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 always stuck by the more is less theory, so I look forward to seeing it. Now, let’s eat.’
However, as he passed her the salad he had the distinct impression that eating was the last activity she wanted to do and, for the second time in as many minutes, wondered what deep, dark secrets Keely Rhodes harboured.
Keely trailed her fingers over the book spines, reading the titles but not really absorbing them. If she’d been nervous earlier, it was nothing compared to now. Dinner had been a breeze, with Lachlan switching to small talk after their initial hiccup over his bikini joke and she’d soon relaxed.
However, she’d known it wouldn’t last, and as the evening drew to a close the butterflies in her stomach took flight. Though he’d deposited her overnight bag in the spare room when they’d arrived at his beach house, she knew that didn’t necessarily mean she would be sleeping in there.
She hadn’t been this attracted to a man before, and though she continued focusing on work—apart from her earlier lapse into flirt mode while he barbecued—her mind kept drifting to fantasies of getting intimate in the bedroom.
He hadn’t helped matters much, stripping out of that wetsuit back at the beach and asking her to hold his towel up as a shield from prying eyes as he changed. The only problem with that was her eyes had been the ones doing most of the prying! Though she’d done her best to avert her gaze, she was only human and couldn’t help but take a peek.
And, boy, had it been worth it!
An expanse of tanned skin covered rippling muscles that belonged on an elite athlete rather than a psychologist who surfed part-time. And that butt …
She was sure the towel had slipped a notch as her hands shook while she checked out the doc’s hidden talents.
‘See anything that interests you?’
She jumped as he entered the lounge room, knocking half a dozen hardback novels off the shelf in the process.
Rather than rushing to her aid, as she’d expected him to do, he chuckled and sat down. ‘I’d offer to help, but one concussion a week is more than enough for me.’
‘Very funny.’ She bent to pick up the books, wondering if she’d ever be cured of her clumsiness. The way he intruded on her thoughts constantly, she doubted it. ‘Thanks for dinner, by the way. It was delicious.’
‘No problem. Wait till you see what I’ve got for dessert.’
She almost upended the books a second time. So much for putting a dampener on her imagination. With his words, she conjured up an instant vivid image of strawberries, whipped cream and the two of them sharing dessert … in very inventive ways!
‘I haven’t really got a sweet tooth,’ she said, aiming for nonchalant when she knew she could easily forgo the edible dessert in favour of something much more enticing—like him on a platter.
‘Couldn’t be weight-related.’
And, just like that, the cosy atmosphere shattered.
Thankful he couldn’t see her face as she rearranged the shelf, she swallowed the lump of emotion that lodged in her throat, mentally kicking herself for believing a guy like Lachlan could be different.
Every man she’d ever known had been obsessed about looks and weight, often making jokes about ‘fat chicks’ who didn’t care about their appearance, or chuckling over advertisements for weight loss centres. She’d learned to steel herself against their cruel judgements, despite the urge to smack them silly.
As for taking a swipe at her own eating habits, only one guy she’d casually dated had ever made that mistake—and she’d let him have it, after accidentally spilling her wine over his crotch.
Lachlan had made several remarks about her body since they’d met and, though he probably saw them as innocuous, she knew what they really were—a sign that he was just like the rest of the guys she’d ever known, hung-up over looks and little else. Not to mention a clear indication she shouldn’t get involved, no matter how much her body kept telling her otherwise.
He didn’t pick up on her stiffening or, if he did, he didn’t let on. ‘You don’t need to worry about that, you look great. Trust me, you’ll love this.’
His qualifier didn’t help. What if she didn’t look great? Would he even give her the time of day? She doubted it. No male had, not till she’d shed half her bodyweight and almost died in the process.
As for trust, she’d believed in it too many times to count and had been let down every time. People, especially men, were notorious for saying the T word and then doing their best to give you reasons to mistrust them.
Lighten up. Before he takes his business and your chance at promotion elsewhere.
Taking a steadying breath, she turned to face him. ‘What is it?’
‘Close your eyes and let me guide you to it.’
‘This better be good,’ she said, allowing him to guide her through the room and out the door. When in actual fact she felt like bolting through it and not looking back.
‘Oh, it’s better than good.’
His hands were lightly resting on her hips as he gently propelled her forwards, and her skin fairly sizzled where he touched her. Damn her hormones! One minute she thought he was an insensitive clod, the next she wanted to jump him. She needed to get a grip on her wayward emotions—and fast—before she got a grip on him.
‘Just a few more steps … Okay, open your eyes.’
‘How did you know?’ She looked at the plate piled high with doughnuts of every description, from cinnamon-dusted to choc-iced, her mouth watering at the sight.
Okay, so he’d actually meant dessert when he’d said it. Then why did she feel like a child who had just been told that Santa Claus didn’t exist?
He grinned and offered her the plate. ‘I saw the way you were eyeing off my doughnut the other day. If I hadn’t eaten half of it already, I reckon you would’ve snatched it out of my hand and gobbled it in one go.’
‘Very observant.’
If he only knew. She hadn’t just been staring at the doughnut when he’d walked into her office, but at the way his lips had been dusted in sugar and cinnamon, shaken by how much she wanted to lick it off.
‘I’ve heard the way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach.’ He demolished two doughnuts to her one and she chuckled at his genuine enjoyment. ‘So, sweet tooth or not, dig in.’
Choosing to ignore his earlier jibe about weight for the sake of her job, she selected a choc-iced, silently vowing it would be her one and only. Though she could’ve quite happily eaten the whole plate, her weekly allocation would be blown. She’d have to attend a Pilates class every day of the week to keep in shape.
Though she’d come a long way from her overweight days, the scare she’d received after collapsing, and the resultant devastating news that she wouldn’t bear children, acted as a constant reminder to nurture her body rather than abuse it.
These days she enjoyed every morsel of food that passed her lips, exercised regularly and accepted her