“You’d better be careful.”

Jake added, “The sun here is fierce and you’ll soon fry, with that white skin of yours.”

Sass met his eyes in the mirror. “Thanks for the warning, but I’ve come prepared for things to be pretty hot down here.”

He knew she wasn’t just talking about the sun.

“Wise,” he said. “Foreigners get burned very quickly.”

Jake thought he saw her eyebrows arch slightly, a smile of challenge flitting across her face, but it might have only been the effect of sun and shadow from the overhanging trees flashing past.

“Don’t you worry about me, Mr. Finlayson. I can take care of myself.”

Dear Reader,

This book was conceived in friendship. I grew up in Zimbabwe with my two best friends. We laughed and squabbled and shared all through our childhood and teenage years. Now one lives in Houston, the other in Tulsa and I’m in New Zealand.

I want to write books that link our lives. This story is the first of hopefully many where Americans and Kiwis meet and fall in love—and encounter many obstacles, misunderstandings and adventures along the way.

Having always been a fan of Westerns, visiting Texas was a dream come true, and I was sure I could detect cowboy DNA in those long-legged men and women with their slow, lilting voices. I was especially touched by Texan warmth and generosity. Sass, my heroine, has the same mixture of intelligence, Southern charm and underlying resilience that I encountered there.

Sparks often fly when people from different countries meet. It’s not always comfortable, but it is always vivid. I wanted to capture that flare when Sass first confronts Jake, a big wave surfer and typically laconic Kiwi male. Going to another country is also unbalancing and it’s good for my headstrong heroine to have her world tilted—especially as she’s busy turning Jake’s completely upside down.

I had lots of fun writing this U.S./N.Z. book—checking out what makes us different, what makes us the same. I hope you enjoy reading it.

Zana Bell

P.S. I love to hear from readers, so visit me at

www.zanabell.com.

P.P.S. And yes, N.Z. truly is fairy-tale beautiful. Even after living here for many years, it still takes my breath away.

Tempting the Negotiator
Zana Bell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Zana Bell was born and raised in Zimbabwe, which she left in her early twenties in search of adventure. Her travels ended abruptly a few years later when she came to New Zealand, fell in love with a Kiwi and stayed. The daughter of British parents and the mother of Kiwi children, she delights in the misunderstandings, laughter and insights that occur when nationalities and cultures mix. She lives with a mountain at her back and a harbor before her, a constant source of joy.

To Geoff, Zoe, Tayga and Whanau

With thanks to the Whangarei branches of the New Zealand Ornithological Society and Department of Conservation for giving me their time and support regarding the fairy tern.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER ONE

TRYING TO IGNORE the high thrum of the airplane engine, Sass leaned back against her seat and shut her eyes. She’d forced her shoulders into a semblance of relaxation but her hands remained clenched in her lap. Only another ten minutes.

“Feeling sick?”

Sass opened her eyes and looked into the sympathetic face of the woman across the tiny aisle. She tried to smile.

“I don’t like flying too much.”

Sass Walker was a terra firma kinda gal. She liked to feel the earth beneath her feet, preferably with a comforting layer of asphalt. She also liked maps and lists. Fine print was her forte, which made her great at her job. She liked order and control. Especially control. And right now this tin can of an airplane didn’t feel at all controlled. Neither did her life.

The woman smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s really very safe.”

The six-seater sure didn’t feel it. Sass bet that if she punched the side, her fist would go right through.

“Besides, we’re nearly there,” the woman continued. “See, there’s the harbor coming into view right now.”

Every one of the six passengers had a window seat, and Sass forced herself to look out. Most people, she knew, would have been spellbound by the generous antipodean harbor surrounded by shaggy green mountains, but she was horribly jet-lagged and still smarting from life’s unfairness.

“American?”

Sass nodded. She saw the woman’s gaze travel down her caramel Prada suit to her black Christian Louboutin pumps with their trademark red soles.

“I know who you are! You’re the lawyer come to set up the tourist resort in Aroha Bay.”

The heavy-jowled man diagonally in front of Sass spun around. “Come to destroy the bay, more like!”

“Oh, come off it, Reg, the town could do with a boost to its economy and you know it.”

Inwardly Sass groaned. It was starting already, the dissidence she was here to calm. Kurt the Incompetent had ballsed up big-time, rushing in with multimillion-dollar schemes without consultation, without checking the facts, and now she’d been sent in to clean up the mess. And while she was exiled here at the Back-of-Beyond at the bottom of the world, Kurt would be smarming his way into the promotion she’d been killing herself with eighty-hour weeks, years on end, to win. All her frustration, her fury, now turned on New Zealand, though Sass was careful to smile.

“I’m just here to listen to what all you folks have to say. My company is concerned to discover there’s local opposition to what they thought would be a wonderful business opportunity for Whangarimu.”

“And it is!” the woman agreed.

The man scowled. “We don’t need Americans coming in and taking over. It’s a bloody disgrace. Did you see the plans? Amazon ruins in the middle of New Zealand forests? What did he call it—Jungle Paradise? Utter tosh.”

The man had a point. Sass herself had been speechless when Kurt had unveiled his brainchild back in New York. Paradise Resorts prided itself on its theme-based holiday locations, and Kurt had seen the New Zealand forest as the perfect setting for a Mayan complex topped by a large “temple” casino.

The plane’s shrill engine changed tone as it began its descent. Sass was deeply relieved to see the airport below; grateful not to have to continue the discussion any longer, grateful that this interminable trip of nearly thirty hours was over. She craved the silence of a hotel room, a hot shower and a glass of chilled white wine. Most of all she craved a cigarette.

Touchdown was soft, and within seconds the pilot had flung open the door of the plane and lowered the stairs.

“Welcome to Whangarimu!”

Knees wobbly, she stepped out of the plane. The brilliant late afternoon sunlight was like a slap in the face. She walked across the small runway toward a one-level building she assumed was the airport. Several people were gathered, waiting to greet the arrivals, and she searched for someone holding up a card with her name on it, Kurt having assured her she’d be met. Nada. Great, just great. She began to make her way to the counter when a hand on her arm waylaid her.

“Sass Walker?”

She didn’t know who she’d been expecting, but certainly hadn’t pictured a man who could tower over her, even when she was wearing her highest heels. She also hadn’t expected such breadth of shoulders under his faded T-shirt or the green eyes, so startling against the tanned face.

“Yes?”

“I’m Jake Finlayson.”

Surprised and very wary, she asked, “As in one of the Finlayson brothers spearheading the protests?”

“That’s right.”

She took in his battered surf shorts, his tawny, salt-encrusted curls. His long legs. He must be the one who’d upended the scale model Kurt had presented at a town meeting three weeks earlier. The one who’d thrown Kurt out of the hall. The reason she’d been sent in Kurt’s place.

“An act of lunacy,” Kurt had explained to The Boys. “This Finlayson is a deadbeat surfer who rents a house on Aroha Beach. Nothing to worry about, he’s a nobody.”

Though it was amazing how quickly this nobody and his lawyer brother had whipped together enough ecological concerns to keep Paradise Resorts tied up in legal battles for months if not years. Was this guy here to bundle her back onto the airplane?

“I’m here to take you to your accommodation.”

His voice betrayed no emotion, but he radiated hostility, and Sass was damned if she was going anywhere with a man who’d threatened to emasculate her colleague—however much he deserved it.

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Finlayson,” she said brightly, “but don’t you worry, I can manage by myself. If you tell me the name of my hotel, I’ll take a cab.”

The Kiwi raised one eyebrow. “Hotel? We were informed that you were insistent on staying out at Aroha Bay, despite the lack of facilities. Of course, seeing as your company owns the land now, you are entitled to be there.”

Kurt! He was really out to get her on this trip. Already he’d failed to give her the files, with apologies for a crashed computer. He’d briefed her quickly, of course, but she knew he’d been holding out on her. He wasn’t about to let her succeed where he’d failed.

Sass smiled tautly. “Seems like wires got crossed somewhere over the Pacific, Mr. Finlayson, but hey, no problem. I’ll book into whichever hotel has a vacancy.”

“Call me Jake. We don’t stand on ceremony in New Zealand. I don’t see what the problem is. Branston,” he said, making the name sound like a swearword, “was explicit that you would be staying in the sleep-out at my house. It’s right on the beach where you want to build your resort. He said you were very keen on getting the full ambience of the place.”

Sarcasm and accusation were equally balanced. For a second Sass could only stare as the full extent of Kurt’s perfidy dawned on her. He was sending her straight into the lion’s den. Looking up at the implacable face in front of her, Sass saw that Kurt had, at the same time, revenged himself on his enemy, too. As low-down, dirty tricks went, it was pretty inspired.

Jake frowned. “Look, if you’ve changed your mind—”

“No, not at all.”

She couldn’t afford to seem indecisive, would have to bluff through for the moment, the best she could. Just wait till she got her hands on that conniving son of a bitch, though.

“That’s fine,” she added. “Of course it is. Great. Now, where’s the baggage claim?”

“It’s in the shed out back. I’ll take you.”

He led her around the tiny airport building to a shed where, in the gloom, she saw the other passengers sorting through the pile of luggage on a trolley.

“Which one’s yours?” he asked. She pointed and he swung the large suitcase off easily. “Good, follow me.”

“Wait. There’s also that one, and that bag, too.”

He didn’t need to say anything; his expression said it all as he scooped up her other luggage. Well, she thought defensively, who knew how long she was going to be here? Also, not knowing what setup she was coming to, she’d packed outfits to suit every occasion. He didn’t need to look like that!

Her current outfit, however, didn’t fit this occasion. Jake led her to an open-topped Jeep where a large dog of indeterminate lineage presided in the front seat, tongue hanging out with the heat. Jake walked to the back of the vehicle, shifted a surfboard to one side and began throwing her suitcases in. Exhausted and bad-tempered as she was, Sass couldn’t help noticing his easy athleticism. In another situation she might have found him attractive, sexy even, in a rumpled, outdoor man kinda way. But Sass never mixed business and pleasure. Besides, this guy was dangerous.

“I can move Gerty to the backseat if you like, but she leaves a shocking mess of hairs behind her. You might not want to get them on your clothes. It’s your call.”

Again, there was nothing overtly hostile in his manner, but Sass knew he resented her almost as much as she resented this whole damned country.

“No problem, I’ll take the backseat.”

It was a challenge. Sass pulled her tight skirt halfway up her thighs to scramble in. She wished she hadn’t changed in Auckland, but it was her creed never to be seen tousled or crumpled. Her immaculate appearance was one of her strongest weapons—and defenses.

Jake swung himself into the front seat and adjusted the rearview mirror slightly. He surveyed her, his eyes cool, green and unwavering, like a knight staring through the visor of his helmet. Yet there were laughter lines, too. As she wriggled, trying to pull her skirt down to her knees, Sass wondered what he looked like when he smiled. The backseat was scorching and the seat belt metal burned as she buckled herself in. Her eyes were scratchy from the long flight and she narrowed them against the glare. Damned sunglasses were in her other bag.

In silence, they drove out of the airport and came almost immediately to a T-junction where the left-hand sign read, Whangarimu City Centre and the right-hand sign read, Whangarimu Heads. They turned right.

JAKE WATCHED HER PROFILE as she took in the scenery, and wondered how it would strike a stranger. The road hugged the contours of the harbor, threading through the myriad bays, each rimmed by a horseshoe of modest homes and with a cluster of small yachts bobbing on the late-afternoon tide. A seagull wheeled above with its hoarse, stuttering cry, and Jake’s stomach churned at the thought of developers coming in to ruin it all. He blamed the Lord of the Rings movies for alerting developers from all over the world to the beauty of New Zealand. Locals didn’t stand a chance against foreign currency, and coastal properties advertised on the Internet were now being snapped up at insane prices. That American braggart had bought Aroha Bay for a few million dollars in one brief visit. Money no object. People, place, nature of no concern. Well, Jake had got rid of him but it seemed the Americans were using a different sort of attack now. Easier on the eye, but this lady gave nothing away.

“Those are nice,” Sass said, nodding at the huge, ancient trees that reached sprawling, gnarled branches out over the water’s edge. Her accent was warm and made him think absurdly of honeysuckle and soft summer nights.

“They’re phutukawa. We call them our Christmas tree because they have red flowers in December.”

“They’re really something.” Her hand was halfway to her handbag. “Mind if I smoke?”

“I do, actually. I hate the smell of smoke in the car.”

Their eyes locked. The wind was whipping her long hair about her head, and the smell of dog punctuated the air. He knew she knew he was just being contrary.

“No problem,” she said, and sat back, breaking eye contact and looking out over the water as though she didn’t give a damn. It gave him a chance to examine her. Nobody should look that good after a thirty-hour flight. Her eyes were so blue, he wondered if she wore colored contact lenses. She had delicate bones, white-blond hair and a fair complexion.

“You’d better be careful,” he said. “The sun here is fierce and you’ll soon fry with that white skin of yours.”

Her eyes met his. “Thanks for the warning, but I’ve come prepared for things to be pretty hot down here.”

He knew she wasn’t talking about the sun.

“Wise,” he said. “Foreigners get burned very quickly.”

Jake thought he saw her eyebrows arch slightly, a smile of challenge flitting across her face, but it might only have been the effect of sun and shadow from the overhanging trees flashing past.

“Don’t you worry about me, Mr. Finlayson. I can take care of myself.”

With that, she captured her flying hair and somehow twisted it into a knot, untidy but tamed.

“Jake,” he corrected. “Where’s your name come from? I’ve never met a Sass before.”

“It’s a nickname from Sasha.”

“As in sassy?” he hazarded.

She laughed. “No, as in pain in the proverbial. I had two younger brothers who resented their bossy older sister. Our mom didn’t allow cussing.”

Their gazes met again. For a second he saw humor glimmer in her eyes, then Jake looked back at the road. He wasn’t about to start liking her—Miss Pain-in-the.

They fell silent, and instead of trying for more lame conversation, he switched on the stereo, letting the Chili Peppers take them down the length of the harbor. Just as they were about to swing onto the dirt road leading to Aroha Bay, she called out, “Stop.”

It sounded like “Staap.” Jake pulled over and waited as the lawyer took stock. It was, he resentfully acknowledged, an idyllic location for a resort. The Jeep sat on the top of a long, narrow ridge that flattened and rounded into a small peninsula, ending in a long sand spit. The view was almost three-sixty, looking down the harbor on the right-hand side and over the open ocean on the left. It would suit all types of holiday-makers. Aroha Bay below them was flat and tranquil, offering safe swimming all year round. On the seaward side, waves unfurled with lazy uniformity right along the coast. On both sides phutukawa clung to the cliff faces while flax bushes fanned the sands. The only sign of habitation was his dilapidated house near the beach. Jake wondered what Sass saw—the bay as it was now or some future travesty of it in her head.

“Aroha Bay is a pretty name. What does it mean?”

“Aroha is the Mori word for love.” He sounded curt, but couldn’t help it.

She just nodded and asked, “What’s that?” pointing to where the ridge ended in a hill with grassy terraces.

“The p—an old Mori fortification. Mori used to have p up and down the coast, but this one is particularly significant.”

“Oh?” It was hard to read her expression. “Kurt never mentioned it.”

“He was too busy finding out where the nearest nightclub is.”

Jake saw Sass give a faint, disparaging smile—no love lost between those two, then—and wondered why the p site had caught her attention. Most visitors barely noticed it.

“Shall we go?” he asked at length.

She drew her eyes away, clearly pulling her thoughts back to the present. “Sure.”

Jake spun the wheels a little as he took off, and ground the gears as they drove the last kilometer down the steep, rutted track to the bay. Bringing the enemy right into the heart of paradise.

CHAPTER TWO

SASS’S HEART SANK as they drew up in a whirl of dust between a run-down old house and what appeared to be a shed. It was nothing like the hotel room she’d been hoping for.

“This is the sleep-out,” said Jake, leaping from the Jeep and waving at the shed. “You’ll be comfortable here, I hope.”

There was not an ounce of sincerity in what he said. Wordlessly, Sass wriggled out of the backseat and dropped onto her heels, which immediately embedded themselves in the dusty driveway. Jake hauled out her bags and led her up the steps onto the deck of the “sleep-out” and into the room.

It might have been a shed once, but now its walls were painted a pale yellow that echoed the late-afternoon sun. The front wall had been replaced with glass doors that overlooked the grassy reaches of the garden to the sun-spangled bay beyond. The view was a million bucks, but the furniture had a knock-kneed look. There were no drapes at the windows. The place was big but smelled musty.

“Here’s the bathroom,” he said, opening a door to the side. “You can use the house’s kitchen. I was going to move some of the boys out here but thought you’d prefer to have some privacy with five blokes around.”

“Five!”

He smiled at her shock. “It’s a bit of a bad boys’ home—not that the kids are bad as such, just a little wild. They’re with me for six months as an experiment in early intervention.”

His tone implied that a lawyer might not understand the concept, but she glanced at him in surprise. Jake didn’t look like a social worker. In fact, he seemed a little wild himself with his tangle of tawny curls. There was an exotic slant to his high cheekbones and a honey tone to his deep tan. His legs were long and muscular—not an office worker, she decided. The battered shorts were, of course, another clue.

She looked around. “Can I get on the Internet here?”

Jake shook his head. “Sorry, I’ve never bothered getting it. Cell phones are pretty useless, too, most of the time. Reception is patchy. You can get all that in Whangarimu, though. Come on, I’ll show you the house. Like a cup of tea?”

“I’d love a coffee if that’s okay.”

“American. Of course.”

Sass was impressed. There was nothing in his tone, but she’d just been insulted. Silently, she followed him to the house, her heels sinking into the shaggy lawn.

The building had excellent bones, with a wood exterior and deep veranda. Going inside, however, was like walking into Man Zone. The lounge was beautiful, with French doors and a generous windowseat in the eastern wall, but it was cluttered with sagging furniture and DVDs and PlayStation games. A large television and Xbox dominated one corner. The dining room had a huge table sadly in need of a polish and buried in books and papers.

In the kitchen, cupboards hung open, dishes were piled in the sink. The breakfast things were on the table. For a brief, horrible moment Sass flashed back to the chaos of the trailer home she’d grown up in, a far cry from the immaculate order she surrounded herself with these days.

“Place is a bit of a tip, I’m afraid,” Jake said, not sounding the least apologetic. “Now, coffee, did you say?”

She looked around for his coffee machine as he put the kettle on. Then she watched as he opened a tin of instant, chipped at it for a second—God, how old was it?—then heaped a teaspoon of lumps into what she was relieved to see appeared to be a clean mug.

“Where are the kids now?”

“Should be back from school any minute, but they won’t stop to talk—the waves are too good. They’re all mad keen surfers. That’s why they’re with me. They’re preparing for the nationals and this location is unbeatable. Milk? No—just black? There you are, pull up a chair if you like.”

“No thanks, I’ll take the coffee over to the sh—sleep-out?—and start settling in if you don’t mind.”

“Suit yourself. Dinner around eight okay for you?”

She shook her head and put on a smile. “That’s kind, but no thanks. I’m beat. I’d like to have an early night.”

It was true she felt light-headed with exhaustion, but there was also no way she was going to eat anything out of that kitchen till she’d had time to fumigate the house. Coffee mug in hand, she began heading out, her system singing in anticipation of a cigarette.

“One more thing. This is a smoke-free zone. Several of the boys have quit. I’m sure you understand.”

She turned to look at him. He looked back.

“Sure,” she said slowly, her fingers tightening on the mug. “I understand.”

Back in her quarters she kicked off her heels with vehemence, opened her bag and for a second gazed longingly at her cigarettes. Later, when they were all eating dinner, she would sneak one behind the sleep-out. From under her cigarettes she pulled out her BlackBerry. Sure enough, no reception. Great. The toughest challenge of her career and here she was, stuck in the remotest corner of the bottom of the world with no line out.

Sass was good at her job, damned good. Some called her The Great Persuader, others The Great Manipulator. Whichever, she was the original fix-it gal. But she’d had to work twice as hard and be three times better than any male colleague just to be noticed. For seven years, Sass had given her life to her job, her sole goal being to one day make senior partner, aka join The Boys who ran Paradise Resorts. Her break had finally come last week when she’d been summonsed to Mr. Brixby’s office.

For the first time since she’d started at the company, he’d led her to the sofas in the corner instead of consulting over his desk. They’d sat and he’d looked her right in the eye.

“Sass, we are sending you to New Zealand. I’ll be honest with you. Profits are down and the company desperately needs the injection from a new resort. Something fresh. I know,” he said, raising his hand as Sass went to speak, “Branston’s idea is fanciful. But we need something that will make people sit up, take note. We need a new direction and we’re all counting on you to make it work. Will you do this for us, Sass?”

And Sass, contrary to her usual thoroughness in checking out details beforehand, had looked back into those shrewd eyes and said, “Why of course, Mr. Brixby.”

He’d even patted her hand. “I knew we could rely on you. Your level thinking and charm might make all the difference.”

He didn’t say outright that this might secure her place with The Boys in the vacancy McKenna’s retirement had left, but the way he’d said it… Her heart had leaped and his words had continued to warm and sustain her right up until she’d seen Kurt’s smirk. Then she’d realized he believed she stood no chance at all, and that she’d take the rap for his enormous blunders. Worse, while she was trapped in this black hole, he’d be right there, ingratiating himself with The Boys.

Unable to stand being inside, she wandered out, down the steps of the deck toward the beach. Walking barefoot on grass brought back memories of racing late to school, playing catch…and it felt strangely good. She drifted to the ragged edge of the lawn and down the bank onto the sand. That felt good, too. She wrapped her fingers around her mug of coffee, took a sip, then grimaced. That was another thing she needed. Already she was making a shopping list in her mind.

The water was wonderful and she stood ankle-deep, feeling her frustrations ebb into the sea. The sun was gentler now, sinking low in the sky, and she raised her face to it. She hadn’t just stood, enjoying the feeling of sun and water, for who knew how long. She breathed in deeply, eyes closed, the salty tang carrying the whisper of romance and exotica.

Her eyes snapped open. She was most certainly not here on holiday, and she pulled her thoughts back to the ridge behind her, with its p. Was that why Kurt had been so happy to off-load this deal onto her? What a mess. She’d have to watch her step closely if she was going to succeed.

Her host’s casual appearance didn’t deceive her. She’d seen the stubborn lines around his mouth, had noted the pugilistic set of his jaw. In the past Jake would have been in the front line of battle; with his height and reckless determination he would have led the men behind him and intimidated those he faced. Well, she wasn’t about to be intimidated. All the same, she needed to tread very carefully. If he caught one whiff of what she knew, then the deal—and her whole future—would be toast!

CHAPTER THREE

“LAST MAN HOME MAKES breakfast,” yelled Brad as he leaped down the hill from the ridge. The rest of the boys broke into a run, chasing him with whoops and threats, their surfboards bouncing and swinging as they raced.

Jake let them go, glad to have this moment to himself. Dawn had broken while they were out on the water, turning the waves pink and yellow, and now he breathed in, enjoying the soft salt tang. The sky was translucent blue and the harbor stretched out in tranquil high tide. It was unthinkable that this early morning peace and beauty, unchanged for a thousand years, should now be threatened.

The boys, still whooping, had disappeared around the corner of the house when, inexplicably, their cries died midyell. Curious, Jake loped down the steep driveway, and as he rounded the house, saw what had silenced them. Sass, in a black swimsuit, had emerged from the sea and was making her way slowly up the beach toward them. Brad whistled under his breath; Paul gulped. The twins blushed red and exchanged abashed, sideways grins. Jake couldn’t blame them. Though her swimsuit was modestly cut, it molded to her. Clearly, they grew them tall and lithe in Texas, with long legs that could—Jake swiftly blocked the highly inappropriate thoughts that crowded into his mind. An understandable reaction, he told himself. The natural response of a year’s self-enforced celibacy.

She smiled, but Jake was surprised to see her pause as though unsure, shy even, as she eyed the lineup of young males.

“Hey, you must be the gang Jake spoke of.”

“Yeah,” said Jake, collecting himself. “The lanky one is Paul, the twins Mike and Mark—don’t worry if you can’t tell them apart, no one can—and Brad’s the one with his tongue hanging out.”

Brad threw him a look as he shifted his board to his other arm and held out a hand. “Pleased to meet you.” His formal manner, however, was undermined by the thoughts so clearly written all over his adolescent face.

Sass moved forward and Paul swallowed again as she shook Brad’s hand. “I’m Sass. Pleased to meet y’all.”

Then she turned to shake the other boys’hands, spell-binding each in turn with her smile, which, Jake had to grudgingly admit, was friendly and in no way playing up the obvious effect she was having on them all.

“Nice swim?” he asked.

“Yes, the water was lovely. I woke early—jet lag I guess—and it looked so inviting I couldn’t resist. How was the surf?” Her Southern voice floated lazy and warm, complementing the early morning air.

“It was awesome! Do you surf?” Brad asked.

She shook her head. “I almost never went to the sea when I was a child, and I live in New York now. Closest I’ve ever got has been watching First Break.”

“We can teach you, can’t we, Jake?”

But Sass just smiled. “I don’t think so, thanks. I’m a flat water gal. But I’d sure like to see you in action sometime.”

“We need some action now. Showers and breakfast pronto.” Jake sounded more abrupt than he’d intended, but seeing her bewitch his boys, he felt absurdly betrayed. Only last night they’d all been so indignant at the mere thought of a New York lawyer. “We’re going into town soon and if you aren’t ready by the time we leave, you’ll have to stay home, clean the house and miss out on the paintball.”

The threat worked. In seconds the boys said hasty farewells, dropped their boards and disappeared into the house, forming a bottleneck at the door as they fought to be first to the shower. Jake shook his head, but Sass laughed. “They remind me of my brothers.”

He had forgotten she’d mentioned having brothers. He’d imagined she must have sprung fully grown from some Mattel factory, a perfect Barbie. “I hope they weren’t like that disreputable horde.”

Sass’s face was unreadable—no wonder she was a hotshot lawyer. “Mmm,” was all she said before asking, “Am I going to meet your brother today?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind working on a Saturday.”

“On the contrary, I’m really looking forward to it.”

Jake just bet she was—looking forward to racing things through, just like that Branston bastard had.

“Fine, I’ll drive you in. What time suits you?”

“The earlier, the better. We’ve a lot to get through.”

Jake had never known anyone could sound so brisk and businesslike in clinging Lycra. He saw the fine hairs on her arms rise in the early morning breeze.

“You’d better hop into a shower yourself. The sleep-out has its own tank, so you’ll have plenty of hot water. How about we meet in an hour—does that give you enough time?”

“More than enough, thank you.” Her voice was still polite, but had cooled a few degrees with the boys’ departure.

“Help yourself to breakfast, as well,” he added.

“Thanks, but I usually skip it. I’ll see you in an hour.”

SASS CHOSE HER OUTFIT with care. No heels, she realized now. No suits. Well, that eliminated half her luggage. No one had warned her of just how informal these Kiwis were, and she certainly didn’t want to put their backs up. At the same time she wanted to make sure they knew she wasn’t a pushover, either. In the end she opted for black trousers and a soft white shirt she’d hung up the night before, along with several other options. It was still a little crumpled, but she had absolutely no intention of letting Jake see her iron.

Makeup and hair also required thought. She kept the former to a minimum, just enough to enhance her eyes and lose that soft, girlie look she despised. She glossed her lips with a subtle no-nonsense red, then tied her hair back into a French roll. Finally, she selected a pair of black pumps with unmistakable Italian chic that only had a slight heel.

It wasn’t easy to see the overall effect in the small mirror tacked to the wall, but having twisted this way and that, Sass decided it was probably good enough. Drawing in a deep breath, she ran her hands down her sides. This was it.

The first meeting was crucial. As with runners before a race, so much of the final outcome lay in the first confrontation. Her whole future hinged on this. Blow this one and she blew her shot at the top.

The unwelcome image of Kurt’s smug smile flashed through her brain, and her fingers curled into a fist. No way! How smart could these guys be, anyway?

But even as she braced herself with this tough talk, she was bothered by the image of Jake as she’d seen him half an hour earlier—with the water beading on his tanned biceps and pecs, his curls flattened from his swim but already beginning to spring up again as though refusing to be tamed. His long legs and the glimpse of flat abs, mostly hidden by the board, had done something to her stomach. She was in no mood to wonder exactly what.

Standing there, wearing only surf shorts, he’d still looked to be one of the most dangerous men she’d ever seen, despite the unexpected charm of his smile. Not that he smiled much. Well, not at her, at any rate. Good. She didn’t want to be friends, either. She wanted to allay fears, clinch the deal and get the hell out of here.

“Go get them, girl!” she told herself, although she’d never really been the cheerleader sort. Picking up her briefcase as though it were a shield, she stepped out into the sun.

THIS TIME THEY TRAVELED in a beat-up old van, with the boys sprawled in the backseats. Sass had to smile. The twins shared an iPod, with an earpiece each, while Brad was immersed in playing games on his cell phone. Paul sat right at the back, staring out the window, lost in his own world.

Sass turned to look at the stern profile beside her. “I hope your brother doesn’t mind meeting on a Saturday,” Sass said to break the awkward silence.

“Not at all. No doubt you’ll have been filled in on the major objections to the resort, but Rob thought it might be helpful to have a chat before the town meeting on Tuesday night.”

They wanted to check her out. “Sure, it’s an excellent idea. I’m keen to meet him, too. He’s a lawyer, right? Does he work for a big firm?”

Jake shook his head. The sun was streaming in his side of the car, backlighting his curls. His elbow rested on the open window and the hairs on his arm glinted gold. His eyes were very slightly narrowed, but Sass wasn’t sure if that was because of the sun. Her own sunglasses were opaque and she took advantage of this to check him out. He must have dressed up for the occasion, she concluded. The shorts had been replaced by battered jeans that sat snugly on his hips. A crumpled, short-sleeved green shirt was loosely tucked in—a concession to formality, maybe.

“Rob’s gone independent,” he said.

It figured. Sass guessed that independence would be pretty important to both Finlayson brothers.

“Brave,” she said. “Gets rid of office politics, but probably produces other challenges.”

Did the laughter lines around his eyes crinkle or was that still just the sun? “Yeah, dirty nappies for a start. Rob works from home so he and Moana can share child care.”

Her heart rose. A part-time lawyer sounded ideal. How hard could this be? Then she looked at Jake’s long jawline and uncompromising chin, and felt her heart flutter back down again. Still, she kept her tone light and easy.

“Really? It must get tricky balancing everything. Is she a lawyer, too?”

Jake shook his head again. To give the guy some credit, he seemed oblivious to how good his curls looked tossed about in the sun. If it’d been Kurt, she’d have known he was doing it for effect.

“She’s a psychologist and uses the same office for consultations. It’s amazing how they manage, but it seems to work.”

Jake and Sass fell into silence again and he flicked on the radio. A Haydn violin concerto filled the car, surprising her and drawing protests from the boys. Jake ignored them, and the muttering soon died away.

The music was turned up loud, hiding the rumbling of her stomach. She was jet-lagged and hungry, but still determined not to avail herself of Jake’s hospitality. Thank goodness she’d sneaked a cigarette before her swim.

WHANGARIMU PROVED TO BE an attractive town set at the top of the harbor, where it narrowed into a marina. Restaurants and gift shops lined the water’s edge and palm trees made it feel tropical. The center was compact, clustered with small shops that reminded Sass of towns back home before huge shopping malls had taken over. But she also saw that some frontages were nailed up and that there were a number of people just sitting around the marina, looking at the boats. She’d seen that slumped-shouldered lethargy before, in trailer parks, and wondered what the unemployment numbers were.

“Right, hop out,” Jake ordered the kids as they pulled up at a red light. “We’ll be a few hours max. I’ll text you when we’re ready to pick you up. Don’t keep me waiting.”

The boys scrambled out with hurried goodbyes, and Sass was sorry to see them go. They hadn’t eased the conversation, but their mere presence had helped her relax. Without them, the silence in the van seemed to swell.

Fortunately, it was only a few minutes later that the van drew up in front of a cottage painted a jaunty yellow with blue trim. The garden was a tumble of flowers and the overall effect was charming, except Sass wasn’t prepared to concede anything at this stage.

“We’re here,” Jake announced unnecessarily.

He ushered her through the front door and into a tiny office immediately off the hall. A man rose to greet them.

“It’s great to meet you,” he said, and actually seemed to mean it. “I’m Rob Finlayson.”

Rob was also tall, with straight hair and a kinder expression than his brother. He met her eyes and smiled warmly, but she still knew she was being appraised. His handshake was firm and Sass realized that he, like his brother, was not to be underestimated. Instinctively, she liked him.

Unfortunately. She didn’t want to like anyone. This resolve was further tested when Moana came in with a wide smile of welcome. Her skin was cinnamon-brown, her hair black and luxuriant, reaching right down her back. Mori, Sass guessed, having done her homework about New Zealand and its indigenous people. Beautiful and exotic, Moana looked as if she’d stepped out of some Hawaiian musical.

“Hi, welcome to New Zealand. Can I get you some coffee? I’ve also baked some muffins.”

The aroma of freshly ground beans had struck Sass the minute she’d walked through the door. “Black coffee and a muffin would be wonderful, thank you.”

Not risking the indignity of a growling stomach was even better.

“Two minutes,” Moana promised as she slipped away.

Sass avoided Jake’s eyes as she took the chair he proffered, and said, “Shall we get straight to business?”

As she set her briefcase on her knee and clicked open the locks she saw the guys exchange glances. Mistake! She’d forgotten time might not mean money here. You might have to put your watch forward seventeen hours upon reaching New Zealand, but it seemed you also had to dial back some years.

“Of course,” said Rob. “Would you like to put your briefcase here?” He pushed papers aside to make space for her.

“Thanks.” She drew her chair to the desk, then wished she hadn’t. It brought her closer to the brothers, and their combined height and, well, maleness made her uncomfortable. She glanced up in relief when Moana returned with a steaming mug and a plate with the muffin.

“Now, I don’t want you ganging up on our visitor. Jake, you come with me. I’ve a new painting that needs hanging and Rob has been less than no help these past two days.”

“I’ve always said you chose the wrong brother,” Jake pointed out. “Rob’s the lazy one.” Suddenly Sass saw a completely different man—one relaxed with laid-back good humor, and a wicked glint of mischief in his eye.

“She chose the best-looking one,” his brother retorted. “Besides, I did try to hang the damned thing but gave up after she changed her mind half a dozen times.” He ducked as his wife took a swipe at his head.

“Excuses, excuses, ay.” Moana exchanged a woman-to-woman look with Sass. “That’s all men really excel in.”

Sass couldn’t help smiling back, but felt off balance. This wasn’t like the business meetings she was used to.

“Right,” she said, trying to take control once more by lifting a sheaf of papers from the briefcase and passing them to Rob. “I’ve some data here that might interest you.”

“Good luck,” said Jake, though it wasn’t clear who he was speaking to. She could almost feel his body heat as he passed behind her chair and disappeared out of the room after Moana. Sass was glad to see his back. With him gone, she’d be able to concentrate.

Rob bent over the projected incomes Paradise resorts expected from their Aroha enterprise, a report that Kurt had prepared.

“You’ll see it will bring considerable amounts of money into your community,” she pointed out.

He shook his head. “These numbers seem pitched a bit high to me. Not that I’m fully conversant with the resort business, of course.”

Sass had also thought they were optimistic, but The Boys had okayed them.

“We have every faith that your beautiful country will attract huge numbers of visitors, given the right advertising. Your weak dollar will also make it affordable for families on modest incomes.”

“We try to keep a handle on tourist numbers here in New Zealand. Don’t want to spoil our clean green image with hordes tramping over the countryside.”

He smiled and she smiled back. The first clash of swords.

“Speaking of which,” he continued, “we haven’t received full information about the massive infrastructures of roads, water, sewerage, etc., you’ll need to install for a resort this size.”

“That’s all in the pipeline,” she said confidently, crossing her fingers. Kurt had been maddeningly vague. “I’ll get them to you soon.”

“Our biggest concern, however, is the fairy tern.”

“The bird. Yeah, right. I understand there are only seven birds nesting on the spit.”

“Seven is a considerable number when the bird is listed as severely endangered.” Rob’s voice had acquired an edge.

“Please believe me my company has no desire whatsoever to hasten this bird’s demise.” Sass was at her most sincere. “We’ve looked into options to save it and already have several we’d like to put to you.”

“We need Jake for that. He’s the expert on the fairy tern. He’s writing a book about them.”

“Really?” It was hard to think of Action Man reading a book, let alone writing one. She really didn’t like the way the guy kept knocking her off-kilter. “Well, as he’s not here, let’s get back to the resort development.” She handed Rob another piece of paper. “You will see here we’ll be generating a lot of jobs for the community.”

And so the meeting continued for another twenty minutes, with Sass and Rob circling each other as only civilized people locked in legal combat can. By the end, each had developed a healthy respect for the other, but Rob surprised her when he pushed all the papers aside and leaned forward, hands clasped and looked into her eyes. “Sass, would you do one thing for us?”

“I’ll try,” she said, instantly wary.

“You say you’ve come to listen, not to steamroll over us. That’s a relief and we’d appreciate it if you’d take time to become acquainted with the community and Aroha Bay. Will you do that? We have so much riding on it all.”

Me, too, buddy, she thought. Me, too.

Her professional smile remained bright. “Sure, I’ll be happy to. In fact, I was going to ask, do you have any books about the area? I’d be interested to learn more about the layout of the land and even some of its history. It all helps to get a better picture.”

Rob beamed, clearly delighted by her interest. “Yeah, I’ve got a couple of excellent ones that I’d be delighted to lend you, as a matter of fact.”

“Great. I also want to meet with the—” Sass broke off as she flipped through some papers “—the Aroha Bay Organization for Resort Development, the ABORD Committee. I believe they are all for the resort.”

Rob grimaced.

“Yeah, well, I’m here to listen to all sides,” she continued, “before I make my recommendations. My report to the company will of course be confidential, because in the end the final decision rests with them. Whatever conclusions I come to, they’ll be made with due consideration and in everyone’s best interests.”

As those words slipped out, she experienced a small twinge of conscience. The bottom line was she’d been sent to get these guys to not only accept the resort, but in the end to be glad about it, thus saving her company time and money in court.

“Fair enough.” Rob’s smile had all the sincerity hers lacked. “Jake will show you around, then.”

Her smile froze. “No need. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“We wouldn’t hear of it! New Zealand is not easy to get around in without a car, and there’s no better guide than Jake. He knows the land like the back of his hand, plus he can tell you about the birds. He’s nuts about them. You guys’ll get along well, I know you will.”

She smiled again, but inwardly she cursed.

“We can begin at once,” Rob continued. “We’re taking Jake’s boys to play paintball this afternoon. It’ll be the perfect opportunity for you to get to know us in relaxed circumstances.”

“Great,” she said. “That’ll be just great.”

IN THE BEDROOM UPSTAIRS, Jake was about to hammer the nail into the wall when Moana said, “Rob told me you have to take this lawyer under your wing.”

Jake missed the nail and hit his thumb. He cursed and flicked his hand furiously. “He wants me to what?”

Moana picked up the nail and handed it to Jake, who glowered, but turned back to the job. “C’mon Jake, we’ve got to win her over. If it comes to a head-on confrontation, we’ll lose. They have far more money than we’ll ever have and will bankrupt us by playing it out over months, even years. We’ve got to be sneaky. Woo her.”

Jake snorted. “That’s highly unlikely. I’ve never encountered such a cold customer in my life.”

Three brisk raps and the nail was half driven into the wall. He really wanted to bang it all the way in.

Moana nudged him to one side, hung the picture, then stepped back to admire it, head cocked. “What’s the big deal? She seems fine to me. All you have to do is be nice. Show her the birds. They’re so cute she’ll love them. Take her swimming and surfing. If she falls in love with Aroha Bay then she’s bound to come on our side.”

Jake ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s not that simple. We’ve already got off on the wrong foot.”

“How?” Moana looked at him in surprise.

He shrugged. “It was hate at first sight. There’s no chemistry between us. Besides, I’m way too busy with the book and everything right at this moment. Get someone else to show her around.”

“Who? Rob and I are tied up with the baby. Sass is so gorgeous that Pete’ll try to flirt, while Alison’ll murder her if we leave them alone two minutes.”

“Yeah, Allie’s really committed to the terns.”

“Especially since you came on the scene…” Moana smiled as she saw his expression. “Okay, don’t believe me! Getting back to this lawyer, it’ll only be for a week. You may even grow to like each other.”

“What? Me and Miss Pain-in-the?” He laughed. “That’s never going to happen.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“OKAY, WE NEED TEAMS. Rob, you can lead one, Jake the other,” Alison said, taking charge as they all gathered around the bins of overalls and helmets at the paintball center.

What the hell she was doing here, Sass wondered, playing games with the people she’d come to fight? They’d all come out together in the van after dropping Jacob off with a babysitter, picking up the boys and then stopping for this Alison woman, who’d checked Sass out as if she were a bug from under some stone.

“I’ll take Moana,” said Jake.

“Oi, you can’t choose my wife like that,” Rob protested.

“Just have. Whatcha going to do about it?”

“Steal Sass,” Rob replied. “All Americans were born knowing how to shoot a gun, right?”

“Does a water pistol count?” she asked.

“Good enough.” He put on a Darth Vader voice. “Come over here to the dark side, my child.”

“And I’ll be on Jake’s team,” Alison said quickly, “to stop him from getting too bossy.”

“That’s not fair,” Brad pointed out. “You’re the two best shots.”

“Well, you’re the third best, so we’ll have you,” Rob said. “Besides, it’s all in the strategy. With Sass’s brain and mine, they stand no chance.”

“Yeah, yeah! Talk is cheap, brother. I’ll take Pete. You can have both twins.”

Moana was busy sorting gear. “Here, Sass, try these on for size.”

She caught the overalls Moana threw to her. They were paint-stained, damp and very grubby. She looked ruefully down at her own clothing before wriggling into them.

“You’ll need this, as well,” Jake said, handing her a helmet. His overalls were likewise grimy, but though baggy on the backside, they were taut across his shoulders. He looked like a raffish action hero.

Sass jammed the helmet down over her French roll. It felt clammy.

“Team photos,” Alison cried, squeezing in next to Jake. “You go over there, Sass, with your team.”

“Yup, let’s get a photo of the team that’s going to win,” Rob said, gathering his band about him and flinging a friendly arm around Sass’s shoulders as the paint-ball owner dutifully took photos on Alison’s camera.

“Not with an aim like yours you won’t,” Jake retorted. “I’ve seen you miss entire trees.”

“Only because they moved. Keep talking it up, little brother, doesn’t bother me.”

Sass couldn’t help smiling at the fraternal rivalry. She was reminded of her own brothers when they’d been young and full of cheek—before everything had gone wrong.

“Are you ready, Sass? Good, then we’ll head out to the battlefield, where we get our weapons.”

With a nod, she began following Rob and the rest of her team down the hill. The sun blazed; the overalls were hot and snagged on bushes as she passed. If she was in New York right now she could be dropping into an art gallery, meeting friends for coffee. Oh, who was she kidding? If she wasn’t at work, she’d be at home, prepping for some case or other, dressed in sweats. For kicks she’d do a half hour on the treadmill and catch a late-night movie on TV.

Here she was hot as hell and desperately trying not to think of the sweaty head that had previously inhabited her helmet. But at the same time she felt a strange stirring in her blood.

It’s only a game, she told herself, but a primitive part of her came to life. Ahead she could see her enemy. Top-ping everyone by several inches, his sun-bleached hair glinting in the light, Jake moved light-footed as an Apache. Alison, small and muscular beside him, talked urgently in a low voice, no doubt planning their attack.

Sass looked about her. The bushy hills and valleys stretched dizzyingly to the horizon in front, and behind the sea glinted in the afternoon sun. She wished she could sit and take it all in. Instead what she was going to get, she was pretty sure, was a running battle with Alison, who for some reason had really taken a dislike to her.

“Looking forward to this?” Brad was at her elbow.

“Sort of,” Sass said. “It’s not really my kinda thing.”

“Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt that much when you get shot—unless it’s on the shin or the ribs,” he added.

“That’s a relief. I’ll stay kneeling, with my elbows tucked in at my sides then.”

Brad grinned, refusing to believe anyone could be that fainthearted, and continued with his advice. “Just shoot at anything that moves. Don’t pause, keep going no matter what.”

“Right.”

“And whatever you do, don’t let Jake get you in his line of fire. He never misses.”

“Gotcha.”

That mildly titillating thrill was replaced with dread. She was a city girl, for chrissakes!

Halfway down the steep hill they came upon a large tent, where both teams were armed, two flags given out and the rules explained. “One fort is in the gully, the other on top of the hill.”

“We’ll take the top of the hill,” Alison declared.

At exactly the same time Jake said, “We’ll take the gully.”

They looked at each other, then she shrugged. “Yeah, okay. We’ll take the gully. We can fight uphill.”

“That’s the spirit,” Rob encouraged.

The teams split up.

“See you in my sights, honey,” Moana called out.

“Always ready to draw your fire,” her husband responded.

Sass wished she had someone she could joke with. Going into battle without a friend in the world, she thought ironically. And a little wistfully.

“Take care, America,” Jake called out. “You may never have been invaded, but there’s always a first.”

“Ain’t seen no threats so far, boy,” she replied in her broadest Southern drawl.

Jake laughed and bounded away down the hillside with the joyousness of the superfit. Alison followed, after eyeballing Sass. The two were honestly looking forward to this.

“Now, Sass, do you want to guard the fort or go capture the flag?” Rob asked.

The devil and the deep blue sea. But not for nothing had one of Sass’s great-great-great-granddaddies been a hero in the Civil War. “I’ll join the invading forces,” she said.

“Thatta girl!” Rob exclaimed. “With those legs, you should be fast.” Quickly, he gave the boys their positions, and was outlining a few tactics when the whistle blew.

“That’s us. Good luck, team.” Rob jumped down a small gully and disappeared into the bush, crouching as he ran. Brad let out a warrior whoop and disappeared on the other side. Somehow Mark and Mike melted into the shadows, and suddenly Sass felt alone, exposed on the sunbaked hillside. She squatted down, feeling also very foolish.

“Dumb game,” she muttered, but nevertheless began making her way down the hillside, dodging from tree to bush in the best Western fashion. The gun was heavy, but also reassuring. Something moved and she shot.

“Not me!” Brad whispered furiously.

“Sorry,” she stage-whispered back. Oh, God, it was beginning to look like a very long afternoon.

The air erupted into stuttering gunfire and there was a frustrated cry.

“Damn, shot already!” Moana said as she emerged from the shadows, hands and gun in the air, making her way back to the tent, where she had to wait three minutes. “Just you wait for tonight, Rob Finlayson. There’ll be no mercy for shooting your beloved wife.”

“Can’t wait.” His disembodied voice floated back.

The leaves around Sass hissed and danced, and she realized someone was shooting at her. She dived, but even as she hit the ground, pain ricocheted up her arm from her elbow, where she’d been hit, and she yelped.

“Yes!” said a woman. Alison. Of course.

The next twenty minutes were hard-fought as paint-balls whizzed in all directions. The enemy seemed to be all around her in the bushes and Sass shot indiscriminately, ducking, weaving and diving across the hillside. The sun blazed down as she sweated under the overalls, her helmet clammier than ever. The visor was claustrophobic and made the world seem vaguely unreal. Her Italian loafers slithered and slipped on the rough ground.

Disorientated, she rounded a small bluff, and instantly everything seemed to grow still. The shots and cries of battle receded and she could even hear a bird in one of the trees. Sighing with relief, she took off the helmet and shook her hair free of the sweaty French roll. The craving for a cigarette, which had begun in the van coming out, was now insistent. She glanced around. There was no one here. Settling her back against a tree, Sass lit up and inhaled deeply as she put the box on the ground beside her. Oh my, but that was good. Sanity seeped back into her bones and she closed her eyes, the sun warm on her lids. Drowsily, she drew on her cigarette. There was nothing—nothing—to equal the joy of a cigarette.

The box beside her bucked and she jumped, staring down in bewilderment. Red paint leaked through the destroyed cardboard cigarette box. With a furious cry, Sass whipped around, to see Jake laughing behind her.

“Thought you’d escape, did you? Told you, smoking isn’t allowed.”

Her peace violated, Sass snatched up her gun and sent a volley of paintballs at her tormentor. There was satisfaction in seeing him dive for the cover of nearby bushes. He gave a small cry, then Sass heard the sickening sound of his body falling, tearing out bushes and breaking branches as he went. Throwing her rifle to one side, she ran to where he had dived. The bushes had screened a small cliff face, not high, but very steep, and Jake lay motionless on a narrow shelf near the bottom. With an exclamation, Sass slithered down, gripping bushes and tufts of grass to slow her descent. How on earth would it look in New York if they discovered she’d managed to eliminate one of their chief protagonists in armed combat?

Once on the ledge, she crouched beside Jake and whipped off his helmet to check his breathing.

His eyes opened. “Are you going to give me the kiss of life?” He sounded breathless, but there was no sign of injury. There was, however, teasing laughter in those green eyes.

“You rat!” Relieved, Sass thumped him hard on his chest, causing him to jackknife. “I was worried, and you played dead on purpose!”

“I didn’t,” he protested. “I was just getting my breath back when you came and ripped off my helmet.”

“Well, I can see you’re fine,” she said, trying to reclaim her dignity in this ridiculous situation. She rose, intending to climb back up to her gun, but her stupid pumps skated on the loose earth and this time it was she who slipped. Jake made a grab for her but it was too late, and they both fell off the ledge, rolling in a tangle down the last part of the slope and landing with a whump at the bottom, Jake plastered on top of her.

For a second both were too taken aback to move, then he pushed himself up on his arms, his weight still pinning her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

She knew she ought to get him off her, but it was as though the scene had been put on pause. Looking into his face, she saw his concern being replaced by something else. The sun behind his head lit his tousled mop like a halo, but there was nothing saintly about the catch in his breath. She felt the thud of her heart, heard the rasping of a cicada close to her left ear. The sun was hot on her shins, but her face was protected by Jake’s shadow. She could smell his sweat and the dust that coated them both. There was also a faint scent from one of the bushes they had crushed.

His weight bore down on her and—no, she was not going to think how wonderful it felt. Slowly his face came down to hers, and she felt his breath on her cheek. She lay absolutely still. It seemed an eternity before his lips reached hers in a soft kiss. Sass closed her eyes and almost dreamily parted her lips. The kiss deepened and the world dissolved around her as his weight, his mouth on hers, invaded all her senses. Then she pushed up, twisting with her hips, and he relaxed, allowing her to roll him so that now she lay on top. Burying her fingers in his hair, she took her turn exploring his mouth, surrendering to glorious, mindless, animal instincts. His hands tightened across her back, and as her hips pressed against his, she became aware of his arousal. Somehow this fact got through to her stupid brain.

This was all wrong.

With a wrench that was almost physically painful she pulled back and slipped sideways off his body. He gave a muffled protest and his hands caught at her, then let her go. She wasn’t sure whether this was out of respect for her wishes or because he, too, was coming to his senses. She was surprised that not knowing bothered her.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” she said.

“No.” He cleared his throat and blinked. The sun must’ve blinded him because he shut his eyes again. “Sorry.”

“It must be the heat or the adrenaline or something. You don’t have to apologize.”

“Not for kissing you. For startling you in the first place.” He smiled, eyes still closed. “Mind you, if I’d known it would provoke such a response, I’d have done it sooner.”

Her heart tripped but she said, “We ought to be getting back to the game.”

“Yeah.” He rolled over and sat up, shaking his head. “Pity we aren’t allowed to take prisoners.” He rose and put out his hand to pull her up, too.

“Why? Who’d be the prisoner, you or me?” Sass asked as she came to her feet, her head not very much lower than his.

“Good question. I’d be happy either way.”

“This doesn’t change anything,” she said. He looked down at her and she looked steadily back at him. “It shouldn’t have happened. I’d appreciate it if you would forget what just took place.” She’d never had her brain say one thing and her treacherous senses something quite different.

He hesitated, eyes narrowed and searching her face. “Would you? Well, if that’s how you want to play it…”

“I don’t mix business with other stuff.”

He nodded. “Other stuff would certainly complicate matters.” His expression and tone had both hardened.

She stuck out her hand as though to bring some professionalism into this absurd moment. “Then we are agreed. This incident never happened.”

“Agreed,” he said, taking her hand. But instead of shaking it, he turned it over to kiss her pulse, which, unforgivably, skipped. “It’s forgotten already.” Swinging his helmet up in one hand and his gun with the other, Jake disappeared into the bush.

Sass was left staring at the trees that had closed about him. Why did she feel desolate? She held her wrist. Had that been a caress or a challenge? One thing she knew for sure, from now on she’d be keeping a close eye on him—and herself.

CHAPTER FIVE

JAKE BARELY SAW SASS the following day. He took the boys to a regional competition, and though he made a rather ungracious offer to include her, she declined, saying she’d rather read the books Rob had lent her. They’d returned home late and saw no sign of her other than the kitchen looking unusually clean and tidy. She must have accepted his invitation to help herself to whatever she fancied. Funny how even when not seeing her, he could somehow sense her presence all around him.

On Monday morning, Jake dropped her off in Whangarimu to do some shopping, while he met Rob and Moana for coffee at a waterfront café. He tried to relax, but when a text message from Sass arrived, his temper, uncertain all morning, ignited.

“Of all the ridiculous—where the hell does she think she is?”

“What’s up?” Rob asked.

“It’s from Miss Pain-in-the. She doesn’t want a lift home, says she’ll find her own way back.” His voice was loaded with sarcasm.

“How?”

“She doesn’t say. She probably thinks she can catch the subway or some daft notion. If she takes a taxi, it’ll cost her a fortune.”

“Text her and find out what she’s planning to do,” Moana suggested.

The answer winged back.

“Oh my God, she’s rented a car! Now I’ll find her in a ditch somewhere after driving on the wrong side of the road. What the hell is she trying to prove?”

Moana shrugged. “I don’t see what the big deal is. She only wants a bit of independence.”

“She’s doing it,” said Jake, “to get at me.”

“Oh, come on. Hiring a car is not a personal insult.” Rob stirred sugar into his coffee. “I don’t see why you’re getting so het up about it.”

“It’s a symbol,” said Jake darkly.

Moana laughed at this, tossing her hair back over her shoulders as she rocked the pram where six-month-old Jacob lay sleeping. “Of what? I don’t get what’s going on between you two. I thought the paintball was supposed to improve international relations, but you were both even frostier on the way home than on the way out. What’s Sass done to rile you so much?”

Rob cocked an eyebrow. “Anything happen at paint-ball that we should know about?”

Jake forced a short laugh. “C’mon, you were there. Where was the opportunity for anything?”

Rob’s eyes narrowed. “Is that an evasion?”

He was rescued from interrogation by Jacob, who woke at that moment with a yell. Jake never lied to Rob, but somehow he couldn’t begin to say what had happened out there. He’d lost his mind temporarily—it was the only explanation. As for the American, he must surely have imagined that momentary, unbridled passion. It couldn’t really be lurking under her impenetrable calm. Jake wasn’t used to being given the brush-off, and he was most certainly not used to caring on the rare occasion he was. Furthermore, he was used to sleeping soundly every night, so his resentment had been compounded when, at three in the morning, he’d found himself awake, libido in knots, wondering what the hell he was trying to prove with this stupid celibacy kick, anyway.

Sass, of course, had been as cool and as annoyingly imperturbable as ever during the drive into town earlier. She’d said she wanted to look around, and Jake had been glad to drop her off and leave her to her own devices for a few hours. The fact that the whole of Whangarimu shopping center could be done in under an hour had given him a small flash of malicious satisfaction. He’d thought once she discovered how hicksville they really were, she’d be ready to catch the next flight out. Instead, it seemed she was already finding her feet, taking control.

With Jacob still screaming, Rob and Moana said hasty farewells and, freed from the necessity of picking Sass up, Jake decided to drop into the local polytechnic. He survived financially by taking a series of temporary jobs such as farm work and teaching the conservation course part-time. This last job was proving more challenging than he’d thought. Who’d have ever guessed teachers put so much time and thought into their classes? Still, he loved the subject and his students, but the copious paperwork that went with the territory proved to be his bête noire. He was struggling with mounds of neglected filing when Colin popped his head around the door of Jake’s tiny office.

“Ah, there you are. Heard rustlings and thought it might be rats. Then I heard the swearing.”

Jake looked up at his colleague from the pile he’d just knocked off the desk. “Can’t believe how much junk accumulates in such a short time. Good thing I’m only part-time. If I were full-time, I’d be buried alive under avalanches of this crap.”

Colin stepped over another teetering pile and perched on a chair after removing yet more papers. His habitual good humor was intact. But beneath his thinning, sandy hair, his pale blue eyes were considerably sharper than his mild manner suggested. “Systems, that’s what you need.”

Jake grimaced. “Yeah, I know. I just seem biologically programmed to be incapable of following any.”

Colin looked from Jake’s biceps to his own thin, freckled arms. “I haven’t heard your female students complain about your biological programming.”

“It doesn’t impress management, however.”

Colin shook his head. “That’s not what I’ve heard. Numbers enrolling in conservation have rocketed—and not just girls. Rumor has it you’ve turned down offers for a full-time contract twice. Why’s that? I thought you were skint.”

Jake laughed as he leaned back and swung on his computer chair. “Yeah, well, it’s true I could do with the money but—” he hesitated “—full-time is a real commitment.”

Colin surveyed him. “More fun to be had on the surfing circuit?”

“Nah, I’ve been there, done that. Teaching is fun and I really enjoy it. It’s just—”Again Jake broke off, not sure himself what his objections were. “It just seems so final.” He knew that sounded lame, the minute the words were out. He wasn’t surprised when Colin shook his head.

“Listen to you. You sound like a kid of eighteen instead of a man in his thirties. It’s got to happen sooner or later. You can’t float on the surface of life forever. You need to put down some roots, mate.”

Jake pulled a face. “Think I’ve been on the road too many years to settle down now.”

“No desire for a wife and a home one day?” Colin eyed him curiously.

“Yeah, I’d like them someday—just not now.”

“Spoken like a true commitment-phobe.”

“Commitment-phobe?” Jake feigned outrage. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m up to my bloody neck in commitments at the present.”

Colin scratched his chin, a gesture he did when pondering an interesting phenomenon in the science lab. “Hmm, but they’re all short-term, aren’t they. The boys are only with you until the championships, the book has its deadline and as for the resort, well, that’s going to be settled sooner or later. Then what? Will you stay on and see how things go for the tern?”

His tone was dispassionate; he was simply analyzing the situation from an objective point of view. But it left Jake feeling disconcerted, even a little defensive.

“I haven’t planned that far ahead,” he said with a shrug.

Colin leaned back and folded his arms. “You know what your problem is?”

“No, and I don’t want to hear it from you, either.”

His colleague smiled but continued, unperturbed. “You’re still searching for the next best thing—the perfect wave. But a surfer like you should know there’s no such thing. You’ve got to take what’s in front of you.”

“What’s in front of me,” said Jake, making a sweeping gesture, “is this bloody nightmare, and the next best thing I need is a shredder. Is there one I can use?”

Colin laughed as he got to his feet. “Yeah, there’s one in the admin block. Okay, champ, have it your way. See you in a couple of weeks.”

THE OLDER MAN’S WORDS stayed with Jake, however, and as he drove home, his thoughts were bleak. It wasn’t only his desk that was a mess, his whole life needed systems. He was already past one deadline for the book he was writing on the fairy tern. How could he tell the publishers he’d stalled with it? All his energies, he told himself, were being used up in the battle to keep the invading Americans at bay. How could a man work when his home was threatened?

Damn Rob for saddling him with the woman. It just added to Jake’s responsibilities, this need to make her fall in love with Aroha Bay. If she had eyes in her head, she’d see for herself what a travesty a holiday resort would be in such a place. The last thing in the world he needed right now was to play host to some insufferable hotshot.

As for the boys…he’d bitten off more than he could chew there. It had been a great idea at the time—just like the book had been—but the reality was considerably more difficult than he’d expected. He’d had some cool idea that it would be like a surf camp and that as long as they were focused on surfing, the rest of their lives would sort out. Instead, the house was constantly a wreck and the boys seemed to need feeding every minute of the day.

What’s more, he had a feeling that even though it was still early in the school year, they were probably not doing as well as they should. The boys never seemed to do any homework, but Jake didn’t want to harp on about assignments and tests. God, he’d sound like his old man, and Brad was always squaring up against him as it was. What was up with the kid? He pretended it was all a joke, but he never missed an opportunity to make a dig at Jake, to defy his authority.

Jake still believed that Aroha Bay was what the boys needed, but Janet, their social worker, seemed unconvinced a single male was the best guardian for them. She’d been clearly unimpressed by the state of the house the last visit, and had said she’d drop by again soon. Despite her smile, it had sounded like a threat, and he knew she’d be along any day now. He really needed to clean ASAP, stock the fridge with fresh salad, that sort of thing. That’s what she’d be looking for. He could lose the boys otherwise. As he could lose the battle for Aroha Bay and the fairy tern.

Jake hated the mere thought of losing.

As he swung down the driveway to the house, his stress levels mounted. What he really craved was a surf but instead he’d have to cook dinner and sort through some of the bills that were cluttering the table. He probably also ought to entertain the American, though how, he couldn’t imagine. Well, he could. But that image was sharply repressed.

The first thing he saw, sitting jauntily next to the sleep-out, was the car. A red convertible. Bloody typical! He might have guessed she’d get something like that. He was amazed the boys weren’t all standing around it, tongues hanging out and begging for rides. Brad would be itching to drive. Oh, man, yet another battle Jake simply didn’t need. He pulled up next to the convertible and jumped out, slamming his door. There was no sign of Sass, but music was pounding out of the house. No guesses where the boys were, then. Delicious smells wafted across the grass. Cooking? No one in the house cooked. Jake bounded up the deck steps, then stopped short in the doorway. For a second he thought he must have the wrong house. The wrong boys.

“Hi, Jake,” Paul said with one of his shy, sidelong looks that substituted as a smile. He was polishing the glass of the bay window.

“Did you bring a game home?” Mike asked. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, putting all the loose DVDs and Xbox games into the right cases and stacking them.

“We were hoping you might pick up that new racing one,” Mark added from his perch on top of the sofa, where he was cleaning the cobwebs from the corners.

“Oh, you’re home,” Brad said as he passed through the lounge, lugging a vacuum cleaner. “Did you see the car? Isn’t she a little beauty?”

“What the hell is going on?” Jake roared.

The boys all paused.

“We’re cleaning,” said Brad in a “well, duh” tone. “But you guys don’t clean. You are the worst pigs I’ve ever met. If I tell you to put something away, you act like I’m the most unreasonable brute in the world.”

Brad grinned. “Ah, but that’s because you’re a crap cook.”

Jake shot him a look.

“Sass said she’d make Mexican if we cleaned the house. It’s got to be spotless. She’s an amazing cook,” one of the twins elaborated.

“How do you know?”

“She made us Texan burgers when we came back from school this afternoon. Said her brothers were always starving when they were our age. You’ve never tasted anything like these burgers. Then she offered us a deal. She’ll cook while she stays here so long as we keep the place clean.”

Jake couldn’t begin to untangle his thoughts and feelings on hearing that. Of all the managing, bossy, conniving… As for the boys, what a bunch of mercenary turncoats. At the same time, something did smell fantastic.

“Where is she?”

“In the kitchen.”

Jake went through and there, sure enough, was Sass stirring a pot. She was humming, her back to him, and looking like every man’s fantasy in a short denim skirt and a clinging white tee. Her blond hair was pulled up in a ponytail and a big Texan belt was slung around her slender hips. She didn’t hear him come in and he took a minute to look around the kitchen. Everything had been scrubbed, polished and put away. Every surface gleamed. He didn’t know that things on the stove could smell so good, either. He was not, however, so easily bought as the boys.

“What the hell is that?”

Sass turned. “Oh, you’re back.” It was a statement of fact, not a welcome. “That’s an espresso machine.”

“I can see that. Where did it come from?”

“A shop called Brisket or something like that.”

“Briscoes. What’s it doing here? I don’t drink coffee.”

“But I do.”

“You’re only here for a week.”

She leaned against the counter and folded her arms across her chest, as calm and cool as ever, despite the heat of the kitchen.

“Trust me, you don’t want to be around if I don’t get my daily caffeine fix. I’ll leave it for your next guests. How’re the boys doing? Dinner’s nearly ready.”

“I guess I should thank you.” He didn’t feel in the slightest bit grateful.

“No need, I didn’t do it to please you. Would you like to go and wash up? I’m serving in ten.”

INSTEAD OF EATING with plates on their laps, as was their custom, they sat at the cleared, cleaned table. When Jake came through, the boys were already there, looking surprisingly civilized and decidedly hungry.

“Flowers?” he said, with a nod to the vase of yellow roses. “A bit of a waste on five blokes, isn’t it?”

Sass blushed, but before she could reply Paul said softly, “My mum used to put flowers on the table.”

Jake and the other boys stared at him. He never spoke about his mother. She’d died eighteen months earlier.

“Did she?” The annoyance on Sass’s face disappeared and she smiled at Paul. She began handing out plates for the boys to help themselves. Jake saw from her eyes that she’d registered Paul’s use of the past tense, but her voice was light when she asked, “Did she enjoy gardening?”

Paul gave her a hesitant smile. “Couldn’t get her out of it—especially in summer.”

“I bet. A garden’s the one thing I’d really like in New York.”

Jake was impressed, despite himself. Paul wasn’t one to volunteer information, and he almost never smiled. There was something in Sass’s manner that the boys were instinctively turning to. It wasn’t that she was motherly—more like a big sister. She must have been great with her own brothers.

“It looks good,” he said, prepared to have a truce with a person who could tame this brood.

Brad grinned. “It tastes even better. Oh, and you owe Sass three hundred and forty-eight bucks.”

“What?”

Sass threw Brad a reproving look. “I told you not to mention it. It’s not a big deal.”

“What three hundred dollars?” Jake demanded.

“For the electricity,” Brad continued, ignoring Sass. “They cut the power off this morning.”

“Bastards!” Jake was mortified that Sass should see he wasn’t coping.

“We found the bills in the pile of shit over there—” Brad waved toward the overflowing in-tray on top of the piano “—and Sass rang and paid over the phone with her credit card. Man,” he continued admiringly, “you should have heard the way she sweet-talked the guy into reconnecting us immediately. Tell you what, you’re going to have a fight on your hands if Sass decides against you guys.”

“Can it, motormouth.” Sass glared at him, then looked at Jake. “It’s not an issue. I’d have been paying to stay in a hotel. Consider this my contribution to staying here, instead.”

“Thank you,” said Jake stiffly, “but I won’t hear of you paying my bills.”

They locked eyes. Sass’s head tilted before she shrugged and smiled. That polite smile of hers, not the real one she kept for the boys, for Rob and Moana—for everyone except him. “Sure, pay me back whenever.”

She then turned the conversation to surfing, a guaranteed way to get the boys talking, leaving Jake to enjoy his Pyrrhic victory. In silence he devoured his meal. It was as good as it smelled but he wished it had been burned or undercooked or something. She made him feel so damned incompetent. The dining room, like the kitchen, had been transformed. She must have had the boys working like galley slaves all afternoon. Not that it would last long. Jake pulled these ungracious thoughts up short. Here he was with a clean house, electricity and dinner, and she wasn’t even looking for his gratitude. She’d done it purely to suit herself. He ought to enjoy it. He ought to, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was invading every facet of his life. Typical American, the original invader.

The phone rang and he left the table to answer it.

“Hi, it’s Moana. I’m just phoning to remind you about the party on Saturday night.”

He swore.

“I knew you’d forget! Look, Rob and I think it would be nice to invite Sass along, too.”

“She wouldn’t be interested.”

“Ask her.”

“You ask her,” he said gracelessly.

“Oh, Jake.” Moana sighed. He could picture her shaking her head. “Put her on the line then.”

Jake called out to Sass, “Moana wants a word.”

As he took his place again at the table he could hear her soft American intonations that conjured visions of large white Southern mansions with those mile-long, tree-lined drives that were always in movies.

“You’re inviting me out? That’s so sweet of you, I’d love to come.” She listened. “Yeah, it’s a cute little red car… A bit strange getting used to driving on the other side of the road… No, he hasn’t mentioned it… We’re having dinner right now…” She laughed. “No, I cooked… Yes, I can cook! What do you think I am?” She laughed again. Jake knew Moana was liking her more and more. Was this interloper going to bewitch everyone? Couldn’t they see? “Yeah, see you tomorrow night at the meeting… The boys’ parents will be there? Well, I’ll look forward to it. Bye for now.”

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