Kitabı oku: «Australia: Bundles of Joy», sayfa 4
His caller that night had been reaching out to him, probably plucking up what meagre supply of courage she possessed to ring him, and what had he done? He had given the girl a two-minute quick fix, incorporating the standard line about joining a gym, exercising more, eating less and making new friends.
Keely’s heart had bled for the girl. She’d been there, done that and burnt the T-shirt a long time ago. Hearing Lachlan’s trite advice, no matter how good his intentions, had sparked her into reaching for her mobile and giving him the verbal spray he’d deserved.
As for her reaction to his diet comment last night, guys with buffed bods who looked as if they’d stepped off the cover of a magazine shouldn’t go there. Ever.
Logically, she shouldn’t be attracted to him. She’d never measure up. Physically, she wanted to get as close as she could and stay there for the remainder of her assignment.
‘Hey, I won’t make you jump off any cliffs or anything. You can just sit back and watch.’ Concern had replaced interest in his eyes and she wrenched her attention back to the present, slamming the door on her self-esteem issues, wishing she could lock it and throw away the key for ever.
‘Fine. I’ll be in touch. Now, I really have to get back to it.’
Though she wasn’t fine. Not by a long shot.
And she had a feeling that the more time she spent in Lachlan’s company, the more the protective wall she’d built around her heart could crumble, one brick at a time.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘It doesn’t matter if he has two left feet as long as he’s an expert at horizontal folk-dancing.’
Chrystal, serial man-eater.
‘YOU two are dating,’ Tahlia muttered under her breath as she stretched forward, her head almost touching her knee.
‘Spending time together as part of a work assignment doesn’t constitute dating,’ Keely said, wishing the Pilates class could go on for ever. That way, she wouldn’t have to think about Lachlan Brant and the chaos he’d turned her life into. Concentrating on her aching muscles proved an excellent distraction, for all of two seconds.
Emma stood in one smooth movement and held out her hand to pull Keely up. ‘But it’s more than work. What about the flirting? And all this time you’ll be spending together as research? Don’t forget it was his idea, even though you were going to suggest it anyway.’
Keely had been pondering the very same question all day and, though she’d managed to finish the bulk of her work, her mind had constantly drifted to Lachlan and the way he made her feel in his presence—uncertain, excited, like being on a rollercoaster and not knowing when the next exhilarating plummet would be.
She’d tried to ignore her erratic hormones and focus on work. Nadia had finally announced her pregnancy and Keely was sure it was no coincidence that Raquel had entrusted this account to her. If she succeeded in satisfying Lachlan Brant as a client, she had a sneaking suspicion the promotion was hers.
‘It’s just that. Research. I learn more about the man; his website will reflect my efforts. Obviously, he wants it to be top-notch too; that’s why he came up with the idea for me to spend time with him.’
Tahlia finished her stretch and stood, taking a deep slug from her water bottle. ‘I know this promotion is important to you but don’t kid yourself. This man has the hots for you and, if I’m not mistaken, the feeling is entirely mutual.’
Keely hated it when her friends were right.
‘So? What’s wrong with having a little fun? It’s not going to affect my work. In fact, it’s going to enhance it.’
Emma lifted her long blonde ponytail, draped a towel across her neck and smiled. ‘Sweetie, there’s nothing wrong with having fun. I just think there’s more to it than that. If the guy was only interested in a quick roll in the sack, he wouldn’t be going to all this trouble.’
Expecting an argument from the ever-practical Tahlia, Keely looked at her.
To her surprise, Tahlia shrugged. ‘Sorry, I have to agree with the romantic one on this.’
‘Great,’ Keely said, ‘that’s all I need. You two agreeing for once.’
‘We’re just being objective.’ Emma handed her a sports drink and Keely drank deeply, hoping the electrolytes would help replenish some of the brain cells she seemed to have lost since she’d first laid eyes on Lachlan.
‘Which is probably difficult in your case, seeing as he keeps finding excuses to see you. Must be terribly distracting.’ Tahlia grinned and tossed her empty drink bottle into a nearby bin.
‘Remind me never to tell you two another detail about my love life.’ Keely slung her gym bag over her shoulder and headed for the showers.
‘Love life?’ Emma pounced on the words once they left her mouth as the girls fell into step beside her.
Keely bit back a groan. She shouldn’t blame her friends for encouraging her. She was doing enough fairy tale building in her own head.
‘Okay, you got me. I like the guy. He’s perfect. There. Satisfied?’
‘Not as much as you’re going to be if Lucky Lachlan has his way with you over the weekend away,’ Tahlia said, trying her best to look innocent while holding the door to the locker room open.
Emma giggled and Keely rolled her eyes, a small part of her hoping that her friend’s prediction would come true.
Lucy’s e-mail was the first Keely opened on Friday morning and, unfortunately, it didn’t help her frame of mind.
To: KeelyR@WWWDesigns.com
From: Lucy-PA@WWWDesigns.com
Subject: The Perfect Man
K,
Have completed formulating quiz for Flirt site.
Keely’s Collection was inspirational 4 the perfect man quiz.
Thought U might like to check out my work?
Maybe apply questions to LB, your PM, and get the answers back to me?
Luce
She stifled a groan. Not Lucy too! Emma and Tahlia egging her on were bad enough, now she had her trusty assistant on the case.
Quickly scanning the list of quiz questions, she couldn’t help but chuckle.
The Perfect Man’s most desirable asset is:
a) great pecs
b) great biceps
c) great butt
d) great ‘package’
Does the Perfect Man prefer:
a) boxers
b) jocks
c) thongs
d) free-balling it
The Perfect Man looks best in:
a) a suit
b) jeans
c) underwear
d) nothing at all
The Perfect Man’s best accessory is:
a) his cuff-links
b) his Palm Pilot
c) his tie-pin
d) you
Though she was tempted to answer’d’ to all of the above for a laugh, she typed a quick response.
To: Lucy-PA@WWWDesigns.com From: KeelyR@WWWDesigns.com Subject: The PM fallacy
Luce,
In my case, no such thing.
Nice work, though. Perhaps applying these questions to Aidan might be more appropriate?
Isn’t he your PM?
K
For someone who loved her scrapbook, and who had enjoyed jotting down quotes from her favourite people her entire life, she suddenly wished she’d ditched Keely’s Collection for a more practical guide. Perhaps something like Real Men Aren’t Perfect. Evaluate every relationship you’ve ever had and find out why.
She’d devised her checklist as a tongue-in-cheek exercise when dumped by Ray all those years ago, though she’d forgotten to apply it when Jon had come along four years later and she’d really fallen hard. Maybe if she’d remembered it she wouldn’t have gone through the heartache of losing a man she’d thought she loved at the time. She’d also realised that if a guy who’d openly professed his love for her could then run out on her after discovering her inability to have kids—then any man could.
Now, the fictitious man she’d described in her list had walked into her life. From his dark wavy hair and bluer-than-blue eyes to his fondness for doughnuts, he appeared perfect in every way.
And what was she going to do about it?
‘Damned if I know,’ she muttered as she scanned a few inter-office memos.
Lucy’s response came in just as she’d deleted the last one.
To: KeelyR@WWWDesigns.com
From: Lucy-PA@WWWDesigns.com
Subject: R all the good ones taken?
K,
Aidan is an accountant, therefore can’t be PM material
Luce
Shaking her head, she wondered when Lucy was going to wake up, take off her rose-coloured glasses—literally—and take a good look at what was right in front of her. Aidan seemed an ideal match for her and, though he appeared conservative at first glance, she knew he harboured a wild streak. After all, she’d seen the car he drove, and a maroon convertible sports car with cream leather seats didn’t seem too boring to her.
Add to that the abseiling equipment she’d glimpsed in the rear seat and there were definite possibilities there.
The guy seemed to have it all—good looks, a great job, he was polite and genuinely interested in Lucy. What more did the girl need?
Promising herself this would be the last e-mail she sent before settling down to work for the day, she responded.
To: Lucy-PA@WWWDesigns.com
From: KeelyR@WWWDesigns.com
Subject: Perish the thought!
Luce,
That makes him into figures. Particularly yours if
I’m not mistaken.
Your PM is due in today.
Y don’t U follow up?
K
(PS Get back to work!)
Taking a leaf out of her own book, she clicked on the icon to bring up Lachlan’s website and hoped she could focus on work and not on the weekend ahead. Though the logical part of her brain knew that spending time with Lachlan at his beach house was work, she had a sneaking suspicion that her romantic side was telling her otherwise.
Keely had watched Lachlan ride monstrous waves perched on an impossibly small piece of fibreglass for the last hour, her heart pounding most of the time.
However, it was nothing compared to the way it thundered in her chest as he jogged up the beach towards her.
The water-slicked wetsuit moulded to him like a second skin, delineating every last muscle of his toned body as he carried the surfboard under one arm as if it weighed nothing at all. He’d run a hand through his hair, sending dark spikes in all directions, while the deep blue of his eyes reflected the cloudless Torquay sky.
As he got closer his boyish grin lit a fire within her, its heat licking along every nerve-ending in her body, heightening her awareness till nothing else existed but this man, this moment.
‘So, what do you think?’ He planted the surfboard in the sand and leaned against it, looking like an irresistible advertisement for the sport.
‘I think you’re nuts for balancing on that little board and inviting the sharks to nibble at your toes.’
His smile broadened. ‘Care to try?’
‘The balancing or the nibbling?’ The words popped out before she could stop them and his smile turned to laughter.
‘I didn’t know you had a foot fetish. Lucky I’m a psychologist.’
She rolled her eyes, enjoying the light-hearted banter they’d been trading all day. The drive from Melbourne to Bell’s Beach had taken just over an hour, and her initial nervousness at spending so much time confined in his car had vanished as they’d made small talk.
‘Then colour me crazy.’
He squatted down beside her, effectively blocking out the sun, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Care for an in-depth one-on-one consultation?’
His voice dropped lower, its tone seductively husky, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he wasn’t offering her a professional evaluation.
She leaned back on her outstretched arms in an attempt to put some distance between them. If she’d been hot before, having him this close ensured she entered meltdown.
‘Maybe I’m too complicated for you to figure out?’
‘Maybe I like a challenge?’
‘Is that what I am to you?’
He shook his head, showering her in a fine spray of seawater droplets, a welcome relief of cool against her fiery cheeks. Whatever made her think she could match wits with this man, trade quips with him like an experienced flirt?
Though she prided herself on being a savvy city girl, she was still an inexperienced amateur when it came to the male sex.
‘You’re an intriguing woman, Keely Rhodes. One I’d like to get to know a whole lot better.’ He tilted her chin up and brushed his thumb along her bottom lip, his gaze locked on hers.
‘We’re here to work, not socialise,’ she blurted out, eager to say anything to distract herself from the hypnotic intensity of his stare or the way her lips still tingled after his brief contact. ‘Isn’t that what you had in mind when we initially discussed this?’
She expected him to break eye contact, look guilty and lie through his teeth.
Instead, he surprised her.
‘Why can’t we do both? I thought you’d gain valuable knowledge for the website by spending time with me. You know, give it a personal touch.’ He captured her hand in his, intertwining fingers in a possessive gesture that quietly thrilled her. ‘However, I admit to wanting more from the weekend.’
‘I’m not going to sleep with you.’ She pronounced it more as a statement to convince herself rather than a warning to him.
Instead of dropping her hand, he tightened his hold. ‘Wow, some guy really did a number on you, didn’t he?’
To her annoyance, she blushed. Now wasn’t the time or place to talk about her disastrous history with men, her self-esteem problem and the ensuing damage it had caused. If she got started, he’d be compelled to charge her by the hour! Besides, psychologists hadn’t been her favourite people following long and tiresome hours spent in counselling and, though her hormones were clouding her judgement when it came to this guy, she had no intention of losing her wits completely and trusting him.
‘I’d rather not talk about it.’
To her relief, he nodded. ‘Fine, then I’ll talk and you listen. I’m not one of your slick city guys. Sure, I like Melbourne and its vibe, but I’m a country boy at heart. I love the fresh air, the bush, the ocean.’ He gestured to the vista behind him as if reinforcing his words. ‘I’m not into lies or pretence. I value honesty above all else, and when I like something I acknowledge it.’
Rather than soothing her, his words sliced into her heart. Honesty? Great. What would he say if she revealed her secret to him?
Which one? a tiny voice in her head prompted—the fact that you heckled him and slandered his professional character or the one you use to push away every man who tries to get close to you?
‘And I like you. That’s what this is all about.’
She swallowed, buoyed by his refreshing attitude and terrified beyond belief. No man had ever been that up-front with her. And it scared her. A lot.
Searching for the right words to deflect his attention—which she liked way too much—she bumbled along in predictable fashion. ‘I’m flattered, but right now I need to focus on my career. I haven’t got time for anything else in my life. I’m thinking business and you’re—’
‘Thinking pleasure?’ he interrupted, raising her hand to his mouth and nibbling on her fingertips with small, precise nips.
‘Mmm …’ She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, instantly forgetting all the reasons why she shouldn’t be doing this.
‘Stop analysing and just feel,’ he murmured, the soft touch of his mouth against her palm sending bolts of electricity shooting up her arm.
Suddenly her voice of reason gave her a big, loud wake-up call—so much for business—and she pulled her hand away before he could undermine her stance to keep things between them strictly professional any more than he already had. ‘That’s rich coming from you, the king of analysis.’
He shrugged. ‘Work’s work. You and me, that’s something else entirely.’
She took a deep breath, hoping a lungful of sea air would clear her mind, for the longer he stared at her as if she was the only woman in the world for him, the harder it was for her to respond.
‘I’m not sure what you want from me,’ she said, making a lightning-quick decision to tell him exactly how she was feeling. He wanted honesty? She’d give it to him, at least for the moment.
‘I want a website.’ He smiled, obviously trying to lighten the mood.
‘And?’ she persisted, unable to shake the feeling that they’d reached an important crossroad in their brief relationship. Working relationship, that is.
She didn’t have time for mix-ups or games. If he wanted more from her than a fabulous website, now was the time for him to speak up. And for her to run for the hills as she usually did.
His grip on her hand tightened. ‘I want to get to know you better. Nothing more, nothing less. Think you can handle that?’
‘As long as we don’t lose sight of the real reason I’m here. And that’s to work.’
Despite her false bravado, a small part of her was scared out of its wits.
She could listen to her self-talk about He’s work, he’s a means to an end, he’s the best opportunity for that promotion you’ve ever had.
However, what would happen if she switched off the rational, clear-thinking voice inside her head and followed her heart for once?
While spending the weekend away, with him in her face all the time, it didn’t bear thinking about.
CHAPTER SIX
‘Is a sensitive, considerate man: a) a myth, b) an oxymoron, c) a moron?’
Lucy, looking for Mr Right in all the wrong places.
LACHLAN flipped the steaks on the barbecue and watched Keely rustle up a salad through the kitchen window. Even with a slight frown marring her brow as she concentrated on getting the right mix of olive oil, lemon and balsamic vinegar, she looked beautiful.
He’d had a hard time concentrating on riding the waves earlier that afternoon, his mind wandering to the woman sitting on the pristine sand, watching him. He’d almost been wiped out several times but had rallied at the last moment, only to be wiped out in earnest when he’d finished surfing and seen the look in her eyes as he jogged up the beach towards her.
She’d looked at him like a woman starved, with her eye on the entrée, main course and dessert all rolled into one. He’d been flattered. Hell, he’d been ready to rip off his wetsuit and take her right then and there in the sand, discomfort be damned.
However, Keely had secrets, and not just the one about her being his late-night heckler. He’d glimpsed vulnerability, uncertainty, and what he could almost label fear in her eyes whenever he mentioned his interest in her.
Not that he’d pushed too hard yet. He wasn’t a complete fool. Sure, he wanted to get to know her better, but he had a feeling that if he rushed her she would bolt quicker than his mum had at the first offer from one of her numerous lovers.
‘By the look on your face, this barbecuing business is serious stuff.’
Quashing the sharp stab of pain that memories of his traitorous mother never failed to raise, he brandished the stainless steel tongs at her. ‘It is. Wouldn’t want you to complain about the rump being too rare.’
To his delight, she sent a pointed look at his butt and raised an eyebrow. ‘Nothing wrong with a bit of rare rump. It’s pretty hard to find these days.’
He laughed and wiggled the piece of anatomy she was eyeing. ‘Don’t go getting any ideas to sink your teeth into this just yet.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes, picking up the tongs and aiming a pinch his way. ‘I’m very selective with my rump. It takes a lot of handling and careful weighing before I select the best piece.’
He sidestepped the tongs and made a grab for them in one swift movement. ‘Glad to hear it. Now, if you don’t mind, this rump is ready.’ He gestured to the grill before filling a platter with two steaks, several prawn skewers and corn on the cob.
‘I’m starving.’ She reached for the plate, her hand brushing his, and for a split second when he raised his eyes to meet hers he read desire.
Or maybe it was a reflection of his rampant need mirrored there?
Rather than give in to the impulse to ditch the plate and haul her into his arms, he used every inch of willpower to step away and keep his response light.
‘Good. I’m famous for my culinary skills.’
She followed him into the kitchen and the intensity of the previous moment dwindled away till he wondered if it had been a figment of his imagination.
‘Is there anything you’re not good at?’ She placed the salad and herb bread on the table next to the mixed grill while he poured the merlot. ‘Because, from where I’m sitting, you’re almost too good to be true.’
He paused, surprised by her swift change in mood from playful to serious. In the past, he’d been labelled with the tag most guys hated, the dreaded ‘nice’, though the women he’d dated hadn’t seemed to mind. In fact, he’d been complimented on his manners and the way he’d treated them in general. It hadn’t been his fault those relationships had failed. Supposedly, nice guys always finished last, and the women he’d been involved with had seemed to reiterate the fact.
He smiled and raised his wine glass to her. ‘Give me a few hours. I’m sure I’ll think of something.’
She clinked glasses with him, her eyes glittering in the muted light. ‘My friends have labelled you Mr Perfect.’
‘You’ve been talking about me with your friends?’
This was good. Very good. That meant she was more interested than she let on, though he wondered about the ‘perfect’ tag. No way could he live up to those expectations.
Despite their instant, intense attraction, she hardly knew him, so what had he done to deserve the accolade?
‘I might’ve vaguely mentioned something to them, you being a new client and all.’ She speared a prawn and waved her fork around as if her comment meant nothing. ‘Though I wouldn’t read too much into it.’
‘And here I was thinking you might be falling for my charm.’
She chewed and swallowed before answering, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth. ‘Sorry to disappoint. Maybe you need to brush up on your technique?’
He liked the switch back to playful and he fully intended to keep the mood light for the rest of the night.
‘Oh, I fully intend to.’ He reached across and ran a fingertip across her bottom lip, watching her eyes widen, the dark pools tempting enough for any man to lose himself in their depths. ‘How do you think I’m doing so far?’
He could’ve sworn her lip trembled beneath his light touch before she leaned back slightly and broke the contact. ‘Needs some work but you’ve got potential.’
‘Thanks. That’s all the encouragement I need.’
He stared at her over his wine glass, trying to gauge her reaction to his comment. He’d made his intentions more than clear over the course of the day, and if she opted out now he’d be disappointed.
She reached over and lightly tapped his glass. ‘Good luck, Doc. With me, you’re going to need it.’
‘Sounds like a challenge.’
She laughed, a light-hearted sound that warmed his heart. It had been too long since he’d unwound in the company of a beautiful woman, especially one who sparked his interest on many levels. ‘Why do all men get that gleam in their eye at the thought of a challenge?’
‘Because it brings out our competitive side.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Men!’
Enjoying their teasing, he decided to push his luck. ‘Speaking of my Y chromosome, when am I going to see you in a bikini? After all, we’re at one of the best beaches in the world, and members of the weaker sex such as me look forward to seeing the latest in surf fashion.’
And, just like that, the shutters descended over her eyes, cloaking them in a haze of emotion he could only label as disappointment.
‘Dream on.’ Though the corners of her mouth tilted up in a tight smile, the action was far from a happy gesture.
Okay, so she wasn’t big on bikinis. Maybe he’d try a different tack to lighten the moment. ‘Hey, can’t blame a guy for trying. With a body like yours, seems a shame not to show it off.’
If the shutters had descended seconds earlier, this time the blinds well and truly snapped shut. She shrugged and toyed with the napkin at the side of her plate. ‘Sorry to disillusion you, but remember those old neck-to-knee swimsuits? They’re skimpy compared to mine.’
She managed a short laugh but it didn’t fool him. He’d made her uncomfortable and, once again, she had him confused. This Jekyll and Hyde thing she had going on was frustrating the hell out of him and putting a real dampener on his eagerness to get to know her better.
Keen to defuse the tension that suddenly enveloped them, he raised his wine glass to her. ‘I’ve always stuck by the more is less theory, so I look forward to seeing it. Now, let’s eat.’
However, as he passed her the salad he had the distinct impression that eating was the last activity she wanted to do and, for the second time in as many minutes, wondered what deep, dark secrets Keely Rhodes harboured.
Keely trailed her fingers over the book spines, reading the titles but not really absorbing them. If she’d been nervous earlier, it was nothing compared to now. Dinner had been a breeze, with Lachlan switching to small talk after their initial hiccup over his bikini joke and she’d soon relaxed.
However, she’d known it wouldn’t last, and as the evening drew to a close the butterflies in her stomach took flight. Though he’d deposited her overnight bag in the spare room when they’d arrived at his beach house, she knew that didn’t necessarily mean she would be sleeping in there.
She hadn’t been this attracted to a man before, and though she continued focusing on work—apart from her earlier lapse into flirt mode while he barbecued—her mind kept drifting to fantasies of getting intimate in the bedroom.
He hadn’t helped matters much, stripping out of that wetsuit back at the beach and asking her to hold his towel up as a shield from prying eyes as he changed. The only problem with that was her eyes had been the ones doing most of the prying! Though she’d done her best to avert her gaze, she was only human and couldn’t help but take a peek.
And, boy, had it been worth it!
An expanse of tanned skin covered rippling muscles that belonged on an elite athlete rather than a psychologist who surfed part-time. And that butt …
She was sure the towel had slipped a notch as her hands shook while she checked out the doc’s hidden talents.
‘See anything that interests you?’
She jumped as he entered the lounge room, knocking half a dozen hardback novels off the shelf in the process.
Rather than rushing to her aid, as she’d expected him to do, he chuckled and sat down. ‘I’d offer to help, but one concussion a week is more than enough for me.’
‘Very funny.’ She bent to pick up the books, wondering if she’d ever be cured of her clumsiness. The way he intruded on her thoughts constantly, she doubted it. ‘Thanks for dinner, by the way. It was delicious.’
‘No problem. Wait till you see what I’ve got for dessert.’
She almost upended the books a second time. So much for putting a dampener on her imagination. With his words, she conjured up an instant vivid image of strawberries, whipped cream and the two of them sharing dessert … in very inventive ways!
‘I haven’t really got a sweet tooth,’ she said, aiming for nonchalant when she knew she could easily forgo the edible dessert in favour of something much more enticing—like him on a platter.
‘Couldn’t be weight-related.’
And, just like that, the cosy atmosphere shattered.
Thankful he couldn’t see her face as she rearranged the shelf, she swallowed the lump of emotion that lodged in her throat, mentally kicking herself for believing a guy like Lachlan could be different.
Every man she’d ever known had been obsessed about looks and weight, often making jokes about ‘fat chicks’ who didn’t care about their appearance, or chuckling over advertisements for weight loss centres. She’d learned to steel herself against their cruel judgements, despite the urge to smack them silly.
As for taking a swipe at her own eating habits, only one guy she’d casually dated had ever made that mistake—and she’d let him have it, after accidentally spilling her wine over his crotch.
Lachlan had made several remarks about her body since they’d met and, though he probably saw them as innocuous, she knew what they really were—a sign that he was just like the rest of the guys she’d ever known, hung-up over looks and little else. Not to mention a clear indication she shouldn’t get involved, no matter how much her body kept telling her otherwise.
He didn’t pick up on her stiffening or, if he did, he didn’t let on. ‘You don’t need to worry about that, you look great. Trust me, you’ll love this.’
His qualifier didn’t help. What if she didn’t look great? Would he even give her the time of day? She doubted it. No male had, not till she’d shed half her bodyweight and almost died in the process.
As for trust, she’d believed in it too many times to count and had been let down every time. People, especially men, were notorious for saying the T word and then doing their best to give you reasons to mistrust them.
Lighten up. Before he takes his business and your chance at promotion elsewhere.
Taking a steadying breath, she turned to face him. ‘What is it?’
‘Close your eyes and let me guide you to it.’
‘This better be good,’ she said, allowing him to guide her through the room and out the door. When in actual fact she felt like bolting through it and not looking back.
‘Oh, it’s better than good.’
His hands were lightly resting on her hips as he gently propelled her forwards, and her skin fairly sizzled where he touched her. Damn her hormones! One minute she thought he was an insensitive clod, the next she wanted to jump him. She needed to get a grip on her wayward emotions—and fast—before she got a grip on him.
