sidestepped the tongs and made a grab for them in one swift movement. ‘Glad to hear it. Now, if you don’t mind, this rump is ready.’ He gestured to the grill before filling a platter with two steaks, several prawn skewers and corn on the cob.
‘I’m starving.’ She reached for the plate, her hand brushing his, and for a split second when he raised his eyes to meet hers he read desire.
Or maybe it was a reflection of his rampant need mirrored there?
Rather than give in to the impulse to ditch the plate and haul her into his arms, he used every inch of willpower to step away and keep his response light.
‘Good. I’m famous for my culinary skills.’
She followed him into the kitchen and the intensity of the previous moment dwindled away till he wondered if it had been a figment of his imagination.
‘Is there anything you’re not good at?’ She placed the salad and herb bread on the table next to the mixed grill while he poured the merlot. ‘Because, from where I’m sitting, you’re almost too good to be true.’
He paused, surprised by her swift change in mood from playful to serious. In the past, he’d been labelled with the tag most guys hated, the dreaded ‘nice’, though the women he’d dated hadn’t seemed to mind. In fact, he’d been complimented on his manners and the way he’d treated them in general. It hadn’t been his fault those relationships had failed. Supposedly, nice guys always finished last, and the women he’d been involved with had seemed to reiterate the fact.
He smiled and raised his wine glass to her. ‘Give me a few hours. I’m sure I’ll think of something.’
She clinked glasses with him, her eyes glittering in the muted light. ‘My friends have labelled you Mr Perfect.’
‘You’ve been talking about me with your friends?’
This was good. Very good. That meant she was more interested than she let on, though he wondered about the ‘perfect’ tag. No way could he live up to those expectations.
Despite their instant, intense attraction, she hardly knew him, so what had he done to deserve the accolade?
‘I might’ve vaguely mentioned something to them, you being a new client and all.’ She speared a prawn and waved her fork around as if her comment meant nothing. ‘Though I wouldn’t read too much into it.’
‘And here I was thinking you might be falling for my charm.’
She chewed and swallowed before answering, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth. ‘Sorry to disappoint. Maybe you need to brush up on your technique?’
He liked the switch back to playful and he fully intended to keep the mood light for the rest of the night.
‘Oh, I fully intend to.’ He reached across and ran a fingertip across her bottom lip, watching her eyes widen, the dark pools tempting enough for any man to lose himself in their depths. ‘How do you think I’m doing so far?’
He could’ve sworn her lip trembled beneath his light touch before she leaned back slightly and broke the contact. ‘Needs some work but you’ve got potential.’
‘Thanks. That’s all the encouragement I need.’
He stared at her over his wine glass, trying to gauge her reaction to his comment. He’d made his intentions more than clear over the course of the day, and if she opted out now he’d be disappointed.
She reached over and lightly tapped his glass. ‘Good luck, Doc. With me, you’re going to need it.’
‘Sounds like a challenge.’
She laughed, a light-hearted sound that warmed his heart. It had been too long since he’d unwound in the company of a beautiful woman, especially one who sparked his interest on many levels. ‘Why do all men get that gleam in their eye at the thought of a challenge?’
‘Because it brings out our competitive side.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Men!’
Enjoying their teasing, he decided to push his luck. ‘Speaking of my Y chromosome, when am I going to see you in a bikini? After all, we’re at one of the best beaches in the world, and members of the weaker sex such as me look forward to seeing the latest in surf fashion.’
And, just like that, the shutters descended over her eyes, cloaking them in a haze of emotion he could only label as disappointment.
‘Dream on.’ Though the corners of her mouth tilted up in a tight smile, the action was far from a happy gesture.
Okay, so she wasn’t big on bikinis. Maybe he’d try a different tack to lighten the moment. ‘Hey, can’t blame a guy for trying. With a body like yours, seems a shame not to show it off.’
If the shutters had descended seconds earlier, this time the blinds well and truly snapped shut. She shrugged and toyed with the napkin at the side of her plate. ‘Sorry to disillusion you, but remember those old neck-to-knee swimsuits? They’re skimpy compared to mine.’
She managed a short laugh but it didn’t fool him. He’d made her uncomfortable and, once again, she had him confused. This Jekyll and Hyde thing she had going on was frustrating the hell out of him and putting a real dampener on his eagerness to get to know her better.
Keen to defuse the tension that suddenly enveloped them, he raised his wine glass to her. ‘I’ve always stuck by the more is less theory, so I look forward to seeing it. Now, let’s eat.’
However, as he passed her the salad he had the distinct impression that eating was the last activity she wanted to do and, for the second time in as many minutes, wondered what deep, dark secrets Keely Rhodes harboured.
Keely trailed her fingers over the book spines, reading the titles but not really absorbing them. If she’d been nervous earlier, it was nothing compared to now. Dinner had been a breeze, with Lachlan switching to small talk after their initial hiccup over his bikini joke and she’d soon relaxed.
However, she’d known it wouldn’t last, and as the evening drew to a close the butterflies in her stomach took flight. Though he’d deposited her overnight bag in the spare room when they’d arrived at his beach house, she knew that didn’t necessarily mean she would be sleeping in there.
She hadn’t been this attracted to a man before, and though she continued focusing on work—apart from her earlier lapse into flirt mode while he barbecued—her mind kept drifting to fantasies of getting intimate in the bedroom.
He hadn’t helped matters much, stripping out of that wetsuit back at the beach and asking her to hold his towel up as a shield from prying eyes as he changed. The only problem with that was her eyes had been the ones doing most of the prying! Though she’d done her best to avert her gaze, she was only human and couldn’t help but take a peek.
And, boy, had it been worth it!
An expanse of tanned skin covered rippling muscles that belonged on an elite athlete rather than a psychologist who surfed part-time. And that butt …
She was sure the towel had slipped a notch as her hands shook while she checked out
