“Jules, what are you doing here? For God’s sake, is that what you wore on the plane?” Cal was going to have to wallop every asshole who looked at her sideways. And they would look.

“No, I flew starkers—of course this is what I wore. What’s wrong with it?” She stared down and tugged at her skirt.

“Where to begin?”

“Very funny. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Natur—”

“Because I had to get out of there. Daddy is cross and shouting all the bloody time. He canceled my credit cards, Cal. I had to borrow money from my biffle to get a plane ticket.”

Cal marched around the room and began gathering clothes. But he drew the line at touching scanties. He thrust the bundle into her arms. “What the fuck is a biffle?”

“BFFL. Best Friends for Life. God, what a divvy you are.”

“You’re dressed like an Essex girl, you know.”

Her mouth fell open. “I’m not.”

“You are, and it’s not attractive.”

She dropped the bundle of clothes. “Everyone in L.A. dresses like this, you knob.”

Cal sighed. Pulling her into his arms, he hugged her tight. He’d have kissed her forehead, but he was afraid his lips would be streaked with makeup for the rest of the day. “Sorry, you just took me by surprise is all.”

Jules hugged him back before glancing up. “You missed me. Don’t deny it.”

“Of course I did. You’re my favorite sister. Does Father know you’re here?”

She stepped back. “No. I just left. Not like he cares, banishing me to the pool house and all that.”

“And what about your mum? She cares.”

“She’s a lemming. She thinks whatever Daddy tells her to think.”

“Have you given any thought to your court date or the drink-driving charge? Do you think you can just do a runner, and the judge won’t notice?”

She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “I don’t go back to court for a month.”

That would explain the six unopened suitcases piled up in the corner. While he was glad to see her, she couldn’t stay here. Their father would go barmy and cut her off for good. But how to tell her that without hurting her feelings? “Are you planning on picking up these clothes, or just leaving them in a heap?”

“Listen to you. When did you become so stodgy?”

“I am not stodgy. When did you get in?”

“Last night. Where were you, by the way?”

“Absolutely none of your business.”

“It’s like that, is it?”

Cal didn’t want to talk about his night. Instead, he walked into the closet and retrieved a fresh set of clothes. “Why don’t you pick up your clutter in the lounge and order us lunch,” he said over his shoulder.

“Don’t be daft, Cal. I’ll just call housekeeping and let them pick it up.”

Babs had taught Cal better than that. He may not be as neat as a pin, but he could certainly pick up after himself. He strode back into the bedroom and removed the house phone from her hand. “You made the mess, you’ll clean it up.” Without responding to her gasp of outrage, Cal pulled his phone and wallet from his jeans and dropped them on the bedside table, then stalked into the bathroom and shut the door with his foot.

He took a deep breath and stared at his reflection, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his cheeks. He looked a bit shot. No wonder, having spent the night with Ryan, the snore piggy.

His eyes drifted to the marble counter overflowing with feminine shit. Curlers and straighteners and a hair dryer were thrown haphazardly, their wires commingling and dripping to the floor like tentacles. Powder and eye shadow and nail varnish. Bloody fucking hell. And why did she need purple false eyelashes?

Shaking his head, Cal stripped and hopped in the shower. He shouldn’t be so hard on Jules. He hadn’t seen her in over a year, and he’d missed her terribly. They just needed some ground rules. She wouldn’t be staying long, at any rate.

After drying off, he dressed in clean clothes and hastily shaved before strolling to the lounge. Jules had taken care of her plates and towels, and neatly stacked the magazines on the coffee table. As he continued out to the pool, he found her sprawled in a lounger, her shirt off and her skirt hiked up farther than was legal. “God, Jules.” He covered his eyes with one hand and sidled to the towel stand. Jerking two from the stack, he tossed them in her direction. “Get decent, will you?”

She sighed, and he heard the lounger creak with her movements. “When did you become such a fucking prude?” After a minute, she spoke again. “You can look.” She’d wrapped a towel around her so only the bra straps were visible.

Cal thrust his fingers through his damp hair. “I apologize for overreacting before. I was a twat.”

Jules’s brows rose over the tops of her pricey sunglasses. “You think?”

“Did you order us something to eat? I’m half-starved.”

“Yes, should be here in another fifteen.”

Cal perched on the second lounger. He and Jules stared at each other, neither saying a word. The silence grew to an embarrassing length.

She tugged on a curl, let it spring back in place. “So, Australia.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry about Babs. I know you were gutted. You could have come to L.A. after she died. You didn’t have to stay in Cairns this whole time.”

Cal didn’t want to talk about it. It was still too raw, even after all these months. “I just needed some time alone. I apologize for missing your birthday, though.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

They remained quiet until Cal’s mobile rang, letting him know the food had arrived. It took three men to roll three carts into the villa. Cal signed the check and tipped them. He turned to Jules. “I do hope there’s something edible under all these domes.” He lifted the silver cloche and discovered cheesecake.

Cal grabbed a fork and tucked in while Jules uncovered the rest. She’d ordered everything from pizza to burgers to onion rings. Not a vegetable in sight.

As Cal ate, he studied her. Jules had changed in the last year, besides the trashy clothes and artistic makeup. She’d always been slim, but now her face had lost some of its roundness, making her eyes seem larger. Her limbs were more lithe, less coltish. His baby sister had grown up.

Other than birthdays, he didn’t see much of her. They mostly chatted by video, or texted. Cal’s father preferred it that way—after all, Cal was physical proof of the old man’s disastrous first marriage. George Hughes didn’t like to be reminded of his failures.

Cal gorged on cheeseburgers and chicken strips while Jules picked at a couple of French fries. Once Cal’s hunger subsided, he leaned back. “You have to let Father know you’re here.”

She stood and gathered their plates, setting them back on the carts. “He won’t even miss me. After he stopped yelling, he quit speaking to me altogether. He’s been issuing orders through Mum for the last few days.”

“You can’t just run from your troubles.”

“You did. You never stay in one place for long, and it’s worked for you.”

“True, but I’ve never been arrested, either.” One of her blue-shadowed eyes twitched in irritation. Cal fully understood he wasn’t the best person to offer advice. Telling her to stay put sounded terribly hypocritical—nevertheless, she needed to hear it. “Look, I know the old man is awful, and you may need a break. But this isn’t the way to do it.”

Jules crossed to the French doors and stared out at the patio. “I have no money, no credit cards, my license was suspended. What the bloody hell am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. Look for a job, like a normal person. Go to the animal shelter and sweep up cat hair. Do something productive.”

“You don’t have a job. Not a proper one. What were you doing this morning?” Jules spun on her heel and faced him. Her brows drew low over narrowed eyes, and her tone was full of icy disdain—so much like their father’s it was eerie. “Volunteering at the local homeless shelter, and not falling out of some slutty girl’s bed?”