three of them on the south side of the reserve. From what he could tell, she ate, breathed and slept Plum Pines. He glanced around. Which seemed odd when she’d clearly taken few pains to make her cottage cosy and comfortable.
‘Are you sure about this plan, Dylan?’
He turned back, frowning at her unease. ‘What are you worried about?’
One slim shoulder lifted. ‘That I’ll embarrass you.’ She gestured for him to take a seat on the sofa. She planted herself on a hard wooden chair at the little dining table pressed hard up against one wall.
She moistened her lips and he realised she wore a pale mocha-coloured lipstick. Desire arrowed straight to his groin. Gritting his teeth, he did his best to ignore it. For pity’s sake, he’d warned himself off her—that should have been that!
He gritted his teeth harder. Apparently not. But, while he might find her attractive, he didn’t have to act like a teenager. He needed to put her at her ease—not crank up the tension further.
‘I can’t imagine how you think you’ll embarrass me.’
‘I’m... I’m not much of a talker, but I know I need to keep up my share of the conversation tonight.’
His heart stilled before surging against the walls of his ribs.
She lifted her hands, only to let them drop back to her lap. ‘I’ve been trying to come up with five fool-proof topics of conversation so that...’ She shrugged again. ‘So that I’m pulling my weight.’
In that moment he wanted nothing more than to tug her into his arms and hug her. He had a feeling that would be the last thing she’d want. He contented himself with leaning towards her instead. She wore a soft floral scent and he pulled it as far into his lungs as he could.
‘I don’t expect you to become a sudden chatterbox. It’s not who you are. I don’t want you to change. I like you just the way you are. So does Carla.’
Was she worried that the better they got to know her the less they’d like her? The thought disturbed him.
‘It’s just...you and Carla are so bubbly and fun. I should hate to put a dampener on that.’
She thought he was fun? A smile tugged through him. ‘You mean Carla and I are noisy chatterboxes who dominate the conversation and won’t let anyone else get a word in edgewise.’
Her eyes widened. ‘I did not say that!’
He burst out laughing. After a moment she rolled her eyes, resting back in her seat.
‘You must’ve worked out by now that Carla and I love an audience.’
She gave a non-committal, ‘Hmm...’
‘And you have to remember Thierry will be there, and no one could accuse call him of liveliness.’
‘I’m not sure I want to be compared to Thierry.’
He tried a different tack. ‘How did the school group go this afternoon?’
Her face lit up. ‘They had a great time. It’s so funny to watch them the first time they touch a snake or a lizard.’
He picked up the book sitting on her coffee table—a recent autobiography of a famous comedian. ‘Good?’
‘Yes, very. She’s as funny on the page as she is on the television.’
He set the book back down. ‘Did you hear about that prank the engineering students at the university pulled with the garden gnomes?’
She sent him an odd look. ‘I saw the photos in the paper. It was rather cheeky...but funny.’
‘What’s a dish you’ve always meant to cook but never have?’
Her frown deepened. ‘Um...veal scaloppini.’
‘I couldn’t help noticing that these cottages don’t have any off-street parking.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘And...?’
‘And I didn’t see a car parked out the front, which leads me to conclude that you don’t have a car.’
She folded her arms. ‘That’s correct.’
‘Are you planning to get one?’
‘Maybe.’
‘When?’
Her forehead creased. ‘What is this, Dylan? Twenty Questions?’
‘There you go. There’s your five topics of conversation, should you need them—a funny incident at work, a book recommendation, a local news story, does anyone have a recipe for veal scaloppini they’d recommend, and I’m thinking of getting a small to medium-sized hatchback—what should I get?’
She pushed her hair back behind her ears, all but glaring at him, before folding her arms again. ‘How do you know I want a hatchback?’
‘You’re young and you don’t have kids, which means you don’t have to settle for a station wagon yet.’
She unfolded her arms, but then didn’t seem to know what to do with them. She settled on clasping them in her lap. And then she smiled—really smiled—and it lit her up from the inside out. Her dark eyes danced and he felt a kick inside that should have felled him.
‘Five topics of conversation—just like that.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘You managed it effortlessly. How can you make it so easy?’
‘Probably the same way you can identify the difference between a bush orchid and a noxious weed.’ He grinned, referencing an incident earlier in the week when he’d set about eradicating the wrong plant.
She continued to stare at him as if he were amazing, and he had the disconcerting feeling that he could bask in that admiration forever. He shrugged. ‘Practice. In my line of work I have to talk to a lot of people. Though, if the truth be told, the sad fact is that I have a talent for frivolity and nonsense.’
‘Good conversation is neither frivolous nor nonsensical.’
He waggled his eyebrows. ‘It should be if you’re doing it right.’
She didn’t laugh. She met his gaze, her face sober. ‘It’s not nonsense to put someone at ease.’
His gut clenched up all over again. If he continued to put her at her ease would she eventually let him kiss her?
He stiffened. He and Mia were not going to kiss. They weren’t going to do anything except find out if Thierry deserved Carla. Full stop.
This was nothing more than a case of opposites attracting. He and Mia were too different—too mismatched—to make things work in the long term. And he refused to do anything to hurt her in the short term. She’d been through enough.
* * *
By the end of dinner Dylan could cheerfully have strangled Thierry.
