we’ll be doing anything about it.’
She expected him to ask why. She expected him to undermine her rationale with charm. Instead he stopped touching her, a shadow skating across his eyes before he nodded.
‘You’re right; we’ve got a ton of work to do. Best we don’t get distracted.’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ she said, struggling to keep the disappointment out of her voice.
But something must have alerted him to the raging indecisive battle she waged inside—flee or fling—because he added, ‘But once work is out of the way who knows what we’ll get up to?’
She rolled her eyes, not dignifying him with a response, and his chuckles taunted her as she headed for the sanctity of her room.
She needed space. She needed time out. She needed to remember why getting involved with a nomad charmer again was a bad idea.
Because right now she was in danger of forgetting.
* * *
After what he’d been through with his family, Archer hated dishonesty.
Which made what he was doing with Callie highly unpalatable. He needed to tell her about being his date for the wedding pronto.
They’d arrived at the house three hours ago, and she’d made herself scarce on the pretext of unpacking and doing some last-minute research.
He knew better.
That impulsive kiss in the car might have been to prove a point but somewhere along the way it had morphed into something bigger than both of them.
He’d been so damn angry at her perpetual iciness he’d wanted to shock the truth out of her: the spark was still there.
Oh, it was there all right, and interestingly his little experiment had gone awry. He’d been shocked too.
He’d asked her to accompany him here for work—and the wedding. Nothing more, nothing less.
That kiss? Major reality check.
For there was something between them—something latent and simmering, just waiting to ignite.
Hell.
Way to go with complicating matters.
Best to take a step back and simplify—starting with divulging his addendum to her week-long stay.
He knocked twice at her bedroom door. ‘Lunch is ready.’
The door creaked open and she stuck her head around it. What did she think? He’d catch sight of the bed and want to ravish her on the spot?
Hmmm...good point.
‘Raincheck?’
He exhaled in exasperation. ‘I need my marketing manager in peak form, which means no skipping meals—no matter how distasteful you find my company.’
‘It’s not that.’ She blushed. ‘I tend to grab snatched meals whenever I remember, so I don’t do a sit-down lunch very often.’
‘Lucky for you we’re not sitting down.’ He snagged her hand, meeting the expected resistance when she pulled back. He tugged harder. ‘It’s no big deal, Cal. Fish and chips on the beach. You can have your head buried behind your computer again in thirty minutes.’
Her expression softened. ‘Give me five minutes and I’ll meet you outside.’
‘Is this a ploy so I have to release your hand and you’ll abscond?’
She chuckled, a welcome, happy sound after her apparent snit. ‘It’s a ploy to use the bathroom.’ She held up her hands. ‘No other ulterior motives or escape plans in the works—promise.’
‘In that case I’ll see you down there.’ He squeezed her hand before releasing it. ‘But more than five minutes and I get the best piece of fish.’
‘You’re on.’
Thankfully she only kept him waiting three, and he’d barely had time to spread the picnic blanket on the sand before she hit the beach running.
His breath caught as he watched her scuffing sand and snagging her hair into a loose knot at the nape of her neck. The actions were so reminiscent of their time in Capri he wanted to run half way to meet her.
Not liking how fast she’d got under his skin, he busied himself with unwrapping the paper and setting out the lemon wedges and salt sachets alongside the chips and grilled fish. Anything to keep his hands busy and resisting the urge to sweep her into his arms when she got close enough.
‘That smells amazing,’ she said, flopping down on the blanket next to him. ‘But you said no sitting down.’
‘Trivialities.’ He pushed the paper towards her. ‘Eat.’
And they did, making short work of the meal in companionable silence. He hadn’t aimed for romance but there was a certain implied intimacy that had more to do with their shared past than any concerted effort now.
The comfortableness surprised him. Considering her reservations about heading to Torquay with him in the first place, and then her absentee act all morning, he’d expected awkwardness.
This relaxed ambience was good. All the better to spring his surprise.
‘I need to ask you a favour.’
She licked the last grains of salt off her fingers—an innocuous, innocent gesture that shot straight to his groin.
‘What is it?’
Now or never. ‘My youngest brother Travis is getting married Christmas Eve and I’d like you to be my date.’
She stared at him in open-mouthed shock, her soda can paused halfway to her lips.
‘You’re asking me to be your date?’
She made it sound as if he’d asked her to swim naked in a sea full of ravenous sharks.
‘We’re not heading back ’til Christmas Day, and it doesn’t make sense for you to spend Christmas Eve alone when you could come to what’ll basically be a whoop-up party, so I thought you might like to come.’
‘I don’t have anything to wear,’ she blurted, her horror-stricken expression not waning.
So much for that spark he’d imagined when they’d kissed.
‘There are a couple of local boutiques, but honestly it’ll be a pretty casual affair.’
‘Well, you’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?’
Her eyes narrowed, and he braced for the obvious question.
‘Why didn’t you ask me before we got here?’
Several lame-ass excuses sprang to
