanely. Yes. Yes. The mice. Do things … with them.’ Was she rambling a little?

‘Is that all I’m good for, really?’

She could think of a few things—starting with that mouth. Her stomach joined her head in all kinds of woozy. Definitely too much alcohol on an empty stomach. ‘I’m sure you’re good for a lot of things, Isaac …’

‘I’ve never had any complaints.’ He stood up, the flash of cheekiness gone. She wondered how it would be to really flirt with him, just a little. But then she didn’t know how. He brushed down his T-shirt and strode towards his bag.

There was something she was supposed to ask him. She couldn’t remember … Something about work or Christmas … Her head was getting foggy … Oh, yes … She held up a finger. ‘Wait. One thing.’

He stopped and turned, the bag still in his hand. ‘Yes?’

‘I have a problem.’

Smug eyebrows peaked. ‘Oh? Just the one?’

‘Don’t be cheeky. I’m organising the department Christmas party and the venue has double-booked us. Any chance Blue could fit us in? I’m in a bit of a pickle because I’m organising the party …’ Had she already said that? He might just save the day. She put her hand on one hip and flashed him her best winning smile. ‘Pretty please?’

It appeared to have little effect apart from the eyebrows rising further. ‘Now you’re just being nice because you want something. Poppy, Poppy, should I charge you double rates, too? What night?’

‘Next Friday.’

‘I’ll check the diary tomorrow. Shouldn’t be a problem, though. That’s early for a Christmas party.’