be fine. Go work, play, have fun.’
Callie intended to work. As for the fun and play, she didn’t dare associate those concepts with Archer.
Look what had happened the last time she’d done that.
* * *
Archer didn’t jerk women around, and after the way Callie had reacted to him yesterday he shouldn’t push her buttons. But that was exactly what he’d done in hiring the fire-engine red Roadster for their trip to Torquay.
She’d recognise the significance of the car, but would she call him on it?
By the tiny crease between her brows and her compressed lips as she stalked towards him, he doubted it.
The carefree, teasing girl he’d once known had disappeared behind this uptight, reserved shadow of her former self. What had happened to snuff the spark out?
‘Still travelling light?’ He held out his hand for her overnight bag.
She flung it onto the back seat in response.
‘Oo-kay, then. Guess it’s going to be a long trip.’
He glimpsed a flicker of remorse as she slid onto the passenger seat, her rigid back and folded arms indicative of her absolute reluctance to be here. To be anywhere near him.
It ticked him off.
They’d once been all over each other, laughing and chatting and touching, a hand-hold here, a thigh squeeze there. When she’d smiled at him he’d felt a buzz akin to riding the biggest tube.
But you walked away anyway.
That was all he needed. For his voice of reason to give him a kick in the ass too.
But she hadn’t been forthcoming during their meeting yesterday, and he’d be damned if he’d put up with her foul mood for the next week.
If he showed up at Trav’s wedding with her in this snit his mum would know Callie was a fake date and be inquisitive, effectively ruining his buffer zone.
Yeah, because that was the only reason he minded her mood...
He revved the engine, glanced over his shoulder and pulled into traffic. ‘You know it’s ninety minutes to Torquay, right?’
‘Yeah.’
Her glance barely flicked his way behind Audrey Hepburnesque sunglasses that conveniently covered half her face.
‘You planning on maintaining the long face the entire way? Do I need to resort to I-spy and guess the numberplate to get a laugh?’
‘I’m here to work—’
‘Bull.’
He swerved into a sidestreet, earning momentary whiplash and several honks for his trouble.
‘What the heck—?’
He kissed her, pouring all his frustration with her frosty behaviour into the kiss.
She resisted at first, but he wouldn’t back off. He might have done this to prove a point, but once his lips touched hers he remembered—in excruciating detail—what it had been like to kiss her.
And he wanted more.
He moved his mouth across hers—light, teasing, taunting her to capitulate.
She remained tight-lipped—until his hand caressed the nape of her neck and slid into her hair, his fingertips brushing her scalp in the way he knew she liked.
She gave a little protesting groan and he sensed the moment of surrender when she placed her palm on his chest and half-heartedly pushed. Her lips softened a second later.
He didn’t hesitate, taking advantage of her compliance by deepening the kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth to find hers, challenging her to deny them, confident she wouldn’t.
For what seemed like a glorious eternity they made out like a besotted couple. Then he eased his hand out of her hair, his lips lingering on hers for a bittersweet second before he sat back.
What he saw shocked him more than the rare times he’d been ragdolled by a gnarly wave.
The old Callie was back.
Her brown eyes sparkled, her lush mouth curved smugly at the corners and she glowed.
Hell, he’d wanted to get her to lighten up. He hadn’t counted on the winded feeling now making his lungs seize.
Being wiped out by a killer wave was easier than this.
But in the few seconds it took him to come up with something casual to say Callie closed off. Her glow gave way to a frown and shadows effectively cloaked the sparkle.
‘Happy you sneaked a kiss for old times’ sake? Did you want to prove something?’
He shook his head, still befuddled by the strength of his reaction to a kiss that should have meant nothing.
‘I wanted to make a mockery of your “just work” declaration.’
She quirked an elegant brow. ‘And did you think one little kiss would do that?’
He hadn’t. Been thinking, that was. Like feeling the overwhelming rush he got from riding the perfect set on a huge swell he’d done the spontaneous thing. And now he had to live with the consequences: working alongside Callie for the next seven days while trying to forget how incredible she looked all mussed and vulnerable, and how she tasted—like chocolate and coffee.
‘I guess I’m just annoyed by your attitude and I wanted to rattle you.’
As much as it turned out she still rattled him.
He expected her to bristle, to retreat behind a mask of cool indifference. He didn’t expect her to unravel before his eyes.
‘Hell, are you crying?’
He reached out to hold her, but stopped when she scooted away.
She dashed a hand across her eyes before turning to stare out of the window, her profile stoic and tugging at his heartstrings.
‘It’s not you. I’m just juggling some other stuff, and it’s taking a toll even though I have a handle on it.’
He’d never heard her sound so soft, so vulnerable, and he clamped down on the urge to haul her into his arms. Mixed messages be damned.
‘Anything I can do to help?’
‘Keep being a smartass. That should make me laugh.’
The quiver in her voice had him reaching across, gently cupping her chin and turning her towards him.
‘I can back off if you’re going through stuff. Cut the jokes. No kissing. That kind of thing.’
She
