and, though she didn’t seem the type to encourage him while involved with another man, one never knew. Look at his mum.
‘Keely will see you in her office now. Would you like one of these?’ The receptionist held up a plate of cinnamon doughnuts that smelled delicious, somehow making the innocuous question sound as if she was offering more.
He’d had his fair share of women throw themselves at him, yet he’d always preferred the more subtle charms of a woman who acted as if she didn’t possess any compared with her overtly voracious counterparts.
However, that didn’t mean he had to be rude. He smiled and took one of the doughnuts. ‘Thanks. Let’s hope it doesn’t go straight to my hips.’
‘Nothing wrong with your hips from where I’m sitting,’ he heard the receptionist mutter before she plastered a professional smile on her expertly made-up face and turned away to answer an incoming call.
Let’s hope the beautiful Miss Rhodes thinks so, he thought as he half demolished the doughnut before knocking on her door.
‘Come in.’
He pushed the door open, wondering how Keely would act after last night. Would she pretend nothing had happened between them or would she make a joke of it? Personally, he hoped she’d had as good a time as he had and would want to repeat the experience.
‘Hope you’re not too busy. Thought I might run a few ideas past you for the website …’ He trailed off at the stunned look on her face. ‘What’s wrong?’
Keely tried not to stare, but the sight of Lachlan eating a cinnamon doughnut, one of the few criteria for the perfect man she’d assumed he wouldn’t possess, floored her.
As if it wasn’t bad enough he had to match every other quality on her checklist!
Pulling herself together, she managed to say, ‘You like doughnuts?’
A sheepish smile spread across his handsome face. ‘It’s a weakness.’ He shrugged, looking like a cheeky schoolboy rather than a renowned psychologist. ‘What can I say?’
You can say something rude or obnoxious again, something designed to push me away.
However, she knew it was useless. Falling for a guy like Lachlan—the perfect man, according to her stupid checklist—seemed inevitable.
So much for being a realist.
When it came to her heart, it was ironic that she could be as gullible as Emma, a true romantic.
‘Do I have sugar covering my lips or something?’
She bit back her first retort of or something; preferably me. ‘Sorry if I appeared distracted. I was in the middle of all this.’
‘And here I was, hoping that I was the distraction.’ He smiled, the simple action illuminating his face. She’d never known a guy to smile like that, his eyes lighting up as if the world was a great place to be. If she was truly delusional, she’d like to think that she had that effect on him.
‘You are.’ The words popped out and his grin broadened. ‘I mean, I was putting the finishing touches on another client’s site, and now I need to switch my thinking to you.’
Lame, even by her standards, and by the amused look on his face he didn’t buy it for a minute.
‘Did you enjoy last night?’
Oh, heck. Was he referring to the radio station, the jazz club or the physical attraction that had zinged between them?
Rather than come up with more pathetic excuses, she decided to keep her answer simple. ‘Yes, I did.’
‘Good. It makes what I have to suggest now all the more appropriate.’
Oh-oh. The only suggestions he could possibly make that sprang to mind were highly inappropriate and she could only wish.
‘Sounds interesting,’ she said, resisting the urge to swing on her chair. Knowing her luck around him, she’d lean back too far and fall off it.
‘It is. How would you like to gain real insight into the man behind the voice and put a few masterful touches on my website in the process?’
‘I thought that was what last night was about?’
‘It was only the start. What I had in mind was you spending time with me in various aspects of my life, watching me interact in different situations, getting a feel for what I want on my website. Look at it as a way to gain firsthand knowledge of what makes Lachlan Brant tick.’
Keely struggled to maintain a calm façade while she composed her thoughts. Funnily enough, she had been about to suggest something similar, though hadn’t quite come up with the right words to approach him. This assignment was important to her and she’d make it the best work she’d done if it killed her—though with a guy like Lachlan by her side 24/7, what a way to go.
‘Let me get this straight. I get to spend time with you away from work to gain insight into your personality? What situations did you have in mind?’
He crossed his arms, drawing her attention to his broad shoulders and the way his pale blue business shirt stretched across them. ‘I like to surf, bushwalk and barbecue to chill out and de-stress, so I thought you could hang out with me, ask some in-depth questions, make a few notes.’
He strode across the room, closing the distance between them in an instant, and crouched down next to her. ‘All strictly professional, of course.’
She inhaled deeply, trying to get oxygen to her befuddled brain in a hurry. Instead, his aftershave tempted her to lean closer to him and savour the crisp, clean smell that blended with his pheromones to entice her further.
To make matters worse, he stared at her with an intensity that took her breath away.
‘Call it research.’ He rested his hand on the back of her chair.
She cleared her throat, wishing he’d stop looking at her like that. How was a girl supposed to think with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen glued to her? ‘Sounds good. Do you have any of that adventurous stuff planned for this weekend?’
He laughed, and the spell that enveloped them cleared in a second. ‘Not into the outdoors, huh?’
Not unless it involved cuddling under a blanket on a windswept beach with the man of her dreams. As if that was going to happen in a hurry! ‘What gave it away?’
‘The frown, the way you wrinkled up your nose. Didn’t I tell you I’m an expert on body language?’
Girl, don’t go there! A host of wicked responses sprang to mind about exactly how he could read her body—by touch, being the primary choice—and she bit back every one of them.
What had got into her? Her hormones were clouding her judgement. She wasn’t supposed to like the man, remember? He professed the same textbook psychobabble as the rest of his profession; he had dished out his baloney to that overweight teenager as if he knew how the poor girl felt.
Yeah, right.
