Deanna laughed into her coffee mug. 'Well that's not complicated. It's chemistry. You don't have to like someone to sleep with them. It helps, but it's not a deal breaker.'

'I get that. But there's something going on with him, he really hates what I do for a living.'

'Male chauvinist?' Deanna suggested.

Genie shook her head. 'I don't think it's as simple as that. It's something more, but I can't put my finger on it.'

'Maybe he's a recovering s.e.x addict or something.'

Knowing him as intimately as she did in that particular respect, Genie seriously doubted Abel was a man likely to attempt to recover from such an addiction if he were to have one.

'Who knows,' she murmured. 'Either way, he's an unwelcome disruption.'

'Is there absolutely no chance of getting him on side as an investor?' Deanna tried, ever the optimist.

It was Genie's turn to laugh.

Deanna's expression turned thoughtful. 'Not a prayer? You're totally sure? Because it seems to me that he's the only wealthy investor we know.'

'The last time I spoke to him I threw something at him and called him a f.u.c.kwit.'

Deanna grinned. 'Someone has some serious sucking up to do then.'

'Not a chance.'

'So what is the plan then?'

Genie rubbed her hands over her face, aware that her answer wasn't going to cut it. 'Just keep doing what I'm doing and hope for a miracle?'

'You better start rubbing that lamp a bit harder in that case, Genie-girl. You might get your three wishes.'

'I only need one,' she said flatly. 'I just want everything to go back to how it was.' She finished her coffee and slid the mug onto the table. 'And for Abel Kingdom to p.i.s.s off back to Australia.'

'That's two wishes. And you'd probably miss the angry s.e.x.'

Genie hated the suggestion that she'd miss anything whatsoever about Abel Kingdom when this was all over.

She slept badly that night and woke early with Deanna's words still resounding in her ears. Would it be better if she attempted some kind of truce with Abel? There was very little point in going over there and attempting to hoodwink him with false friendliness; it wasn't her style and he'd see through her in a heartbeat. But the fact was that he was going to be under this roof for the foreseeable future and being around him like this was exhausting. She was constantly wound up; he was putting her off her game.

Seizing the moment, because she felt that if she didn't do it right now, she'd lose her nerve, she walked purposefully to the door of her apartment, marched across the hall, and knocked on his door.

'Go away. It's the middle of the G.o.dd.a.m.n night,' Abel shouted, unwilling to get out of bed at the crack of dawn when he'd slept so badly.

'It's gone seven.'

Genie. Who else? He contemplated rolling over and going back to sleep, but if there was one thing he'd learned about the girl it was that she was tenacious. She'd probably knock on that door until her knuckles bled. Resigned, he yanked on his jeans and headed out of his room.

'Come to throw something else at me?' he said, lounging on the doorframe and trying to look disinterested. She was bare faced and wearing a white cotton slip, which unfortunately for him played right into his perfect fantasy of her. She looked as if she needed flowers threaded through her hair, like she'd stepped out of the pages of Pride and Prejudice. Pillageable.

'Only to make a suggestion,' she said simply. 'Can I come in?'

He stepped aside, noticing she was barefoot as she pa.s.sed him, surrounding him with the clean scent of fresh water and subtle feminine shower gel. She had a unique way of playing with his head, the constant push and pull sent him into a tailspin. Showgirl. Innocent. Showgirl. Innocent. She didn't know it, but here, like this, she was most potent of all. He was already fighting the urge to pick her up and carry her to the bedroom.

Was she wearing anything underneath that thing? It had tiny b.u.t.tons down the front, the kind that would bounce off the floorboards with a pleasurable ping if he took the fabric in his hands and pulled it open. She had to know what she looked like, all peaches and cream skin and her hair in waves down her back.

'Coffee?' he said, because he needed one himself.

She nodded and perched on a chair at his dining table. He moved around the kitchen, taking his time, pulling himself together. She waited quietly, not making small talk or even the tiniest wisecrack or jibe. What was coming next, he wondered? What role was she playing now?

At last, placing her coffee down, he took the next seat at the table and watched her.

'Out with it then,' he said, and she smiled a tentative smile that he knew would stay in his head for a while after she'd left.

'Well,' she began, and he could hear the nerves in her voice. 'I think we need a different approach.'

He wasn't sure what she meant. 'Go on.'

She looked a little nervous. Uncharacteristically so.

'I'm not going to throw things at you any more. Or call you names. Or fight with you all the time.'

'That just about sums up our entire acquaintance up to this point,' Abel said. 'Are you suggesting we avoid each other altogether?'

'No, not exactly,' she said slowly, her hands curled around the mug on the table. 'I thought we could try being friends.'

'Friends?' he said.

'Or people who can get along with each other, at least,' she added.

Did she think he was so easily fooled?

'Are you trying to b.u.t.ter me up to stop me buying the theatre? Because it won't work, Beauty.'

'I'm not. And I'm not going to stop trying every trick in the book to stop you, but all this... this other stuff between us is wearing me out.'

Abel liked the idea of wearing her out very much, though he chose not to voice it.

'So what are you saying? You wanna do stuff like go to the movies instead?' Actually, sc.r.a.p that. The idea of taking Genie to the movies made him think of being in a dark place and sliding his hand up her skirt.

'You should know that there's no way I'm going shoe shopping with you,' he said, flippant. 'Or painting your nails.' He glanced down at her coral pink toenails, and then back up the length of her body again. 'I don't mind having a crack at your bikini line though.'

She laughed easily, ignoring his cra.s.sness. 'I'm not sixteen, Abel. I don't expect you to swap secrets and come to the disco with me. I just want things to be calmer between us. The occasional cup of coffee.' She glanced down at her mug to ill.u.s.trate the point.

'Okay,' he said, wondering if he could be friends with Genie. Back home he had several close female friends, but they weren't women he struggled to be around without getting hard. Sure, they were beautiful, just not his kind of beautiful. 'Let's try it. Why not? Lunch today?' he found himself adding. 'I'll cook for you.'

Her eyes opened a little wider. 'You cook?'

Abel nodded. He could cook. He'd had to fend for himself from a pretty early age.

'All right.' She looked nonplussed for a moment, then laughed with the lightest of shrugs. 'Lunch it is.'

Genie returned to her side of the hallway, unsure whether to be glad or not at how readily Abel had accepted her olive branch. Lunch. It brought a whole new meaning to keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.

Christ, he'd taken fresh-out-of-bed rumpled to a whole new level over there just now: s.e.xy didn't even begin to cover how he'd looked in his clearly just-yanked-on jeans. He had a presence, a vitality, he was a big solid wall of Australian oh-my-G.o.d s.e.xiness that made her throat constrict. She huffed out, dragging her hair back into a ponytail. Deanna was right. There was a basic s.e.xual chemistry between them, as undeniable as breathing.

Unlike breathing though, Genie rather hoped that being attracted to each other was something she and Abel could make the decision to opt out of and survive.

Chapter Thirteen.

'Stir fry?' Genie said enquiringly, taking a seat at Abel's dining table a little while later.

Abel set a plate down in front of Genie. 'I like healthy stuff.'

'Must be all that healthy outdoor living,' Genie smiled, spearing a prawn. 'Don't you usually barbecue these things?'

'I've been known to fire up the barbie every now and then,' Abel said, giving the phrase an ironic emphasis, pouring wine into Genie's gla.s.s and then his own. 'It's kind of a way of life over there. We spend more time outside in the sunshine.'

'You sound as if you love Australia,' she observed, taking pleasure in the way his face lit up when he talked about home.

Abel nodded. 'It's home. Our skies are wider. Our seas are bluer. The opportunities are bigger.' He paused, wistful. 'And the people are warmer. I'll never come back here to live.'

Genie mulled over what he'd said, understanding his accent more now. He'd been hard to place; mostly British, but every now and then he'd say something with an unmistakable Aussie tw.a.n.g. His love for his adopted home shone from both his face and his words. 'How old were you when you emigrated?'

A shadow pa.s.sed over his features before he cleared it away with a shrug. 'Eighteen.'

Genie took a moment to savour the food; Abel made a mean stir fry. 'With your folks?'

There it was again, that shadow, lingering this time as he shook his head. 'No.'

It was such a concise answer, it left Genie with few avenues to keep the conversation going without pushing.

Abel picked up his wine gla.s.s and smiled before touching it to his lips.

'And you?' he said, sliding his gla.s.s back onto the table, his fingers lingering on the stem. 'How did you end up living here with your uncle?'

'My mother wasn't the maternal type. She left me on the theatre steps when I was a kid with a note asking Uncle Davey to look after me.' It was Genie's turn to reach for her wine. 'He always jokes I was like Paddington Bear but without the wellingtons.'

Abel was quiet for a second. 'That's a lot to ask of a man.'

'Uncle Davey might wear dresses and four inch heels but he's the strongest man I know.' Warmth spread through Genie's bones as she thought of her uncle. 'He never once made me feel like an inconvenience.'

'I'm guessing you don't have brothers and sisters then,' Abel said.

Genie shook her head. 'Although Deanna is as good as. I can't remember a time when she wasn't my best friend.'

Abel's eyebrows shifted slightly. 'Yeah. I'd noticed she's a little territorial.'

'Protective,' Genie corrected, amused. 'And you?' she said, laying her cutlery down. 'Any siblings?'

'Just me.' Abel's throat worked as he swallowed, drawing Genie's eyes to the golden skin at the neck of his tee shirt. He'd dressed casually for their lunch, still barefoot in his well-loved jeans and a faded tee. It was a look he worked well.

'Why do I get the feeling that you don't want to talk about this stuff?' she asked, sipping her wine.

'Because I don't want to talk about this stuff,' he said evenly. 'There's nothing to tell. Australia is my home. I have good friends and business is booming. End of story.'

He made it sound so clear-cut, so why did she feel as if he were glossing over the important bits?

'Sounds good,' she said. 'You must miss the sunshine while you're here.'

'Is that your roundabout way of asking me when I'm going to go home and leave you in peace?'

She laughed. 'It wasn't, but seeing as you mention it...'

'You're out of luck, Beauty. I'm here for a while yet.'

Genie glanced down at her almost empty dinner plate, absorbing the information and trying to decide how it made her feel.

Abel stood and crossed to the open plan kitchen, returning with the wok in his hand.

'More?' He gestured towards her plate and looked pleased when she accepted seconds.

'This is delicious,' she said. 'Who taught you to cook?'

'The TV,' he replied smoothly.

Not his mother then, Genie surmised, although she didn't pry about his family for a second time. He'd made it pretty clear that it wasn't a subject he wanted to talk about.

'Well, you're way ahead of me,' she said. 'I'm hopeless.'

'I'm sure you have your own talents,' he murmured, refilling their wine gla.s.ses before glancing up, a little abashed, then adding, 'I didn't actually mean that to sound like a come-on.'

Genie concentrated on eating her food to avoid answering him for a moment. He certainly didn't appreciate her talents on stage. 'I believe you.'

A small, genuine smile curved his mouth. 'Thank you.'

It was a moment of understanding that wasn't usual for them.

'It's hard to place you from your accent,' she said, moving the conversation along. 'Which part of the UK are you from originally?'

She'd thought it a fairly innocuous question, so was surprised by the dark cloud that wiped the easy smile from his face.

'London,' he said, and then shoved his chair back and gathered the plates.