brown hair curled around his collar, too long for conventionality. Or the way stubble highlighted his strong jaw. Or how he never wore his top button done up, making the tanned V of skin a temptation to be touched.
Yep, damned hormones.
‘You’re flustered.’ He took a step closer and it took all her willpower not to step back. ‘Anything I can do to help?’
Oh, yeah. But she wasn’t going there, and especially not with him.
Once she sealed this deal she needed a date. A hot guy with nothing on his mind but drizzled chocolate and a sleepless night.
As if she’d ever find a guy to live up to her fantasies. The guys she dated were staid, executive types on tight timelines who demanded little. Guys like her.
‘Yeah, there is something you can do.’ She met his gaze, determinedly ignoring the quiver in her belly that signalled Patrick Fourde would be the kind of guy to make all a girl’s fantasies come true. ‘Be prepared to be wowed by the best designs Seaborns has ever produced.’
He inclined his head, the sunlight picking up spun gold streaks. ‘I’ll keep an open mind.’
‘That’s all I’m asking for.’
‘Pity.’
How one word could hold so much promise, so much sizzle, she’d never know. The guy had suave down to an art. He’d had that elusive something as a teen and it had evolved into a raw, potent sex appeal that disconcerted her.
Not that she couldn’t handle him…it…whatever.
‘Did that practised schmooze work for you in Europe?’
Those cobalt flecks flared and an answering lick of heat made her squirm. He didn’t speak, and his silence unnerved her as much as the banked heat in his steady stare.
‘Because personally it doesn’t do much for me.’
‘What does?’
‘Pardon?’
‘What does do it for you?’ He leaned in deliciously, temptingly close and she held her breath. ‘Because I’d really like to know.’
His breath fanned her ear, setting up a ripple effect as every nerve ending from her head to her toes zinged.
She could feel the heat radiating off him, could smell a delectable combination of crisp designer wool and French aftershave with a spicy undertone.
Heady. Tempting. Overwhelming.
Powerless to resist, she tilted her head a fraction, the tip of her nose within grazing distance of his neck.
And she breathed. Infusing her senses with him. Closed her eyes. Imagined for one infinitesimal moment what it would be like to close the gap between them and nuzzle his neck.
She had no idea how long they hovered a hair’s breadth apart, the inch between their bodies vibrating with an undeniable energy.
‘Hey, Saph, you out the back?’
She jumped, snagged her sneaker on a rock and stumbled. His hands shot out to grab her, anchoring her.
She should have been grateful. Instead, with his burning gaze fixed on her, a host of unasked questions she had no hope of answering flickering in the grey depths, she felt embarrassment burn her cheeks.
Patrick Fourde was the master of seduction. Always had been. It came as naturally to him as waking up in the morning. So why the heck was she responding to him on a level that defied explanation?
She couldn’t be attracted to him.
Her business depended on it.
Besides, she didn’t like him. She’d never liked him. He’d been a major pain in the ass during high school and by the way he’d breezed in here, determined to rile her, it looked as if nothing had changed.
For there was nothing surer—his turning up here today, twenty-four hours before their scheduled meeting, was nothing better than a ploy to unnerve her.
She might need his business, but working alongside him wouldn’t be easy.
‘Thanks,’ she muttered, brushing off his hold in time to see Ruby propped in the doorway, a delighted grin matching the astute glint in her eyes.
‘I didn’t know you had company.’ Ruby winked at Patrick. ‘And such fine company at that.’
Debatable.
‘Looking good, Rubes.’ Patrick saluted her sister. ‘Marriage suits you.’
‘Thanks.’ Ruby’s assessing gaze swept over Patrick, and by her growing grin she approved of what she saw. ‘Could say the same about you and Europe.’
‘Paris is okay, but Melbourne can hold its own.’ For some inexplicable reason he glanced her way. ‘This city is filled with beauty.’
To her annoyance, Sapphie’s blush intensified as Ruby stifled a guffaw.
‘You’re full of it,’ Sapphie muttered under her breath. In response, he snatched her hand and lifted it to his lips before she could react.
‘Maybe so, but you missed me anyway.’
He kissed the back of her hand—a soft, butterfly brush of his lips that almost made her sigh. Almost.
‘In your dreams.’
‘Count on it,’ he whispered, squeezing her hand before releasing it. ‘See you tomorrow.’
Damn the man for doing it to her again. Deliberately taunting, trying to make her flustered—and succeeding. Her stupid hand still tingled where he’d kissed it. That whole in-her-face practised French charm…? Yet another of his tricks to tease her. What she couldn’t understand was why. Was he trying to get her off-guard before their meeting tomorrow? Trying to disarm her and make her stuff up?
Whatever the answer, she mulled over it while watching one very fine ass as he farewelled Ruby and disappeared into Seaborns on his way out.
Ideally, she would have returned to her relaxation stretches to banish the disturbing sensations Patrick had elicited.
How many times had she done her best to ignore him in Biology, when her recalcitrant lab partner doodled rather than rote-learn the nerves in the human body, would deliberately distract her with stupid jokes, poke fun at everything from her ruled margins to her neat handwriting.
It made what had happened on graduation night all the more annoying, because it had been him she’d let her guard down around, him who’d been there to offer comfort, him who’d made her tingle all over just like the stupid buzz still zapping the skin on the back of her hand.
To add to her discomfort she now had to face a rampantly curious Ruby, who waited until he’d left before bounding towards her.
‘Jeez. How seriously hot
