by Nicola Marsh
For one crazy, irrational second she wanted to run to meet him. The thought alone was enough to eradicate her sudden breathlessness and have her focussing on work.
‘How’s it going?’
‘Fine.’
He raised a brow at her abrupt response and she glanced away, pretending to study the markers already scattering the ground.
‘Productive morning?’
‘Uh-huh.’
An awkward silence descended and she shuffled documents, flipped through plans, studying them as if they held the answers to eternal youth.
‘Still happy to work tomorrow?’
He’d lowered his voice, and its deep timbre strummed her like a caress, her body responding on a visceral level that scared the heck out of her.
‘Yeah.’
If he was tiring of her monosyllabic answers he didn’t show it.
‘Great. I’ll pick you up at your place around six.’
And have early riser Coral accidentally-on-purpose orchestrate a meeting? Not likely.
‘I can drive.’
He glared at her VW. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘I’ll borrow Mum’s car—’
‘I’ll be there at six.’
To her astonishment, he walked away, leaving her wanting to tell him what he could do with his orders.
But as she watched him meet up with a few of the managers and gesture towards the land, his animation obvious even at a distance, some of her animosity at his command waned. It made sense for him to drive. Car-pooling preserved the ozone. It wasn’t his fault she couldn’t stop thinking about him or those distracting kisses.
Judging by his authoritative behaviour, he hadn’t given them a second thought.
Good. At least one of them was thinking clearly.
As for the potential problem with matchmaking Coral? Time to shout her mum a treat.
CHAPTER NINE
GEMMA didn’t feel the slightest twinge of guilt when she bundled her mum off to a swanky South Yarra day-spa for a Saturday-morning facial.
Coral had been sweetly surprised and very eager to head out. After scribbling a nondescript note saying she’d be out all day and late back, Gemma flung a few essentials into her backpack and waited impatiently for Rory to arrive.
The faster they hit the road, the less likely she’d be to call today off. She’d been tempted—boy, had she been tempted. Seeing him yesterday on the job site after the picnic episode had erected an unseen wall between them; she’d been stilted and nervous, he’d been aloof and distant. Who knew how they’d manage to interact one-on-one today?
When his Merc slid to a smooth stop in front of the house she hitched her backpack higher and bounded down the path, eager to get underway.
She almost stumbled when he got out, walked around the car and opened the passenger door. His impeccable manners were not surprising, but the simple action reminded her of her dad. He’d always used to open doors for Coral and her—a small thing she’d forgotten until now.
Sadness lodged in her throat but she cleared it, pasting on a bright smile as she neared the car.
‘Right on time.’
He gave a funny little half-bow. ‘Was there ever any doubt?’
‘Punctuality is part of the workaholic’s handbook, so I guess not.’
The corners of his mouth twitched. ‘Hey, I’m heading out of town for the day. Does that sound like a workaholic to you?’
‘Considering you’re heading out of town for work, that’d be a resounding yeah.’ She pointed at the car boot. ‘Bet you’ve got a laptop stored in there.’
‘Care to sweeten that bet?’
‘Sure.’
He hooked his fingers beneath the straps of her backpack to help her shrug out of it, effectively trapping her, and she tried not to breathe in his addictive masculine scent.
‘What did you have in mind?’
She pondered, while her imagination took flight, envisaging him giving a little tug on the straps, bringing their bodies so close she could feel his radiant heat.
There were so many bets that sprang to mind, most of them X-rated, but she couldn’t make a flirty joke—not when he hadn’t cracked a smile yet. Regardless of that picnic kiss, they had to focus on business.
Tell that to her inner mischief-maker, hell-bent on getting Mr Conservative to lighten up.
‘Okay, here’s the deal. If there’s a laptop in there, we get to play hooky for a while today. If there’s no laptop, you work to your heart’s content the whole day.’
At last a breakthrough. Interest flared in his eyes. ‘Sounds doable. As long as you don’t have me diving with sharks if I lose.’
‘Would I do that?’
He shot her a dubious glance as he slid the straps off her shoulders and held the backpack in one hand as if it weighed nothing.
‘Guess we better pop this boot and see who wins?’
‘You’re on.’
Gemma crossed her fingers behind her back. While she was all for work, they needed to lose the residual awkwardness from that kiss. If he was anything like her he’d retreated because of it, and the way they’d connected.
She hadn’t expected his candour. Most guys would have lied about why they’d kissed her when she’d asked, even though that first kiss when he’d picked her up hadn’t been particularly passionate.
But he’d revealed he liked her and his inherent honesty had blown her away. If she’d back-pedalled, too scared to lower her defences, how must he be feeling? A guy who confessed he didn’t do complications would be petrified.
She’d withdrawn yesterday. He seemed determined to continue their emotional avoidance today. She couldn’t blame him for it—not when she agreed—but the thought of spending her Saturday working with this tension between them didn’t sound fun.
‘Do you want to do the honours or should I?’
He held out the car’s remote control. ‘Go ahead. I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of your fun and games.’
Annoyed by his impassivity, she grabbed the remote and hit the button, inadvertently holding her breath as the boot popped. When he raised it to place her backpack inside, she scanned the huge space: golf clubs, gym bag, no laptop. Dammit.
He gestured towards the boot, the hint of a grin playing about his mouth. ‘Well?’
Not giving up that easily, she pointed to the gym bag. ‘Could be in there.’
‘Why don’t you open it and see?’
‘And rifle through your undies? No, thanks.’
The imp in her rejoiced as he blushed and held up his hands.
‘You win. My laptop’s stored under the passenger seat.’
‘Gotcha!’
She did a little victory shimmy, and at last he smiled.
‘Fine. We get to play hooky after we’ve put in a solid six hours work.’
‘Good. Even workaholics need to play every now and then,’ she said, her gaze drawn to his mouth, remembering exactly how fantastic he could be while playing.
She’d never been a weak-kneed, belly-flopping female, but when she tore her gaze from his mouth, only to see the blatant yearning in his eyes, her knees shook and her stomach tumbled.
He’d given a resounding answer to her unspoken question as to whether he still felt the spark.
‘You’re playing with fire,’ he said, his expression reverting to guarded as he closed the boot and guided her to the passenger seat, his hand in the small of her back gently supportive.
For a confirmed independent gal, it felt nice to be supported for once.
As long as she didn’t get used to it.
‘We’re almost there.’
Gemma struggled to consciousness, trapped halfway between a luscious dream of waking up next to Rory and the startling reality of having his voice next to her.
‘You’ve slept the whole way.’
Opening her eyes, she blinked, yawned and stretched, her confusion clearing as she remembered where she was.
‘We’re in Portsea
already?’
‘Yeah, easy drive without peak-hour traffic.’
‘Did I really sleep the whole way?’
‘The moment we hit the freeway about five minutes from your place.’
She grimaced and used her pinkie to wipe the gritty sleep from the corners of her eyes, before making a subtle dab around her mouth, hoping she hadn’t drooled.
‘Some travel companion I make.’
‘The snoring was rather soothing after a while.’
Mortified, she couldn’t look at him. ‘I don’t snore.’
‘Keep telling yourself that.’
He chuckled and, glancing over his shoulder, turned left, slowing the car as he pulled into the project’s makeshift car park. ‘Next time I’m investing in a decent pair of earplugs.’
She whacked him and he laughed, the sound giving her hope that he’d loosen up after all.
In a way, falling asleep had been a bonus, as she’d avoided the small-talk nightmare they’d had on the way back from the Yarra Valley. Yet a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if she’d been awake.
Would they have delved deeper into that moment they’d had outside the car at her place? Would they have moved beyond discussing their families onto something more meaningful, like their hopes and dreams? Or would he have retreated again? She’d bet the latter.
Stepping from the car, she stretched, marvelling at the view. The lights of the Mornington Peninsula twinkled in the early-morning dimness, curving around the bay like the fine diamonds on Coral’s bracelet.
Thinking of her mum and the jewellery she could have sold rather than her dad’s land if she needed money soured her mood, and she wrapped her arms around her middle.
‘Cold?’
‘A little,’ she said, but her inner frostiness was from the loss of something emotionally valuable rather than the chilly sea breeze.
‘You’ll warm up soon enough.’ She shot him a glance and he rolled his eyes. ‘From work. What do you think? I’m going to jump you?’
She could always live in hope.
He compressed his lips, regretting his comment, but there was no disguising his eyes, darkened with desire, and her body flushed, warmth oozing through her like heated honey.
She knew what she wanted.
For him to slide his hand into hers and tug her towards him. For him to say Screw work. Let’s play. For him to admit they’d started something neither of them might understand or want but couldn’t deny.
She wanted to live in the moment, forget her inherent fears and insecurities and open herself to this guy in every way.
What she wanted was irrelevant, considering he didn’t say a word as he spun on his heel and marched towards the site office, unlocking the door and entering without looking back.
So that was how it was going to be.
Well, he could retreat all he liked and bury himself in work—but later today, during their down time, she’d get him to unwind if it killed her.
CHAPTER TEN
RORY liked working weekends. Liked the peace and quiet while people bustled between sporting games and shopping malls and barbecues. Liked the amount of work he caught up on. Liked the ability to focus without interruption.
Sadly, that wasn’t happening today.
Not entirely fair, as Gemma wasn’t interrupting so much as distracting. His fault, not hers.
He glanced at her strolling along the beach and speaking into a Dictaphone, her head constantly moving as she looked around. She’d been a dervish of activity since they’d arrived at Portsea at seven-thirty, surveying the beach, making amendments to her recommendations, jotting notes.
He liked the fact she kept out of his way. Gave him time to figure out what the hell he’d been thinking, inviting her for the day to work.
Work? Right. What a joke.
Their word games, their sparring, their parry and retreat rammed home what he’d suspected. Today was about being with her rather than any great desire to work.
And keeping his hands off her was slowly but surely killing him.
He’d tried to be the epitome of the polite business acquaintance/friend, had tried to maintain a distance. But she’d undermined him with her silly bets and loaded looks and crazy earrings.
Those earrings really bugged him. Rose quartz sea lions today, their frivolity in stark contrast to the rest of her practicality. A woman who wore khaki cargoes, a brown T-shirt, beige hiking jacket and steel-capped boots shouldn’t wear giddy earrings. They got him wondering … Would she be light-hearted and playful in other areas of her life, particularly the bedroom, once stripped of her practical armour?
Damn, he couldn’t keep thinking like this.
He never second-guessed any decision he made. When he wanted something in the business arena he made it happen. No room for uncertainty. So why this burning desire to yell Screw work, sweep Gemma off her feet and head straight for the privacy of the sand dunes?
As if sensing his stare, she looked up and waved, her ponytail whipping in the gusty wind, her face glowing. Her clothes might be plain but in that moment, silhouetted against the morning sun, which gilded her hair and created a halo around her, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
He returned her wave, knowing he should head back to the site office and type up some last minute ideas he’d had to improve driveway access. Instead he found himself heading down the rickety wooden steps to the beach.
She met him halfway and his chest almost caved with the weight of pretending they were nothing more than work colleagues.
His earlier assessment hadn’t done her justice. Up close, he saw a faint pink flushed her cheeks, accentuating the incredible blue of her eyes, and her smile was a poleaxing combination of joy and wickedness.
‘Was wondering when you’d give up on the boring stuff up there and head down to the beach where it’s all happening.’
He couldn’t help but return her smile. ‘That “boring stuff up there” is what you’re being paid to ensure doesn’t impact on down here.’
She snapped her fingers. ‘I knew I was here for a reason.’
He stared at the ocean, unable to bear her radiant smile a second longer. They needed to get back on solid ground, work ground, and forget the teasing—no matter how light-hearted. It would be his undoing.
He cleared his throat. ‘What did you think of the amended plan on the high-end homes?’
Her right eyebrow twitched, the only sign she was surprised by his abrupt switch from playful to business.
‘Love it.’ Her gaze swung to the land on their left. ‘Angling the upper storey will capture the sun perfectly, enhancing utilisation of solar power.’
‘That’s the idea.’
He followed her line of vision, imagining the finished product: opulent three-storey mansions, rendered pale mocha to blend in with the sandy surrounds, expansive floor-to-ceiling glass windows, contemporary angles adding uniqueness.
He loved the luxury homes Devlin Corp built, had admired them since he was a kid, when his grandfather used to take him from site to site. Back then he’d thought they were palaces fit for kings and queens. His parents’ open plan home had been the signature design back then.
Pity the queen hadn’t stuck around and the king had kept trying to fill her shoes with ugly stepsisters.
He was mixing his metaphors. Better than mixing business with pleasure.
‘And dropping the water tanks underground is a stroke of genius.’
He couldn’t help but be buzzed by her praise. ‘They’re a bit of an eyesore. Better not to detract from all this.’
He gestured towards the beach around them, and this time her eyebrow arched all the way.
‘Careful, you’re almost sounding human.’
‘Just because I’m a businessman it doesn’t mean I’ve lost sight of the bigger picture.’
He held up a finger when she opened her mouth to respond.
‘But the sea wall on th
e highest point of the beach stays.’
She paled. ‘But that will exclude the sand behind the wall from the normal onshore and offshore movement characteristic of normal beach behaviour.’
Making a wisecrack about beach behaviour at this point wouldn’t be a smart move—not when her playfulness had vanished, replaced by five feet six inches of fervent, riled environmentalist.
‘It could make the beach unusable for long periods after heavy wave action, and considering the people who’ll live here that’s sad.’
‘There’s plenty more beach access around here. It’s only a small section.’
She sighed, her exasperation audible. ‘You’re already developing a park on the upper part of the beach. That’s cutting off a vital reserve of sand for the beach during erosion phases, when the sand is moved off the beach by waves. Any sea wall, no matter how small, can lead to severe depletion of dune sand and ultimately no beach.’
While she’d kept her tone surprisingly calm, her chest heaved with the effort of her conviction. He wanted to bundle her into his arms and squeeze her tight.
He was proud of her—proud of her convictions, her knowledge, her dedication to preserving nature.
‘Let me look over the proposed plans again and I’ll see what I can do.’
Her answering grin had enough power to slug him where he feared it most: his heart.
‘You get it, don’t you?’
He held up a finger in warning. ‘I said I’d take another look at the plans. If it’s economically feasible, I’m willing to implement changes. You’ve already twisted my arm to include your marine conservation centre. Don’t push your luck.’
She screwed up her nose. ‘Yuck, you’re going all corporate bottom-dollar on me.’
‘I have investors to consider, shareholders too—’
‘I know what’ll convince you.’
She did a funny little dance that kicked up sand and he couldn’t help but laugh.
‘What are you up to?’
‘Leave everything to me. This afternoon when we’re playing hooky I’m taking you to meet some friends, and if they can’t convince you to help preserve this beautiful marine environment, nothing will.’