was smiling, his voice was light and teasing. She risked a brief glance at his face—there was a glint in his eyes.
Was he flirting with her?
But why?
He never flirted with her. Hell, he barely contained himself from ruffling her hair and patting her on the head on those rare occasions he was home and graced the rest of the house with his presence. Instead of being holed up behind closed doors, going for gold in the sexual Olympics.
He must be jet-lagged. And she was obviously delirious!
It would be foolish to read too much into any of these crazy last minutes.
Although dropping the towel just to wipe the smug smile off his face was exceedingly tempting.
She dropped her gaze instead. To the floor. Desperate to gain some composure.
Who knew she’d actually find her salvation?
She smiled and then squatted down, picking up two of her throw cushions and lobbing them at him. ‘These should do the trick.’
Adam caught them automatically as they hit him square in the chest. They’d been an irritation a couple of hours ago when he’d been trying to off load them so he could get horizontal as quickly as possible. Like an insurmountable mountain.
‘Look at that,’ he murmured, his gaze locking with hers. ‘They do serve a purpose.’
And then, his eyes never leaving her face, he rose in one fluid moment, one cushion clutched to his front, the other to his back.
Jess took a step back as his superior height overwhelmed her. At five-six in her bare feet she wasn’t exactly short—but she felt positively diminutive in the presence of his all-encompassing maleness.
‘Sweet dreams.’ He winked and turned on his heel, sauntering out.
Jess followed his retreat, amazed that somehow he still managed to look one hundred per cent male even with a purple cushion covering what she knew to be one hell of a swagger.
Not even her door shutting quietly, blocking her view, was going to be enough to erase that image from her brain. Groaning, her heart tripping, her hands trembling, Jess collapsed on her back on the bed.
She picked up her pillow and plonked it over her head. Adam’s edgy masculine scent filled her nostrils and she sucked in big, deep lungfuls of him. She threw it aside in disgust, rolling onto her stomach.
The same tantalising aroma wafted up from the sheet wrapping her in Adam.
She couldn’t decide if it was heaven or if it was hell.
She did know she was never going to wash these sheets. Ever again.
CHAPTER TWO
THE next morning Adam sat on his board out to sea with a line of other eager early morning surfers, waiting for the next wave to come in.
It was probably going to be a while.
The surf was non-existent. The ocean was flat and glassy, with just an occasional gentle swell bobbing him in the water.
But for Adam, surfing was about more than the waves. Sure, he liked the exhilaration of riding a monster wave as much as the next guy, but what he enjoyed most was this. The sense of stillness, of the world waking up, of being connected to the planet, in tune with its pulse.
The sun was rising rapidly in the sky behind him, spreading golden fingers over a still sleepy Coogee. It was already warm on his shoulders, shaping up to be another scorcher no doubt.
The light murmur of his fellow surfers melded perfectly with the distant sounds of the sea lapping against the beach.
Everything was as it should be.
Except for that damn image of Jess in nothing but a towel, with water droplets clinging to her skin, that had lodged itself stubbornly into his grey matter.
Prior to yesterday Adam had probably never given Jessica Donaldson a second thought. Sure, she was a nice enough kid but he doubted they’d ever said more than a handful of things to each other in the last three years.
Jess was just a friend of his sister’s who, along with Ellie and Tilly, had helped Ruby with the rent in his Hill St house.
Why had he never noticed her incredible bone structure before? Or how hot that little pink mouth was?
Because.
Adam gave himself a shake.
Because she was barely out of her teens, that’s why! Twenty-three, for crying out loud.
The only other time he’d dated a woman in her early twenties, Francine, it had been an unmitigated disaster—one that he had no intention of repeating.
Once bitten, twice smart.
Younger women were complicated. They had romantic stars in their eyes. They wanted things. Like declarations of love.
They were needy. He didn’t do needy.
He did sophisticated. Worldly. Independent.
Women. Not girls.
And he wasn’t about to start just because he’d dreamed about Jess and that mouth all through his marathon eighteen-hour sleep.
He felt things begin to stir beneath his boardies as they had earlier, prodding him from his slumber, and he looked up at the headlands either side of Coogee bay, determined to distract himself. To focus on something—anything—other than Jess.
He could see a couple at the monument to the Bali bombing victims and further back towards the front a lone jogger pounded the footpath, the majestic Norfolk pines forming a dramatic backdrop. His gaze lifted higher, to the hilly suburban sprawl behind and the Eastern Beaches Hospital perched atop, dominating it all. He could even see his house from here, his eyes easily locating the double-storey monstrosity badly in need of some TLC.
His gaze fell on Jess’s window and he found himself wondering if she was still asleep.
Did she sleep nude, like he did?
Had it been her plan yesterday to shimmy the towel off her body and just drop straight into bed?
He closed his eyes as a vision of him brushing his mouth across a bare shoulder blade assailed him. Her skin would be cool from the kiss of the air-con and he could almost feel the tiny hairs feathering her skin brush his mouth as they stood to attention beneath his lips.
His groin stirred again and he almost groaned out loud. This was madness!
What he really needed was a date. Obviously it had been too long if he was lusting after a woman—a young woman—twelve years his junior.
And it’d been a long time since he’d had any female company.
His
