She started to laugh, settling back into the plump cushions of the outdoor sofa. ‘I have a feeling it’s a certain Plum Pines employee rather than a newfound enthusiasm for conservation that has you truly inspired.’
He sobered. What on earth...? That was supposed to come as a surprise.
He managed a shrug. ‘I like her.’
‘I can tell.’
How could she tell?
She couldn’t tell!
Romance had addled Carla’s brain, that was all. She wanted everyone travelling on the same delirious cloud as she. It made her see romance where none existed. But he could work that to his advantage.
‘I’m not sure she likes me.’
‘And you think by becoming a volunteer it’ll make her look upon you with a friendlier eye?’
‘Along with my newfound enthusiasm for weed eradication.’
Carla laughed—a delightful sound that gladdened his heart. There’d been a time when he’d wondered if he’d ever hear her laugh again.
‘She won’t take any of your nonsense, you know.’
He eyed his sister carefully. ‘Would it bug you if I asked her out?’
‘Not at all.’ She studied her fingernails. ‘If you’ll promise me one thing.’
‘Name it.’
‘That you won’t judge Thierry too harshly based on today’s events. He wasn’t at his best. He’s very different from us, Dylan, but I love him.’ She turned a pleading gaze on him. ‘Please?’
He bit back a sigh. ‘Okay.’
‘Thank you!’
He widened his stance. ‘But I want to get to know him better before you two tie the knot.’
‘That can be arranged.’ Her smile widened. ‘We can double date!’
Perfect.
‘Perhaps,’ he said, not wanting to appear too eager to share Mia with anyone else. ‘Are you going to let him talk you out of volunteering?’
‘Not a chance.’ She laughed. ‘I’m signing up first thing tomorrow.’
MIA STARED INTO the mirror and rubbed a hand across her chest in an effort to soothe her racing heart.
You look fine.
Dylan had assured her that tonight’s date—fakedate—was casual, not dressy. They were meeting Carla and Thierry at some trendy burger joint for dinner and then going on to a movie.
She really needed to go shopping for some new clothes. She’d not bothered much with her appearance since getting out of jail. She’d avoided pretty things, bright colours, shunning anything that might draw attention.
She glanced back at the mirror. Her jeans and pale blue linen shirt were appropriately casual, if somewhat bland. The outfit wouldn’t embarrass her. More to the point, it wouldn’t embarrass Dylan. On impulse she threaded a pair of silver hoops through her ears.
For the last five days Dylan had spent every morning at Plum Pines, helping her dig out weeds. And for the entire time he’d remained unfailingly cheerful and good-natured. He’d never once made her feel as if he was counting down the hours until he’d met his side of the bargain.
He continued to flirt outrageously—not just with her but with all the other female volunteers too. It made her feel safe.
She shook her head at that thought. She had to remain vigilant, make sure she didn’t become too comfortable around him.
She swung away from the mirror, tired of her reflection. The fact remained that she had limited wardrobe options and this was the best that she could muster. Brooding about it was pointless. Besides, she had more important things to worry about.
Like what on earth was she going to add to the conversation tonight?
She strode into her tiny living room and dropped to the sofa. She needed to come up with five topics of conversation. She glanced at the clock. Fast! Dylan would be here to collect her in fifteen minutes. She chewed on her bottom lip. No matter how much she might want to, she couldn’t sit through dinner without saying anything. That wouldn’t be keeping her end of the deal.
Dear God! What to talk about, though? Think!
A knock sounded on the door.
Her gaze flew to the clock. He was early. And she hadn’t come up with even one topic of conversation!
* * *
Dylan hated to admit it, but he couldn’t wait to catch a glimpse of Mia out of uniform. Not that he had anything against her uniform, but there was only so much khaki cotton twill a man could take.
In some deep hidden part of himself lurked a male fantasy he should no doubt be ashamed of, but... He’d love for Mia to answer the door in a short skirt and sky-high heels. So predictable! He had a feeling, though, that Mia probably didn’t own either.
Still, he’d make do with jeans and a nice pair of ballet flats. That would be nice. Normal. And maybe away from work she’d start to relax some of that fierce guard of hers.
He knocked again and the door flew open. He smiled. Bingo! She wore jeans and ballet flats. With the added bonus of surprisingly jaunty earrings that drew attention to the dark glossiness of her hair. He’d not seen her with her hair down before. He had an insane urge to reach out and run his hand through it, to see if it were as soft and silky as it promised.
He curved his hand into a fist and kept it by his side. He’d meant to greet her with his typical over-the-top gallantry—kiss her hand, twirl her around and tell her she looked good enough to eat—except the expression in her eyes stopped him.
He made no move to open the screen door, just met her gaze through its mesh. ‘What’s wrong?’
Puffing out a sigh, she pushed the door open and gestured him in. ‘You’re early.’
‘If you haven’t finished getting ready I’m happy to wait. You look great, by the way.’ He didn’t want her thinking that he thought she didn’t look ready. He didn’t want her stressing about her appearance at all.
‘No, I’m ready. I just... I don’t do this, you know?’
‘Date? Yes, so you said. It’s not a date, Mia.’
Her living room was small. In fact the whole cottage was tiny. She’d told him earlier in the week that she rented one of the Plum Pines workers’ cottages. There was a row of three of them on the south side of the reserve. From what he could tell, she ate, breathed and slept Plum Pines. He glanced around. Which seemed odd when she’d clearly taken few pains to make her cottage cosy and comfortable.
‘Are you sure about this plan, Dylan?’
He turned back, frowning at her unease. ‘What are you worried about?’
One slim shoulder lifted. ‘That I’ll embarrass you.’ She gestured for him to take a seat on the sofa. She planted herself on a hard wooden chair at the little dining table pressed hard up against one wall.
She moistened her lips and he realised she wore a pale mocha-coloured lipstick. Desire arrowed straight to his groin. Gritting his teeth, he did his best to ignore it. For pity’s sake, he’d warned himself off her—that should have been that!
He gritted his teeth harder. Apparently not. But, while he might find her attractive, he didn’t have to act like a teenager. He needed to put her at her ease—not