turn off—he read people’s unspoken actions all the time, believing they revealed a lot more about the person than first met the eye.
In this case, Keely appeared nervous as she shifted her weight from one foot to another while tapping her fingers on the back of the pad. Were her nerves a result of her little secret about heckling him or caused by something deeper? Was it just him or did all men make her this jittery?
So much for getting to know her better. It would prove extremely difficult if she reacted like a skittish filly every time he got near her.
‘Glad it helped. Shall we get that coffee now?’
‘Sure.’ She practically bolted away from him, grabbing her bag and shoving the pad inside it before heading to the door.
‘Would you like to have dinner too?’ He usually didn’t eat after a show, preferring to grab a light supper while planning the next day’s schedule. However, the thought of staring at Keely over candlelight at his favourite seafood restaurant stimulated his appetite in more ways than one.
‘I’m not hungry.’ She spoke too quickly, as if the thought of sharing a meal with him was the last thing she’d want.
‘Let me guess. You’re on a diet.’ His gaze slid over her curves as he smiled, knowing that couldn’t be true. She had a stunning body, and women who looked like her knew it too.
To his amazement, she took a step back and raised her bag over her chest, as if using it like a shield, the golden flecks in her eyes glowing in what he swore was anger. ‘And let me guess. You think I need to be on one.’
For a psychologist, he could be pretty dumb at times. Though he’d expected to make light of his dinner invitation when she’d refused it, perhaps he hadn’t gone about it the best way. Many women were touchy about their weight, and though Keely had no reason to be he’d obviously hit a nerve.
He held his hands up in a friendly gesture of surrender. ‘Hey, I didn’t say that.’
Her eyes sparked, shooting daggers. ‘Not in so many words. Though your meaning was pretty clear.’
He resisted the urge to shake his head. A minute ago he’d been wondering if it was her endearing clumsiness, her strange nervousness, her beauty or a combination of all three that had him hooked. Now, he knew he needed to re-evaluate his interest in the stunning brunette.
Looks were one thing, irrational behaviour another. And, no matter how much he’d like to get to know her better, if she showed this much paranoia over a simple comment now, there was no telling how she’d act later. He’d been burned by a woman like that in the past—his mother, the queen of inconsistency—and he’d be damned if he’d tread down that path again.
‘How about we stick to our original plan for coffee and forget I ever said anything about dinner? Deal?’
To his relief, her shoulders sagged and she lowered the bag, giving him a shaky smile. ‘Deal. My shout.’
And, as he followed Keely out, Lachlan knew that despite his wariness at her peculiar outburst he still had every intention of discovering what made his beautiful website designer tick.
Keely sipped at her Irish coffee, thankful for the shot of alcohol swirled through the caffeine hit. Anything to calm her nerves, which had seemed to be working overtime since the minute she’d laid eyes on Lachlan this evening. First she’d practically invited his kiss at her apartment, and then she’d made a prize fool of herself by exploding over his diet comment at the station. And, though he’d done his best to put her at ease, she knew it would be hard recovering from two faux pas like that in one night.
Even now, the harder she tried to act nonchalant, as if that almost-kiss back at her apartment hadn’t happened, the more wound up she got. At least she hadn’t dropped anything, stumbled or tripped over in the last few hours. Though he found it amusing the way she reacted around him, it embarrassed her more than she let on.
‘Okay, let me have it.’
‘Pardon?’ Startled out of her reverie, she looked up at him and wondered how she could survive the next hour.
When he’d mentioned coffee to mull over his file, he’d omitted the part about bringing her to Melbourne’s hottest new jazz club. Located not far from her office in Southbank, and sprawled over half a block, the Swing Room offered its patrons everything from soulful crooning in several lounges to intimate tables for two in a quieter area reserved for late-night sojourns.
It would’ve been hard enough pretending this meeting was business at an average, run-of-the-mill café. Here, with the faint sounds of a master saxophonist filtering through the speakers, the dimly lit room just barely illuminated by candles strategically placed on the tables and the rich aroma of speciality coffees lingering in the air, Keely had no hope.
The atmosphere reeked of intimacy, and the man sitting on her right with his knee occasionally brushing hers wasn’t helping matters.
He made casual conversation as if they were old friends, putting her at ease with his witty anecdotes about the radio business. However, the more she focused on what he was saying, the more she noticed his lips, which led her thoughts down a completely different path altogether …
‘Let me see what you’ve done so far.’
Hoping that he wouldn’t see through her, and notice that her notes had been compiled in under half an hour at the office, she took out his file from her bag and laid it on the table.
‘This is only the early stages, where I tend to brainstorm, so it probably looks a bit of a mess.’
Understatement of the year. She’d covered a single sheet of paper with over a dozen Post-It notes, jotting down the few ideas that had sprung to mind when she’d finally managed to concentrate on the task at hand.
‘And don’t forget that I’ve gained a whole lot more info from being at the station tonight, so I’ll try to incorporate a few more ideas into the basic plan tomorrow.’
Unfortunately, some of the info she’d learned earlier at the station hadn’t been all good. She’d let her attraction for the man cloud her judgement; yet with his inadvertent swipe at her weight he’d reminded her in no uncertain terms that he was just like the rest of the male population: obsessed by superficialities like a woman’s body shape rather than considering the heart on the inside. She’d copped more than her fair share of fat jokes and snide remarks over the years and, though they’d hurt at the time, none had surprised her as much as Lachlan’s dig. She’d expected more from a man like him, which just went to show that he wasn’t so perfect after all. Once again, her judgement when it came to the male species was way off and she’d do a darn sight better remembering it. Besides, Lachlan Brant was business and she had no right to even contemplate acting on the attraction that sparked between them.
She resisted the urge to nibble on a fingernail as he perused the file, his face unreadable.
‘Uh-huh,’ were the only two syllables he uttered as he screwed up his eyes, obviously trying to make sense of her tiny scrawling on the notes.
Just when she was ready to grab her notes and flee, he looked up and smiled. ‘I like what you’ve done so far. Creative, interesting, effective.’
He handed her the file and she wanted to hug him. Her work was her
