Avery, whose business was public relations and thus who was paid to create goodwill, gave Claude’s arm a squeeze. “It couldn’t hurt.”
They reached the Tiki Suite and Claudia dumped Avery’s stuff on a white cane chair in the corner, oblivious to the bucketload of sand raining onto the floor. “Now, refreshing dip, my sweet patooty. What happened to you out there?”
“You should see the other guy,” Avery muttered before landing face down on the bed.
Claudia landed next to her face up. Then after a beat she turned on her side, head resting in her upturned palm as she loomed over Avery, eyebrows doing a merry dance. “What other guy?”
Avery scrunched up her face. Then rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “My leg cramped, and a guy on a surfboard dragged me out of the ocean. I’d have been fine, though. I am a very good swimmer.”
Claudia landed on her back and laughed herself silly. “I’ve been locked inside with Luke all morning, forced to listen to him yabber on about figures and columns and hard decisions and I missed it! Who was the guy?”
Avery opened her mouth to give his name, then realised he hadn’t given it. Barbarian. “I have no clue.”
Claude flapped a hand in the sky. “I know everybody. What did he look like?”
Avery tried a shrug, but truth was she could probably describe every crinkle around those deep grey eyes. But knowing she would not be allowed to sleep, till Claudia knew all, she said, “Big. Tanned. Dark curly hair. Your basic beefcake nightmare.”
Claudia paused for so long Avery glanced her way. Only to wish she hadn’t. For the smile in her friend’s eyes did not bode well for her hope that this conversation might be at an end.
“Grey surfboard with a big palm tree on it? Magnificent wolf dog at his heels?”
Damn. “That’s the one.”
Claude’s smile stretched into an all-out grin. “You, my sweet, had the pleasure of meeting Jonah North. That’s one supreme example of Australian manhood. And he rescued you? Like, actually pulled you out of the ocean? With his bare hands? What was that like?”
Avery slapped her hands over her face to hide the rising pink as her skin kicked into full-on memory mode at the feeling of those bare hands. “It was mortifying. He called me honey. Men only do that when they can’t be bothered knowing your name.”
“Huh. And yet I can’t even remember the last time a guy called me honey. Raoul always called me Sugar Puff.”
“Raoul?”
“The dance instructor I was seeing. Once upon a million years ago.”
“Well, Sugar Puff is sweet. Toothache inducing, maybe, but sweet.”
Truth was Avery usually loved an endearment. They always felt like an arrow to the part of her that had switched to maximum voltage the day her parents had told her they were getting divorced. Like me! Love me! Don’t ever leave me!
Maybe the fact that she’d responded unfavourably to the barbarian meant she’d grown. “Either way, the guy rubbed me the wrong way.”
“I know many a woman who’d give their bikini bottoms to have Jonah North rub them any which way.”
“Are you one of them?”
Claude blinked, then laughed so hard she fell back on the bed with a thump.
“That’s a no?”
Claude just laughed harder.
“What’s so funny?” Honestly. Because even while it had been mortifying, it had been one of the more blatantly sensual experiences of her recent memory: the twitch of his muscles as she’d slid her foot across his flat belly, the scrape of longing she’d felt when she’d realised he was holding his breath. Talk about addled.
Claudia brought herself back under control, then shrugged. “Aside from the fact that Jonah really learned how to pull off ‘curmudgeonly’ the past few years? He’s a born and bred local, like me. You know what it’s like when you know a guy forever?”
“Sure. Pretty much everyone in my social circle will end up with someone they’ve known forever.”
Claudia’s eyes widened. “That’s...”
“Neat?”
“I was going to say ‘demoralising,’ but neat works too.”
“It’s the Park Avenue way. Dynastic. Families know one another. Finances secured. Much like if you and Luke ended up together. It would keep the resort all in the family.”
Claudia flinched, and shook her head. “No. Don’t even... But that’s my point. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about Luke. I don’t like him very much at the moment.”
“I have no idea why. He’s grown into quite the dish. And he seems perfectly nice.” There was that word again. It had sounded quite wonderful before, all poignant and time-gone-by lovely. This time it fell kind of flat. But that was just semantics. She’d find another word.
In the meanwhile Claude shot her a look that said she’d quite like to lock the man up and throw away the key, but not before she’d lathered him in pollen and set a pack of bees on him. She might look like rainbows and sunshine, but there were clever, cunning, dark places inside Claude. Places she tapped into if those she loved were under threat. While Avery had shut her touchy tendencies away in a box with a big fat lock, oh, about ten years ago, in fact.
“Well, then,” said Avery, finding her smile, “how do you feel about my getting to know him a little better while I’m here?”
“Jonah? Perfect! He used to be such a cool guy, so chilled. But he’s been so damn broody nowadays. Laughs at my jokes only three times out of ten. Go shake him up, for all our sakes.”
“Actually...” Avery said, then cleared her throat. “I meant Luke.”
Claude’s eyes snapped wide, then settled back to near normal. “Hargreaves?”
“Yes, Hargreaves.”
Claude thought about this a moment. A few moments. Long enough Avery began to wonder if Claude’s irritation with the man was the flipside of something quite the other. In which case she’d back-pedal like crazy!
Claude put her mind to rest when she said, “You do realise he has a stick up his backside? Like, permanently?”
“So says you.” Avery laughed. “I thought he seemed perfectly—”
“Nice? Okay, then. You have my blessing. Shake that tree if it floats your boat. Just don’t get hurt. By the stick. Up his—”
“Yes, thank you. I get it.”
“In fact have at them both if you so desire. Neither Jonah Broody North or Luke Bloody Hargreaves are my type, that’s for sure.”
Avery
