his intent expression as he watched her did the same again. ‘The bread … the … er … the bread is delicious.’
‘The décor could do with a facelift.’ In the candlelight the grey of his eyes darkened as his gaze focused on her. His lashes cast shadows over the strong slash of his cheeks. ‘I don’t particularly like the colour red either. I prefer autumn tones, like your—’ He frowned. ‘Like the season.’
Like her hair and the clothing she chose to wear most often? Marissa felt warmed despite herself.
Was she so foolish that she couldn’t avoid falling for this kind of man again? For her ex-fiancé’s kind of man? Because Rick was corporate to the core. He wouldn’t care about building a family or doing any of the things she wanted …
‘Feta on warm salad.’ A waiter deposited the entrées and whisked a bottle of white wine forward, poured and left the rest of the bottle on the table. Disappeared again.
Rick drew a deep breath. ‘Eat.’ He gestured to the food, lifted his fork and seemed determined to back the tension off. Back it right off and keep it backed off.
Marissa wanted that too. To assist in that endeavour, she said a little desperately, ‘You said you’re a skilled diver. Is that something you’ve done for long?’
Small talk. Surely if she smothered them in small talk it would have the desired effect?
‘I started diving in my twenties after my sister Darla … For leisure.’ He sipped his wine and something in his face seemed to close up. ‘I’ve dived coastal reefs and other places but nowadays I mostly work locally on some endangered species projects.’
‘Your niece really is in good hands with her swimming lessons, then.’ A flash of that day, of him bare-chested and off-centre as he’d made up excuses for those swimming lessons, did something warm and tingly to her insides. It softened her emotions and made it difficult to remember him as the highflying boss, a man very much out of her emotional league.
‘Your family—’
‘I’d rather hear about you.’ He didn’t bark the words, but the closed door was clear just the same. ‘About your interests. We probably don’t have a lot in common.’
No. They probably didn’t, and she should appreciate that he wanted them both to accept that.
Rick let his gaze slide to his hands for a moment as he asked, ‘So. What are your hobbies?’
What hadn’t she tried might be easier to answer. But here was her chance to bore him rigid.
Marissa realised they’d eaten their way through the food and she hadn’t even noticed. Well, she was focused now.
‘I’ve tried motorcycle riding. I was eighteen and had a boyfriend at the Milberry further education college that year. He had tattoos and really long hair.’ Was that enough boredom factor? ‘I also tried my hand as a jillaroo on an outback station for twelve months but I guess that’s a career, not a hobby. Does it count as a hobby if you just tested it out to see how it fit?’
She’d missed her parents a lot during that twelve months. And she was fighting to try to be boring. This wasn’t supposed to be a cheerful reminiscence session.
His eyes gleamed with interest that he probably didn’t want to feel either. ‘I can’t imagine you roping calves or whatever girl station hands do.’
Maybe if she went on some more he’d reach that stage of boredom they both wanted.
‘I can ride a horse, though I’d only had pony club lessons before I went outback.’ Her parents had found the money to give her those childhood lessons. They’d been filled with pride the first time she’d taken her little borrowed pony once around the walking ring all by herself. ‘The jillaroo thing didn’t really work out. I found I didn’t like dust and big open spaces all that much.’
Instead of questioning her lack of intrepidity or yawning, he laughed. A deep, rich sound that rippled over her skin and made her catch her breath, and made him look years younger even as his laugh faded abruptly.
Their main courses arrived. Fillet of sole for her on a bed of spiced lentil mash, salmon steak for him with green beans and wild rice.
Marissa though he might leave the discussion there, or change the topic. Or simply let the silence grow as its own demonstration of his complete lack of interest in the minutiae of her life.
Instead, he caught her glance again and said, almost desperately, ‘What else have you done with your time?’
‘I went through a craft phase that lasted several years.’ Surely he would find that very ordinary. She sipped her wine and a part of her registered the wonderful fruity tartness against her tongue before she went on. ‘I crocheted a throw rug, made one patchwork quilt—a very small one. Tried out bag beading and made a tissue box cover, created my own calendar out of photos.’
Bought baby wool and hid it in the bottom drawer of my dresser, even though I know it’s there and there’s a part of me that wants to get it out and buy a knitting pattern for tiny little booties and work out how to make them.
Why did she have to feel this way? Why did she suddenly want all these things with an ever-increasing fierceness? Was it just because she was soon to turn thirty? Well, whatever the reason, it was highly inconvenient and she wished she didn’t feel this way, and it was really not conducive to her peace of mind to have such thoughts in Rick’s presence!
‘And you’ve made a laminated desk cover of cartoons. I glanced at some of them. You’ve gathered some good material.’ Though his words were bland, the look in his eyes was anything but.
‘I’ve tried out a lot of different things. I’m not like that about work, though,’ she hastened to add. ‘I’m perfectly happy at Morgan’s and hope to stay with the company for a very long time.’
‘You’ve worked with us about six months, haven’t you?’ As easily as the conversation had rambled through her hobbies, it shifted to ground she didn’t want to visit. ‘What about before that? There’s a stretch of time between those early things and now.’ And now he looked interested in quite a different way.
Marissa tried not to let her body stiffen but she so didn’t want to answer his question. She shouldn’t have let the conversation head in this direction at all. ‘I worked as a secretary in marketing for a number of years before … before I moved into my lovely position working for Gordon. I also like my apartment here better than the old one.’
There were no memories of her stupidity within its walls. Michael had never lived with her, but he’d spent time in her home.
Well, a complete break had been in order, and why was she thinking about that when she’d deliberately pushed it out of her mind straight after it had happened? Had learned the lesson and moved right along.
Had she? Or was she defensive on more than one front and trying to patch over the problems by finding a special man she could hand-pick at her own discretion? That question rose up just to add something else to her broodiness and worries about ageing, as if they weren’t big enough problems by themselves.
Her mouth tightened. ‘And Morgan’s is a great company to work for. Anyway, you don’t want to hear that boring stuff
