The CEO(24)

*

Callum stood transfixed. Ava’s hair was splayed out on the grass and the sheer joyous abandon in her expression was as unfamiliar to him as she was. Her T-shirt had hitched and twisted, and between its hem and the band of her denim shorts there was a glimpse of her stomach, tanned and smooth. She’d lost her shoes somewhere and his study of her calves and her feet led to bright blue painted toenails.

In an instant, the grass became his sheets and Ava was naked in his imagination.

What the fuck? The thought of what he wanted to do had his head spinning.

He wanted her. He wanted to lay his body on hers and kiss her senseless. And then he wanted to get her naked and make love to her right here, in the sun in the private gardens where only the birds could see. He wanted to take her breasts in his hands and roll his thumbs over her nipples, making them stiff before taking them in his mouth, sucking them up, tight and wet. And he wanted to drive her crazy with need for him, make her come with his tongue and his mouth and his fingers, until she was calling his name, breathless and aching for him. He wanted to be inside her. So damn much.

Callum raked a hand through his hair and dragged his eyes from her. He looked up into the canopy of trees, tried to listen to the yellow-tailed black cockatoos and the galahs and the mynas, which he knew lived in this garden. But all he could hear was his own voice in his head: You want to fuck Ava the Terrible?

He’d been single way too long.

When she propped up her knees and turned her head, giving him a smile that he could see from across the garden, something slammed in his chest. She flipped over and lay on her stomach, her elbows on the grass and her chin in her hands. Her hair was tousled around her shoulders and when she aimed that beaming smile in his direction, Callum had to remind himself of one very important thing.

She was Lulu’s sister.

He took those final few steps to her side and looked down. He hesitated, then held out a hand. ‘C’mon.’ His voice sounded gruff, even to him.

Ava reached for his hand and let herself be pulled to standing. Close.

‘I want to show you something,’ he said, making sure to let go of her fingers as soon as she was on firm ground.

*

They strolled across the rolling lawns, back to the house, taking the stone steps to the house slowly and languidly. When they entered the magnificent entrance hall of The Meadows and walked across the shining parquetry floor, so glossy their reflections could almost be seen in it, Ava’s lips parted in awe.

‘Oh, wow,’ she whispered and stopped. He watched as Ava took in the ornate ceilings, the marble-topped table in the middle of the room and the four-foot-high glass vase filled with some kind of white flowers.

‘Those delphiniums are stunning.’ She turned back to him with eyes swimming with happy tears, her fingers clasped together in pure delight. ‘Are they from the garden?’

‘Probably.’

‘I can’t believe you grew up here,’ she said in wonder.

Callum nodded, and for the first time with Ava, he didn’t feel as if he should apologise for it. This house was part of his history, his family. Pity it wouldn’t be part of his future.

The sound of heels on the wooden floor drew their attention. ‘Good morning, Callum.’

‘Daphne. Good morning.’ Callum crossed the entrance hall and held out his arms to hug his father’s housekeeper. As he enveloped her, she sniffed against his shirt. Daphne smelled of lavender—she always had—and when she let go, he kissed her on both cheeks.

‘I’m sorry again about your father.’ She pulled a tissue from inside her sleeve and dabbed her eyes.

‘Daph, may I introduce you to Ava.’ He looked back over his shoulder and with a nod of his head, urged Ava to come towards him. ‘Ava’s landscaping my gardens.’

‘It’s lovely to meet you, Daphne,’ Ava said, extending a hand.

Daphne squeezed her hand politely and firmly. ‘And you.’

Callum glanced at Ava. ‘Daphne’s the rock that held this house together for twenty years.’

Daphne looked very pleased at the description and dabbed her eyes again. ‘Can I offer you a cup of tea?’

‘I’d love one,’ Callum replied with a warm squeeze about the older woman’s shoulders. ‘And please, tell me you have cinnamon cake.’

‘First thing I baked when you called to say you were coming. Come back to the kitchen.’

She led the way through the dramatic archway of the centre hall to the left. The kitchen had been his favourite place when he was a child and when they entered the room, memories came flooding back to Callum. When he was young, he’d never paid much attention to the details of this kitchen, except for what he could find to feed his rapacious teenage hunger, but looking at it now, he felt a pang of envy. It boasted two catering ovens, a commercial fridge and acres of stone benchtops. To the side, there was a walk-in pantry (Cooper had hidden in there once and made himself sick on Anzac biscuits), which had once been filled with all the foodstuffs necessary to feed the Malone family and entertain hundreds of people at glittering parties. Callum guessed the myriad shelves would be empty now.