enough that they might have pushed her out so she’d find time for a social life again?
Her family had been known to stick their noses into each other’s lives at times. Lally had been guilty of it too. In a big, loving family that would always happen, and she’d had her share of them hinting that she could do with getting out more.
But they wouldn’t take it this far, would they? Of course they wouldn’t…
‘Lunch is almost ready now, if you want to take a seat in the dining room.’ Lally would far rather eat lunch than go on thinking about that topic. She gestured to the freshly polished dining-table. ‘Or we can eat outside, if you’d prefer? It’s frittata. I hope that’s okay.’
‘Inside will be fine, and I eat most things.’ He paused and the hint of a smile lifted the edges of his mouth. ‘No artichoke. Other than that, I’m very agreeable about food.’
‘That will make cooking for you a dream. I’d like to take advantage of the fresh markets for produce for a lot of our meals.’ She wanted to feed him on the freshest items available, because she thought it might help with whatever had been exhausting him—lack of sleep, long hours, book stress, whatever the problem. Even if it didn’t, it would put his body in a good place, health-wise.
Yes, fine, she was acting like a little mother. Why not, when she’d had a hundred or so relatives to practice those skills on? They all deserved to be loved to bits and looked after as much as possible, especially considering how much they’d had to put up with from her.
Not that she felt the need to earn their love. Well, that would be just silly, wouldn’t it? And she didn’t feel like a little mother; she felt like a determined housekeeper.
Lally turned the frittata onto a serving plate, carried it and the salad to the table she’d set, and took her seat. ‘I hope you’ll eat while the food is hot and at its best, and have as much as you want. I made plenty. I do have a bunch of messages from your phone, but I think they can all wait until after you’ve eaten.’
Now she sounded as though she was very generously allowing him to eat his own food, and making his work-related choices for him while she was at it. ‘What if your editor rings?’ Lally asked suddenly. ‘Or your agent?’
‘You’ll be able to tell if they need to speak to me urgently, otherwise they can wait.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘I’m too professional to ask you to dodge them on my behalf if they phone and then ask for a progress update—though there might be certain days when I’ll be tempted to do that if things keep going the way they have for the past few weeks.’
‘You can’t help it if you’re in the middle of a sticky patch with your muse,’ Lally declared. ‘These things happen. It must be quite amazing to be internationally famous too. You probably have fans chasing after you and everything. Lots of women—’
The words burst out of her and Lally’s face flooded with heat.
‘I can’t say I’ve been particularly chased, at least not to my knowledge.’ Cam drawled the words. He felt far too pleased that Lally’s words—when she’d got to the ‘women’ part of her statement—had sounded as though she was quite jealous at the thought of such a thing happening.
Two seconds later he realised that wasn’t exactly the response he should have to her. And he didn’t want women chasing him; he’d rather go and find them when he felt the need.
Cam helped himself to a piece of the frittata and some salad and took a first bite. The frittata was perfect, the accompanying salad the exact counterpoint for it; the zing of tangy dressing hit Cam’s tongue, completing the experience. ‘Did you make the dressing yourself? Where did you learn your cooking skills?’
‘I did make the dressing. I learned to cook from two parents who both love it, and do it very differently but equally as well.’ Lally’s smile softened at whatever memories were in her head. ‘What they didn’t actively teach me, I guess I’ve learned by observation anyway.’
She seemed to take her skill level as nothing out of the ordinary.
‘Your father runs a restaurant; I momentarily forgot that.’ She’d told him that at their interview, and Cam had spent a few moments piecing together her family history in his mind. Torres-Strait Aboriginal mother, Italian father; the surname of ‘Douglas’ suggested that her father might not be fully Italian.
‘Dad’s mother married a Scotsman, just to keep things interesting.’ Lally’s lovely smile lit her face again.
‘You have a diverse family tree.’ Cam returned the smile, and gestured to his plate. ‘The food is delicious, thank you. I think I’ve struck it lucky with you, Lally, if this meal and the work you’ve got through already are any indication.’
‘You’re welcome for all of it.’ Her skin didn’t show a blush. Yet somehow he suspected one had just happened—by the change to the sparkle in her eyes, perhaps?
What would she be like in the middle of passion?
Cam cut the thought off. The answer to that question was that it was not his business to wonder.
‘I’ve done as much work as I could this morning.’ Lally seemed flustered as she pulled the duties list from her pocket and flattened it on the table beside her plate. She glanced at it and raised her gaze to his face. ‘I’ll do all that I can to look after you, help you start to feel more rested and focus on what you need to do with your time.’
‘I appreciate that.’ Surely in another week or two he would get back to sleeping at least the four to four-and-a-half hours a night he usually got? Cam didn’t expect Lally to be able to do a thing about that. Why would she? All the experts had failed to give him any long-term solutions that didn’t involve knocking himself out at night with medications he didn’t want to let become a habit in his life.
‘I haven’t forgotten about book research.’ Her finger rested on a point on the list. ‘I’m ready to help you with that in any way required.’
‘I have a research project for you for after lunch, actually.’ Cam went on to explain what he needed. ‘I have two laptop computers. What I’d like you to do is use the second laptop and get the prohibition laws about using these substances in this state…’ He jotted the names of several chemical compounds onto the bottom of her list.
‘I’ll do the rest of the research myself. Some of it has to be handled carefully; I don’t want you dealing with anything that could be potentially dangerous to you.’ He paused. ‘At least I can still make forward progress with my lead character’s investigations and activities to some degree, even if other aspects of the story are being difficult.’
Lally’s eyes widened and her soft lips parted. ‘You take care with your research? You keep yourself safe?’ Her words were so genuine, filled with concern for him.
Cam got that strange feeling in his chest again. ‘Always. I always take care.’ He was even more determined to take care of her in this admittedly small way.
As their gazes met and held, Cam was very conscious of her.
She was conscious of him. It was there in her guarded expression, the rejection and the self-protectiveness in every line of her body, and didn’t fully manage to conceal the interest beneath.
They
