Kiss It Better Read Online Free PDF Page A

a couple of shaded patches. She stubbed her toe and swore.
    Behind her, in the car park, Theo’s motorbike started up. It sounded impatient and demanding. Powerful. A challenge, like its rider.
    A responsive hum surged through her veins, although she tried to deny it. The wall of ice she’d regretted was gone, shattered by Theo’s blows: Leighton exposed as a thief, Aunt Gabby in tears, and JayBay and all it meant to them about to be torn away.
    Already torn away. Leighton had ripped the heart out of JayBay — its love and trust — and now Mick would sell its shell to Theo.
    Theo was a businessman. He wouldn’t have the time or inclination to work through the JayBay staff’s feeling of betrayal.
    Her hands shook as she unlatched the gate and continued through the bushland on her dad’s side of the fence. In other circumstances she’d be rushing in to heal the emotional wounds of Leighton’s fraud, but just the thought of taking on that burden had her skin prickling with panic. Her feet dragged across the tough lawn that surrounded the house. In a couple of months it would yellow, but survive the summer. She remembered summer nights, sitting on that lawn, spitting watermelon seeds into the grass and watching a cheap, transportable television. Back then everything had seemed possible.
    She paused, grieving for happier days. Simpler days when she’d expected the best from everyone and hadn’t begun to guess that she herself had limits.
    The low rumble of the motorbike halted at the front gate. Theo would have to open and close it, then navigate the curving driveway. Mick hadn’t laid a straight path from A to B, but had meandered around the few tall, century-and-more old tuart trees on the property.
    Like the factory, the house was angled to make the most of the views from the headland. But unlike the factory, it jutted out and turned corners unexpectedly to also provide sheltered nooks, places that would be protected from the strong sea winds even on the stormiest days.
    What would protect them from this storm?
    The motorbike roared up to the house. Cassie ducked under the branches of a fig tree, ran along the cement path and jumped up onto the veranda. When she rounded the corner, Theo was kicking the stand down on his motorbike. Like in most country homes, visitors arrived at the back of the house. She stared down at their guest from the vantage point of the veranda.
    There was a masculine grace in how he swung off the bike. Just like cowboys dismounted in the movies. No need to swagger because they had nothing to prove. They commanded their environment.
    Once she’d been like that; confident in her strength. Now she both resented and craved his power. She admitted her shameful need, but only to herself: there had been comfort when he’d held her in the shop. That scared her more than misbehaving hormones.
    ‘Come in.’ She unlocked the kitchen door and walked in, leaving him to follow.
    The polished floorboards were cool and smooth under her bare feet. On the left was a large table and chairs with a vase of kangaroo paws, the traditional red and green with velvety petals, from Aunt Gabby’s garden. An island bench divided it from the cooking area. To the right, an alcove with its own window had a casual, cosy feel with a long couch and a couple of armchairs. The angle of the window showed blue sky and sea. She’d spent a lot of time there over the years, both with friends and by herself, thinking about life and dreaming dreams.
    Now she was too conscious of Theo looming behind her to dream of anything. She shrugged out of the heavy coat. Too late, she realised that gave the man behind her a great view of the saggy bum of her trackies.
    Wonderful. She hitched up the pants. ‘The guest room is this way.’
    The elegance of the house design meant furnishings could be minimal. The jarrah floorboards — a regional timber, in this instance reclaimed from demolished homes and polished to enhance the red darkness