‘I often wonder how it is that the two of you hit it off so well.’
Her gaze swung back to him. ‘I often wonder how you two can be brother and sister.’
He smiled. And, oh…my… The corners of his eyes crinkled, his mouth tipped up boyishly, revealing an endearingly crooked tooth. She’d never noticed that before, she thought hazily. Something stirred along her skin, fluttered in her breast, and she found herself smiling back.
‘I’ve wondered the same thing myself.’ He shook his head, warmth and affection for Cindy radiating from those twinkling eyes. ‘Maybe I was adopted.’
Anneliese’s smile froze. Her veins turned to ice. The almost relaxed warmth she’d been enjoying seeped away, leaving her chilled to the bone. She was elbow-jostling and knee-bumping and breathing the same air with another human being, yet she’d never felt so desolate.
‘Hey. What’s wrong?’ His own smile faded, his eyes narrowed and he reached out, touched a finger to her cheek.
The sensation of being touched, of normal human contact, tempered the pain of the past moment, but she stiffened and drew back, afraid of her own unstable emotions. Afraid of him. His heat, his proximity, his potent and unfamiliar brand of masculinity.
She didn’t want Steve getting in the way of what she had to do. She didn’t want Steve, period. She just wanted to reach her destination.
‘Nothing’s wrong. My stomach’s talking to me,’ she lied, patting her middle. ‘In fact it’s howling.’ She summoned up a casual demeanour and voice to match. ‘I’m going to have to admit you were right and beg a couple of squares of that chocolate you so prudently purchased this morning.’
He studied her as if trying to read meaning into her sudden turnabouts of the past few moments, then his mouth quirked and he said, ‘You mean that calorie-laden one with the delicious caramel filling? All we’ve got to eat between us until mid-morning at least?’
She bit her lip, her mouth already watering as she suddenly realised she was hungry. ‘Yes. I have a half a bottle of water. I’m willing to share if you are.’
‘Deal.’ He switched on the interior light, opened the glovebox and withdrew a well-depleted block. ‘Let’s see.’ He peeled back the wrapping. ‘Six squares. That’s two now, one each for breakf—’
‘Only six?’ She stared at him, incredulous. ‘How many were there?’
‘A lot more,’ he said with a rueful shake of his head. ‘I’m afraid chocolate’s my number one indulgence.’ He broke off a couple of squares, lifted them to her lips with a grin. ‘Shall we indulge together?’
Her mouth dropped open in shock and suddenly the air was thick with all the possibilities that conjured. The image smouldered in her brain and took hold. She just had to reach out to slip her hand inside the open neck of that disreputable shirt. To pop the top button and climb on top of him and lay her caramel-coated tongue along his collar-bone while he returned the favour with his hands. Inside her blouse, beneath her bra, then—No!
Panic-stricken, her eyes shot to his. The heated gleam in his dark gaze told her all she didn’t need to know—shared fantasy. Her nipples hardened, the pulse in her neck beat double time. Without thought, she ran her tongue around dry lips, drawing his gaze to her mouth. ‘You said one square each…’ It was a sultry voice she’d never heard before coming out of her mouth. ‘That’s two.’
‘It’s too soft to break further without making a mess.’ His voice was deeper, too, as he touched the chocolate to her lips. ‘Bite off your half.’
She did as he asked and couldn’t control the murmur of delight as the smooth creamy texture flowed over her tongue. Then she saw him pop the remainder into his mouth. His eyelids dipped and she heard his low growl of approval as he savoured the experience. The same way he might when being worked over by a lover…
Heat spread through her body and her mouth went dry. She swallowed, barely managed to say ‘water?’ as she withdrew the depleted bottle from the door’s pocket.
‘After you.’
She unscrewed the top, downed a self-conscious mouthful while he watched. Sucked in a breath while he watched her wipe the moisture from her lips with her fingers. She handed the bottle to him, careful to avoid contact because right now sparks were a high—and dangerous—possibility.
It was almost a relief when they’d both finished, he’d switched off the light and they’d settled an arm’s space apart beneath the quilt’s warmth in the semi-darkness. She couldn’t help the sigh that escaped.
‘Are you tired?’ Steve asked. ‘You can nap—I’ll keep watch.’
Yes, she was. But she doubted she could sleep even if she wanted to, and no way was she going to let herself succumb to unconsciousness with Steve watching. ‘I’m fine.’ Though it might be preferable to this silent awareness that surrounded them. Outside the wind whistled around the car, leaves swirled along the rough road, but inside their shared warmth beneath the quilt created an intimacy that bordered on pain.
‘Okay. So, I’ve admitted mine—what’s your weakness, Anneliese?’
His question caught her unawares and took her a moment to think past the first thought that flared in her mind—you—which was crazy, and not one she wanted to think about. Especially now, if ever.
‘Red shoes,’ she said finally. ‘And teddies…ah…not to be confused with underwear… I mean the soft furry abandoned kind. You know.’
A knowledgeable experienced smile played around his mouth. ‘I do.’
‘Yes. Well.’ She swallowed. ‘I can’t go past a second-hand or antique shop without checking if there’s one lying in a box somewhere wondering why they were abandoned…’
Her voice broke and she gazed at the windswept vista beyond the windows. Not something Steve Anderson needed to know about. With a deliberate throat-clearing, she brightened her voice, attempted a smile and turned to him. ‘I have sixty-seven at the last count.’
His brows rose. ‘Shoes or teddies?’
‘Teddies. You don’t count your shoes—that’d take all the enjoyment out of shopping for more.’
‘Shopping,’ he murmured, with something like contempt and the heat she’d seen in his eyes moments ago cooled. She could read his expression, could almost hear the words forming in his mind. Spoiled rich chick.
‘It’s a girl thing,’ she said in her defence. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’
‘Here’s something I don’t understand,’ he said slowly with that same remote detachment. ‘Tell me why Dr Marcus Duffield’s only daughter is so set on leaving her father when he needs her most and driving to Surfers Paradise.’
Anneliese swallowed over the ball of pain that lodged in her chest, expanded and crept up her throat. She curled her fingernails into her palms till she was sure they’d draw blood to stop herself from the urge to slice into him the way he’d so neatly and precisely sliced into her. ‘That’s none of your business.’
‘I called
