CHAPTER SIX
‘Is a sensitive, considerate man: a) a myth, b) an oxymoron, c) a moron?’
Lucy, looking for Mr Right in all the wrong places.
LACHLAN flipped the steaks on the barbecue and watched Keely rustle up a salad through the kitchen window. Even with a slight frown marring her brow as she concentrated on getting the right mix of olive oil, lemon and balsamic vinegar, she looked beautiful.
He’d had a hard time concentrating on riding the waves earlier that afternoon, his mind wandering to the woman sitting on the pristine sand, watching him. He’d almost been wiped out several times but had rallied at the last moment, only to be wiped out in earnest when he’d finished surfing and seen the look in her eyes as he jogged up the beach towards her.
She’d looked at him like a woman starved, with her eye on the entrée, main course and dessert all rolled into one. He’d been flattered. Hell, he’d been ready to rip off his wetsuit and take her right then and there in the sand, discomfort be damned.
However, Keely had secrets, and not just the one about her being his late-night heckler. He’d glimpsed vulnerability, uncertainty, and what he could almost label fear in her eyes whenever he mentioned his interest in her.
Not that he’d pushed too hard yet. He wasn’t a complete fool. Sure, he wanted to get to know her better, but he had a feeling that if he rushed her she would bolt quicker than his mum had at the first offer from one of her numerous lovers.
‘By the look on your face, this barbecuing business is serious stuff.’
Quashing the sharp stab of pain that memories of his traitorous mother never failed to raise, he brandished the stainless steel tongs at her. ‘It is. Wouldn’t want you to complain about the rump being too rare.’
To his delight, she sent a pointed look at his butt and raised an eyebrow. ‘Nothing wrong with a bit of rare rump. It’s pretty hard to find these days.’
He laughed and wiggled the piece of anatomy she was eyeing. ‘Don’t go getting any ideas to sink your teeth into this just yet.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes, picking up the tongs and aiming a pinch his way. ‘I’m very selective with my rump. It takes a lot of handling and careful weighing before I select the best piece.’
He sidestepped the tongs and made a grab for them in one swift movement. ‘Glad to hear it. Now, if you don’t mind, this rump is ready.’ He gestured to the grill before filling a platter with two steaks, several prawn skewers and corn on the cob.
‘I’m starving.’ She reached for the plate, her hand brushing his, and for a split second when he raised his eyes to meet hers he read desire.
Or maybe it was a reflection of his rampant need mirrored there?
Rather than give in to the impulse to ditch the plate and haul her into his arms, he used every inch of willpower to step away and keep his response light.
‘Good. I’m famous for my culinary skills.’
She followed him into the kitchen and the intensity of the previous moment dwindled away till he wondered if it had been a figment of his imagination.
‘Is there anything you’re not good at?’ She placed the salad and herb bread on the table next to the mixed grill while he poured the merlot. ‘Because, from where I’m sitting, you’re almost too good to be true.’
He paused, surprised by her swift change in mood from playful to serious. In the past, he’d been labelled with the tag most guys hated, the dreaded ‘nice’, though the women he’d dated hadn’t seemed to mind. In fact, he’d been complimented on his manners and the way he’d treated them in general. It hadn’t been his fault those relationships had failed. Supposedly, nice guys always finished last, and the women he’d been involved with had seemed to reiterate the fact.
He smiled and raised his wine glass to her. ‘Give me a few hours. I’m sure I’ll think of something.’
She clinked glasses with him, her eyes glittering in the muted light. ‘My friends have labelled you Mr Perfect.’
‘You’ve been talking about me with your friends?’
This was good. Very good. That meant she was more interested than she let on, though he wondered about the ‘perfect’ tag. No way could he live up to those expectations.
Despite their instant, intense attraction, she hardly knew him, so what had he done to deserve the accolade?
‘I might’ve vaguely mentioned something to them, you being a new client and all.’ She speared a prawn and waved her fork around as if her comment meant nothing. ‘Though I wouldn’t read too much into it.’
‘And here I was thinking you might be falling for my charm.’
She chewed and swallowed before answering, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth. ‘Sorry to disappoint. Maybe you need to brush up on your technique?’
He liked the switch back to playful and he fully intended to keep the mood light for the rest of the night.
‘Oh, I fully intend to.’ He reached across and ran a fingertip across her bottom lip, watching her eyes widen, the dark pools tempting enough for any man to lose himself in their depths. ‘How do you think I’m doing so far?’
He could’ve sworn her lip trembled beneath his light touch before she leaned back slightly and broke the contact. ‘Needs some work but you’ve got potential.’
‘Thanks. That’s all the encouragement I need.’
He stared at her over his wine glass, trying to gauge her reaction to his comment. He’d made his intentions more than clear over the course of the day, and if she opted out now he’d be disappointed.
She reached over and lightly tapped his glass. ‘Good luck, Doc. With me, you’re going to need it.’
‘Sounds like a challenge.’
She laughed, a light-hearted sound that warmed his heart. It had been too long since he’d unwound in the company of a beautiful woman, especially one who sparked his interest on many levels. ‘Why do all men get that gleam in their eye at the thought of a challenge?’
‘Because it brings out our competitive side.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Men!’
Enjoying their teasing, he decided to push his luck. ‘Speaking of my Y chromosome, when am I going to see you in a bikini? After all, we’re at one of the best beaches in the world, and members of the weaker sex such as me look forward to seeing the latest in surf fashion.’
And, just like that, the shutters descended over her eyes, cloaking them in a haze of emotion he could only label as disappointment.
‘Dream on.’ Though the corners of her mouth tilted up in a tight smile, the action was far from a happy gesture.
Okay, so she wasn’t big on bikinis. Maybe he’d try a different tack to lighten the moment. ‘Hey, can’t blame a guy for trying. With a body like yours, seems a shame not to show it off.’
If the shutters had descended seconds earlier, this time the blinds well and truly snapped shut. She shrugged and toyed with the napkin at the side of her plate. ‘Sorry to disillusion you, but remember those old neck-to-knee swimsuits? They’re skimpy compared to mine.’
She managed a short laugh but it didn’t fool him. He’d made her uncomfortable and, once again, she had him confused. This Jekyll and Hyde thing she had going on was frustrating the hell out of him and putting a real dampener on his eagerness to get to know her better.
Keen to defuse the tension that suddenly enveloped them, he raised his wine glass to her. ‘I’ve