she hadn’t, at least not one as built as this. Not ever. The only men she saw were those at work and they were all either weedy or obese. Sure, it was a stereotype, but in Kelsi’s world it was actually true—computer geek guys were not gorgeous.
This man before her was most definitely not a computer geek. He had to spend serious hours outside to get both a tan like that and muscles like those, not to mention the sun-lightened streaks at the front of his dark brown hair. Hair that hung over his forehead in a casual style begging to be brushed back by her itchy fingers.
He was all utterly natural gorgeousness. But perhaps not, perhaps it was her contacts making him seem so vibrant. What colour tint had she put in today? She couldn’t remember. Had one of them slipped? She blinked again. Tried to marshal her far-flung-on-the-breeze thoughts.
‘Tell you what, why don’t I drive you?’ The question was asked so gently she wasn’t sure if he’d actually said it or if she was dreaming.
‘Pardon?’ She shivered.
His hand lifted to her shoulder again, his thumb stroked her skin, a slow sweep and what she thought he’d just said fled from her head. She shivered again—but she certainly wasn’t cold.
‘I’m going to drive,’ he said very slowly.
He was what? All she knew was that he was smiling and the world was technicolor.
‘Come on.’
He seemed to be trying to calm her down. She didn’t need calming down—she was fine, right? But she was moving, being guided into her own passenger seat by the warm, firm hand on her lower back.
She sat.
‘Um. ’ No point arguing now. He’d shut the door and was walking to the driver’s side. She winced as she saw his limp again. This was crazy—she needed to get a grip on herself and apologise once more. She needed to be helping him, not the other way round.
As soon as he got in she asked him, ‘Are you sure you’re OK to drive?’
There was a half-laugh in reply. It was a nice laugh—low and very, very amused. ‘What’s your name?’
Kelsi stared at him, the echo of the laugh reverberating through the small space. He looked ridiculous in her car, his knees almost up to his ears. That was because the driver’s seat was pushed as far forward as it could go so her feet could reach the pedals. He pushed the seat back to the limit, but even so. The size of him was overwhelming. And he’d said something, hadn’t he? Because he was staring back at her expectant-like.
‘Sorry?’ Her brain had gone far, far offshore into the wide blue yonder.
‘Your name?’ He leaned across her seat, his torso coming in ultraclose. In a second that strong, broad chest almost touched hers. The action totally struck her dumb—not to mention rendered her immobile. Her body tightened, but not from fear. Oh, no, not fear. This close she could see his symmetrical face, with the hint of shadow on the angular jaw, the gleaming white teeth. She could even feel his heat and he smelt crisp and fresh. She held her breath as he came even closer—was he about to kiss her? Was she going to let this complete stranger kiss her? Mesmerised, she stared into his eyes, his smiling, promise-of-paradise eyes…
Why, yes. Of course she was. There was absolutely no other option she could think of. She couldn’t think at all.
But there was a noise right by her ear. Oh. Disappointment crushed as he pulled the seat belt across her body, carefully clicking it into place. Of course he wasn’t going to kiss her. Guys like him could kiss a bevy of beauties. He’d never think to kiss her. Oh, but how she’d wanted him to.
Limply she sagged back against the seat. Man, she needed to get a grip. But in the thin summer dress she was wearing, her body had gone all goose-bumpy.
He started the engine and after a moment she peeled her gaze from his big hands on the wheel to watch where they were going. He turned right when she would have gone straight ahead. But it didn’t matter.
‘Miss?’
Miss? She’d never been called ‘miss’ by anyone. ‘Kelsi. ’ She finally clued in to what he’d been asking.
‘Kelsi, I’m Jack.’
‘Hi,’ she said vaguely, her brain going AWOL again as she looked at him. Ruthlessly she tried to drag it back to full-attention mode. Kelsi loved surrealist art, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for her life to go totally surreal. And having a guy like this driving her who knew where, was definitely surreal.
He laughed again and a dimple creased his jaw giving him a very cheeky look. ‘I think you need some recovery time.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ She sighed and made herself look just slightly to the left of him—so she could try to keep her thoughts on track. He was right. She did need to recover, but not over the accident. It was his gorgeousness and his proximity that were screwing up her thought processes now. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’
He lifted one hand from the wheel, holding it up in the ’stop’ sign. ‘Don’t start that again. Please.’
‘Right.’ She nodded. Yeah. She’d hardly been cool, calm and collected. Not at all the kind of person you’d want to be in an emergency. She’d been a jibbering mess.
‘I know a café that does fantastic coffee,’ he said. ‘Let’s get some, OK?’
Coffee. That was her problem. She hadn’t had her hit this morning. That was why she was feeling both so wired and wobbly now—not the accident, not him.
He pulled into a car park and killed the engine.
‘You can’t park here, it’s reserved.’ Customer only spaces for the snow’n’skate-wear store—the signs were everywhere.
He didn’t even glance at them. ‘They won’t mind.’
He was Mr Laid-back wasn’t he? Did he take everything in his stride—literally in his stride—like being hit by however many tonnes of metal car? He grinned and pocketed her keys as he limped onto the footpath beside her. She tried not to stare but the guilt seized her. Then his hand seized her upper arm even more firmly and he swung her round, walking her into the doorway of the cool café.
‘Sit.’ He stopped at the closest table. ‘I’m getting you a coffee.’
Kelsi plopped into the chair and put her elbow on the table, closing her eyes as she rested her head in her hand. ‘A black coffee would be fantastic.’ Coffee would kick her back together—because this brainless behaviour could no longer be her.
Jack paused and looked at the paler-than-pale petite woman in front of him. You’d think she’d been the one hit by the car, not him. Truth be told he’d hardly been touched, had thumped his fist on the bonnet and dodged to avoid it. But doing that had wrenched his weak knee—hence the worsening of the limp. The surgery had been a couple of weeks ago, but right now it felt as if it had been yesterday.
He walked to the counter, trying to stretch out the soreness the sudden movement had caused, hoping it wasn’t going to set his progress back. He was desperate to get training again.
He
