Matthew Jamieson scanned the neighboring property through binoculars. Two men. Could be innocent. Could be trouble. Could be a pain in his arse. One man mowed the grass and the other cut back trees and the encroaching undergrowth. He cursed under his breath. This might interrupt the harvest, muck up his retirement plans.
Damn, he’d known he shouldn’t use the land, but it had been the best solution. Hell, a brilliant answer to his problem. He’d made an offer to purchase via his solicitor and been summarily rejected. The owner vetoed his second increased offer. He hadn’t liked to make a third and arouse curiosity.
Place was a dump, the land acreage too small for economic farming. None of his investigations turned up details about C Miller-Pope, other than his name. His inability to extract information from the law firm handling the property had irked him, but after almost nine months of inactivity, he’d decided it was safe to make use of the land to increase his drug production area.
Mistake.
He’d sensed it in his gut yet forged ahead anyway. Taken a calculated risk.
“Fuck.” Matt placed the binoculars on the nearby table and rubbed his face, mind racing, playing the angles as he paced. He halted at the desk in the corner, spinning to return to the cluster of chairs arranged to take advantage of the view.
Yeah, that might work.
He plucked his cell phone from his pocket and rang Herbert, his top man. In a crisp voice, he issued instructions, then disconnected. He stared through the window of his upstairs lounge, his gaze trailing the man mowing grass.
With a harsh sigh, he settled in his favorite chair and reached for the bottle of imported beer he’d opened earlier.
The ability to roll with life’s punches had turned him into a successful businessman. This was nothing but a small bump on the road to his empire. His plan to retire with his son would go ahead. He refused to allow an alternative.
* * * * *
“You could have warned me about his Supreme Hunkiness. Just a workmate, you said. His panty-wetting grin…” Cassie broke off, unwilling to share the extent of her instant arousal. She cleared her throat. “All that hotness needs a license.”
“He’s a flirt. Women adore him,” Emma agreed. “But a warning. As much as I love Hone, he’s not interested in settling with one woman. If you want a holiday fling, Hone is your man. If you’re looking for more, and I suspect you are, trying man-shopping in another market.”
“He’s almost as sexy as Jack.” Cassie’s gaze followed Hone’s progress as he cut the overgrown grass. Tall, over six foot. Messy black hair in need of a cut to tame the curls. Probably brown eyes, given his Maori descent and coloring. Muscles that rippled with each circuit of her lawn, a hairless chest and intriguing tattoos on his back and left biceps. Not an ounce of surplus flesh on him. Easy to see this since he’d whipped off his T-shirt and wore only shorts. She sighed. “It might be worth a dented heart to spend time bumping uglies with him.”
A choked gasp came from Emma, and Cassie turned to gape at her friend. She’d turned red in the face attempting to hold back her laughter. Well, Cassie couldn’t have that. She gave a thumbs-up sign, waggled her eyebrows and worked to hold back the giggles tickling her throat.
Emma exploded in an unladylike guffaw. Seconds later, Cassie let her own amusement loose. They chortled and gasped until they held each other to stay upright. Cassie hadn’t laughed this hard for ages, and as she wiped away her mirth and replaced her glasses, she was glad she’d insisted on taking a break, even if it had left Kevin pissed and grumpy.
She picked up the hammer and the crowbar. “We’d better get started on this carpet.”
“Oh no you don’t,” Emma said, taking ownership of the tools. “You haven’t outgrown the clumsy gene yet.”
Funny, when her mother commented on her habitual clumsiness, Cassie bristled enough to resemble a hedgehog. When her friend did the same thing, she handed over the tools without argument.
“All right. You pull out the tacks, and I’ll roll up the strips.”
They set to work with much chatter to catch up on the things each of them had done since their last letter.
“It must be fun traveling to new places,” Emma said, pausing to wipe her forehead.
After the usual unsettled December weather of muggy temperatures and precipitation, summer had arrived with a roar in the New Year, the dry conditions and lack of forecast rain setting farmers grumbling about drought. Cassie didn’t care about the weather, happy to be back with her friend and in the place she called home.
“It was exciting—for a while—but one hotel room resembles the next. It’s lonely,” she confessed. “I sing at a venue, pack up, travel to the next city and repeat. The constant travel is exhausting. The promo events are nerve-racking. You’d think they’d get easier. They don’t. My bubbly blonde act has a price, even though it offers me anonymity when I step back for a break.” At first, her wigs and costumes had been a coping mechanism for stage fright. A smokescreen when she became confident. A diva. A star. Now, fatigue weighed on her shoulders. Exhaustion had left her questioning her path and she had no idea of what to do to make things better.
“So, what have you decided to do?”
“Kevin wants me to try some crossover songs. More pop than country. Then, once I break out, he wants to do a world tour.”
Emma shot her a look of concern. “You don’t sound keen.”
“It’s the touring part. It’s isolating and strenuous, physically and emotionally. Kevin wants to sign me with a bigger label.”
“Can you do that?” Emma returned to ripping up carpet tacks.
“My contract is almost at an end with both Kevin and the label. I’ve fulfilled my obligations. I have new contract offers from both but I haven’t signed anything yet.” She shrugged and stood to stretch abused muscles. “That’s something else to worry about.”
“What do you want to do?”
Cassie chuckled, amused and impressed. “You’re the first person to ask me that.”
“Do you know?”
“I want to write new songs.”
“Genre?”
Cassie cocked her head, considering. “I have the urge to write more upbeat stuff. That part gels with Kevin, but I’m sick, sick, sick of syrupy-sweet ballads about cheating and broken hearts. Kevin wants the pop version of syrupy-sweet.”
“Would you like my opinion?”
“What?”
“You’ve already decided what you want to do but you’re scared of Kevin’s reaction.”
“How do you figure that?”
Emma stood. “Because you’re my best friend. I understand your thought processes almost as well as my own.”
Speechless, she gaped at Emma. “Kevin wants me to change up my image.”
“Wait.” Emma held up her hand. “Don’t tell me. He wants you to lose weight.”
“Yes.”
“What do you think about that part?”
“I’m tired of people commenting on my weight. I’ve always been big, but I do eat healthily, especially when I’m on the road. I exercise and my weight stays the same. I feel good. That’s what I told him. We argued about it.”
“I see.” Emma’s expression hit enigmatic, but Cassie understood her views on busybody know-it-alls.
“Kevin keeps leaving me messages. I’m not talking to him.”
“I see.”
Cassie scowled. “What do you see?”
Emma applauded, mischief illuminating her like a diva in a spotlight. “That you’re finally getting a set of balls.”
A snort escaped Cassie. It was true. She’d started standing up for herself with Kevin and not letting him steamroll right over her or rush her into decisions. A recent occurrence, and one that gave her a measure of pride. She should’ve found her backbone much earlier.
“What did your stars say?”
Cassie blushed. “I can’t believe you remembered I read my stars every day.”
“Nothing wrong with that. It’s a fun quirk.”
“Last month, the forecast that slipped into my inbox implied I had a big decision to make and I should trust my gut instincts. Later that day, Kevin hit me with his vision of my future. I said I’d consider it instead of agreeing.”
“Good for you.”
“Can you help me roll up this piece of carpet? It’s huge.”
“I’ll help,” a husky masculine voice said from behind her.
Cassie let out an eep and twisted too fast. Her feet tangled, and she landed hard on her butt. “Ouch.” She flicked down the skirts of her dress and surreptitiously rubbed her abused behind. “I thought padding was meant to help cushion clumsiness.”
“Sorry.” Hone’s amusement flooded his face—lips, wrinkled nose, and ended in his magnetic chocolate-brown eyes. He shot a quick, searching glance at Emma before crouching beside her.
Yep, sex-on-a-stick, and she badly wanted to lick every inch of bared skin. When Cassie realized her mouth gaped, she clamped her jaw shut. She’d been right about the eye color. However, his charisma and sex appeal, the lustful jolt to her nerve-endings when she stared at him… Nothing could prepare a woman for that sizzle.
“Not a thing wrong with your padding.” Hone winked and stroked his finger over her cheek. “Cobweb. You don’t want to walk around with spider silk on your pretty face.”
“Stop flirting with her.” Emma’s expression held disapproval. “Have you finished the lawn?”
“Ran out of petrol.”
He stood and prowled—there was no other word for it—across the room to squat at the far edge of the big piece of worn blue carpet. “Ready?”
Cassie blinked from her reverie and readied herself to roll her end. With Hone’s help, the process ran smoothly. They stacked the last piece with the others against the wall and moved into the next room where Emma was already busy lifting tacks.
“Why is there sheep shit everywhere?” Hone eyed the graffiti on the wall. “The tags are recent.”
Cassie scowled at the slogans. Red in this room. “There were sheep here when we came inside. The vandals left the back door open, or at least that’s my assumption.”
“How did they get in?”
“The front door wasn’t locked.”
“You’re not staying here tonight,” Hone said.
Not a question. A statement.
Cassie lifted her chin to give him attitude. Her scowl bounced right off his flirtatious grin.
“I have no idea what they did with the furniture,” she said. “I had intended to stay, but the house has been stripped. The lawyer organized someone to clean the house. At least that was my assumption. I’ll have to ask him about Grandad’s private stuff.”
“He didn’t tell you?” Hone asked.
Cassie exchanged an I-bet-I-know-what-happened glance with Emma. “My parents probably had a hand in the house clearing. They assumed my father would inherit but Grandad left the property to me.”
Hone’s gaze skimmed her, their surroundings. “You said the front door was unlocked?”
“The lawyer made a point of giving me the keys so it should’ve been locked.”
“I’ll see if I can find where they broke inside.” Hone stalked from the room, his exit as quiet as his entrance.
“That man needs bells,” she said to Emma, surreptitiously rubbing her butt again.
“Where will you stay?”
“I’ll book a motel room in Papakura until I can replace furniture and have new locks fitted.”
“I can sort out the locks for you,” Hone said.
Cassie started and clapped her hand to her racing heart. “Will you stop creeping around?”
“I’ll wear my bells tomorrow,” Hone deadpanned.
“You heard that?”
“He has the hearing of a bat,” Emma said. “So does Jack. It’s a PI thing.”
“My Auntie June runs a motel in Papakura. I’ll give her a call if you want a room,” Hone offered.
“You heard that too?”
Hone full-out grinned. Yep, lethal and she’d become a victim. Heat spilled into her cheeks, and she had to focus on hiding her unease.
“Should I ring Auntie?”
“Yes, please. I’d like to book in for a week.”
“You want the carpet lifted in the other rooms?” Jack’s voice came from behind her.
Cassie whirled. “What is wrong with you two? My pulse rate is still erratic after my unexpected meeting with the sheep. I don’t need men creeping around giving me a heart attack on top of that.”
Jack lifted a dark brow. “Carpet? The other rooms?”
“Yes, please.” Cassie watched them leave, admiring the view.
A sharp nudge in her ribs jolted her from the mesmerizing sight.
“Stop ogling my man.”
“Sorry. Jack makes me nervous, but the view is fine.” She double-checked for possible eavesdroppers. “Mostly, I was gawking at Hone.”
“He’s charming, but he’s a player.” Emma’s brow furrowed. “I can tell he’s interested in playing with you, so be careful. He will break your heart.”
“Kevin already broke my heart.”
“You wrote you’d broken things off, but you never said why. I didn’t ask because I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”
“And that is why you’re my best friend. You understand when to push or hold back. I…Kevin had asked me to marry him. I was ecstatic. I decided to surprise him in his hotel room with a home-cooked meal. I walked in on him in bed with a man and a woman.”
“A couple?” Intrigue played over Emma’s features.
“A backup singer and her boyfriend roadie. The three of them were having a fine old time when I pranced into the bedroom.”
“What did you do?”
“I tipped the dinner over them. I’d like to say I did it on purpose but there were clothes everywhere. I tripped over a pair of jeans and lost my balance.”
“Oh.” Emma’s lips quirked. “What did you cook for dinner?”
“Hungarian goulash with noodles, steamed carrots and broccoli. The bright colors contrasted nicely with the white bed linens. I chucked the ring at Kevin.” Her shoulders slumped as she recalled that part. “I missed and hit the backup singer. Gave her a black eye.”
“She deserved it. Why haven’t you sacked Kevin?”
“He’s good at his job and we had a contract. All the shows were sold out. I couldn’t bail.”
“You mentioned the contract.”
“It runs out a week after my label contract. Kevin didn’t want to chain himself to me if I wasn’t a success. He was taking a chance on an unknown. I understood his caution.”
Hone listened to the rise and fall of the women’s voices as he and Jack lifted strips of carpet to reveal dusty wooden boards. Native kauri wood. Once treated and polished, they’d gleam and last for years.
“What does Cassie do for a job?” The woman made him curious, and he wanted to learn more.
Jack didn’t lift his head but continued yanking tacks from the floorboards. “Emma said she works as an assistant to a country singer.”
Hone wrinkled his nose. “Country? Broken hearts and such?”
“Yeah, I don’t get the appeal either.”
“Cassie is more intriguing by the minute.”
Jack lifted his head, his jaw clenched. “Don’t mess with her, Hone. She’s like Emma. A keeper. She’s not for a man like you.”
Hone battened down his irritation, confining himself to a jerk of his chin. He pulled out his phone to call Auntie June, the matriarch dragon of the Auckland tribe and businesswoman with property. “You know me. I don’t do permanent. I have rules.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jack went back to ripping up tacks. “As long as you stick to your bloody rules with Cassie.”