Legally Addicted - By Lena Dowling Page 0,22

she couldn’t remember the last time she had played nicely. She only knew how to play one way, and that was to survive and, if at all possible, to win.

Brad’s beach house was number forty-six. Thirty-eight through forty-four were huge modern architectural statements, bordered by six foot high security fences; the sort of houses Georgia had been expecting. Stopping outside number forty-six, however, she fumbled in the glove compartment to recheck the address that Miriam had written on a post-it note.

This couldn’t be it.

A single storeyed brick and plaster bungalow, it was flanked by a low picket style fence in the front, and a well-used access strip to the beach ran down the left side. Only the right hand boundary was demarcated by a high fence separating it from its neighbour, a massive faux Mediterranean style white monolith of a mansion to the right.

She checked again. Number forty-six was right. This was it.

Unsure what to wear to a Spencer ‘barbeque’, and not wanting to look shabby or be outdone by Brad’s date, she had gone for a flattering black halter neck cotton dress with a string of pearls. She might have to turn up single, but that didn’t mean she had to look pitiable into the bargain, but now, looking at the modest home, she unhooked the pearls and threw them into the glove box beside the post-it.

With its absolute beachfront position, the block of land would have been worth a six figure sum on its own, but the house was completely out of place amongst its neighbours. Walking up to the front door, which was resplendent with a patch of peeling paint, the real estate speak phrase of ‘do up or demolish’ came to mind. Georgia put down the overnight bag she had packed, took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

‘Glad you could make it, Georgia, welcome to my beach hut,’ Brad said unselfconsciously, after he had wrenched the sticking door to get it open past halfway.

He hugged her and gave her two polite air kisses. The sensation of being pressed against his hard body coaxed hers into life. Turning her head sideways to avoid taking a face plant right into his chest, she caught a whiff of his all too familiar cologne. The scent of freshly cut sapling came with a memory that almost knocked her feet out from under her, and she resisted the urge to grasp on to him for support.

Mercifully, he released her to take the overnight bag and she stepped back before her hormones fired up any more and drove her headlong into trouble.

Feminine laughter emanated from a room behind them, reminding her that they were not alone, and she shook herself out of the last of her little daydream.

He’s out of bounds, and anyway he’s with someone, remember?

Brad looked back over his shoulder.

‘The Daytons and Llewellyns are already here, but let me show you to your room first.’

In contrast to the scruffy exterior, the inside of the house had been redecorated in a modern beach house aesthetic. Bare boards and whitewashed walls started in the hallway and continued into the bedroom. The retro furniture had been stripped back to natural wood and the bed was a minimalist slat bed. Nothing about the style of the beach house meshed with what she had seen of the rich decoration in Brad’s penthouse.

‘No ensuites, I’m afraid, but there are two bathrooms.’

Brad pointed to a pile of fluffy towels at the end of the bed.

He set down her small suitcase, and she noticed the faded t-shirt, moulded to his toned abdominals, was fraying at the neck and around the sleeves. His lean powerful legs were partially covered by long board shorts, stopping just above the knee, which likewise sported a couple of small holes from wear.

Ditching the pearls had been the right move.

‘You look lovely by the way, Georgia.’

‘Thanks,’ she said, trying to will the heat that was marching up the back of her neck to pivot right back on around and down again. It wasn’t so much the compliment that was making her blush as it was the awkwardness of standing beside a bed with Brad, her mind flooding with memories of the last time they had been in a bedroom together. She looked around the room searching for something to make a neutral comment about, a picture, a lamp, anything, but before she could come up with something to say, Brad motioned for her to follow him back out into the hallway.

‘The others