“Sorry,” Ben said, starting guiltily. “I didn’t mean to break it.”
Hannah shrugged. “There’s nothing you can do to hurt that big old lump of rust. I’ve got a lot of work to do before it’s worth anything,” Hannah said. “Go ahead and check it out all you want.”
Ruby tugged on the hem of Hannah’s tank top to regain her attention. “We got lots of pictures last night. Do you want to see?”
“Sure,” Hannah said.
“Okay.” Ruby promptly turned and bolted for home.
“Nothing like an instant response,” Joe said drily.
“I’d better make sure she doesn’t break the camera,” Ben said.
Hannah was smiling as she watched him go, but the moment their eyes met she sobered.
It was the first time they’d been alone since the kiss, and Joe was acutely aware of it. Hannah seemed just as uncomfortable, shuffling her feet and reaching for a rag to clean her already-clean hands. He watched her twist her hands in the soft cloth and wondered if he should apologize for what had happened between them. He’d initiated it, after all. He’d been the one who pushed her against the wall. But she’d hardly been a reluctant participant.
The memory made his blood heat. He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and did some foot shuffling of his own.
“Listen, about last night,” he said.
Hannah’s gaze flew to his face. “I know, it was a mistake. It was stupid—”
“It wasn’t a mistake,” he said before he could edit himself. “That wasn’t what I was going to say.”
“Oh.” She reached for her ponytail, combing her fingers through the ends of her hair for a beat or two. Finally she met his eyes again. “What were you going to say?”
“Come out with me?”
She looked as surprised as he felt. Hadn’t he decided this morning that whatever he was feeling for Hannah was too hard, too confusing, too much for a man in his position?
“You mean on a date?” She said it as though he’d suggested they attempt nuclear fission rather than share a meal.
“Yeah. You, me, no kids. The usual kind of thing.”
“Why?”
She was asking him that after last night? But he could see she was serious and he reminded himself what her mother had told him last night. Hannah’s confidence had taken a huge knock recently.
“Because I like you.”
“Oh.” Her gaze dropped to her feet, but he could see the corners of her mouth curling into a smile.
“What’s so funny?”
“Um, I think I like you, too,” she said.
“You think you like me?” he asked lightly, something inside him relaxing at her words. She was going to say yes. He could feel it.
“Yeah. But we don’t really know that much about each other, do we, to know if we really like each other?”
He knew enough. He knew that she was sexy and strong and too damned appealing for his peace of mind, which was why he was standing in her garage despite his many misgivings.
“That’s what dinner would be about. Getting to know each other a little better, no distractions.”
“But—” She didn’t finish whatever it was she’d been about to say, instead lapsing into a frowning silence.
He took a step closer. “But what?”
She lifted her head and looked straight into his eyes. In an instant all the heat from last night was there between them. He could feel himself growing hard, just from a look.
“Okay. Yes.” She sounded a little breathless. She licked her lips. “I’ll go out with you.”
She looked as dazed as he felt. But she’d said yes. He smiled, and she smiled back at him.
She’d said yes. Now he only had to worry about what the hell that meant, and what happened next.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HANNAH COULDN’T BELIEVE she’d said yes. What had she been thinking? Even if she hadn’t still been grappling with the aftermath of her failed wedding, there was the small matter of her imminent trip around Australia and the fact that Joe had two children to consider. Not exactly your ideal dating scenario.
And yet she’d said yes.
You like him. At least be honest with yourself. You like him, and you think he’s sexy.
Which was why she shaved her legs for the first time in months on Sunday night, and why she chose her best underwear and sprayed on a generous amount of her new perfume. She balked at spending too much time on makeup, however. The Hannah he’d kissed at the fashion parade was not the real her. If he wanted that woman—and she was almost convinced that must be what was going on, since he’d never grabbed her and pressed her against a wall when she was in her work coverall—then he was in for a rude awakening. She chose jeans and a shirt for the same reason, refusing to pretend to be anything other than who she was. She’d played that game with Lucas—grown out her hair, worn more makeup, bought more dresses. Then her sister had come home and cast Hannah well and truly into the shade.
She hadn’t told her mother about the date. She didn’t want Robyn jumping to conclusions or assuming anything. Probably it would be a one-off. No point getting her excited over nothing.
Good advice, Napier. How about taking it yourself?
Because there was no denying the anticipation tap-dancing in her belly. She was half scared, half excited about the prospect of spending a whole evening with Joe. Sitting across the table from him. Talking to him. Thinking about that kiss.
Even if it was probably only going to be a one-off.
She gave herself a quick head to toe. Fitted black shirt with tiny black flowers embroidered on it. Her good dark denim jeans. Her favorite black boots with the Western heel. Her hair was long and loose and she was wearing a touch of mascara and lipstick. She looked about as good as she was ever going to.
She shrugged into her leather jacket and grabbed her wallet. Her mother was chopping vegetables at the kitchen counter and she looked surprised when Hannah appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“You’re going out?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I meant to tell you, but it kind of slipped my mind,” Hannah fibbed.
Her mother took in her loose hair and good shirt in a single glance. The corners of her mouth twitched for a second before she returned her attention to the chopping board. “Not a problem. Have a nice time.”
Hannah suspected her mother knew exactly who she was going out with. She hovered for a moment longer, trying to decide if she should address the issue or not. But her mother didn’t look up again, so Hannah simply shrugged and headed for the door. Joe was waiting by his car already, his hair damp from the shower. He looked good in a dark brown shirt and black jeans. Maybe a little too good—one look at him and her palms got clammy.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
“You look great,” he said, his gaze running appreciatively over her body.
She shrugged, unsure what to say. She’d never known how to handle compliments. Probably through lack of practice. Guys tended not to tell you how nice you looked while you were helping them strip a carbie or beating them at touch football.
“Shall we get going? I booked us a table at an Italian place,” he said.
“Okay.”
She rolled her eyes as she walked to the passenger door. Could she be any less sophisticated? So far she’d managed two words and a shrug. Next she’d be grunting in response to his questions.
She stopped in surprise when she realized Joe had rounded the car to open her door for her.
She muttered a disconcerted thanks as she slid into the car. She wasn’t used to having men wait on her.
She concentrated on securing her seat belt, but she was very aware of his aftershave as he got in beside her and started the engine. Something spicy and mellow that made her think of wood and leather.
She smoothed her hands down her thighs. “So where is this place you’re taking me, anyway?”
“It’s called Il Solito Posto. It’s in a
laneway off Collins Street. One of the guys at work recommended it.”
“Cool.”
“If it sucks, you can help me come up with a suitable punishment for him.”
She laughed. “That’ll teach him to recommend anything.”
“Exactly.”
The restaurant turned out to be partly underground, with windows high in the wall that offered glimpses of the legs of passersby in the bluestone alleyway outside. They were seated in a corner, the fat candle on the small wooden table casting a warm light over them.
“You want something to drink to start with?” Joe asked as they scanned their menus.
Hell, yeah.
Maybe some alcohol would make her feel less stiff and on edge. “That sounds good.”
He ordered a bottle of red for them to share and a plate of antipasto. She chose gnocchi for her main. He chose osso bucco. With the ordering out of the way and wineglasses in front of them, they stared across the table at each other.
“This is nice,” she said lamely.
Good one. Hit him with more of that sparkling banter, Napier.
“Yeah. Place seems good.” He took a hefty slug from his wine then shifted in his chair.
He was regretting his decision. She could see it in every line of his body. He’d asked her out on impulse, maybe because he had been misled by all that hair and makeup the other night, maybe because he’d felt grateful on Ruby’s behalf. And now he was willing the minutes to pass.
“Listen,” they both said simultaneously, leaning forward.
Hannah laughed awkwardly. “You go first,” she said.
Joe cleared his throat. “I was just going to say sorry if I’m a bit rusty. Haven’t done this sort of thing for a while.”
Dull color traced his cheekbones.
Huh. So she wasn’t the only one flailing around here. The knowledge helped loosen the band of tension around her chest. “Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not exactly a social butterfly myself,” she said drily. “I’ve kind of been keeping a low profile lately.”
She took a deep breath, then let it out again. She hated telling anyone about the wedding, but he was bound to hear it from someone eventually. The whole neighborhood knew about it, and if he heard it somewhere else first then he’d think she’d kept it secret on purpose, which would give the wedding far more importance than it deserved.
“I was engaged last year, but the wedding was called off at the last minute,” she said before she could change her mind.
There was a short pause before he answered. “That must have been tough.”
She checked to make sure he wasn’t giving her the pity look. She’d seen it often enough over the past six months to be able to spot it at ten paces. But he simply looked straight at her, his deep blue eyes giving nothing away.
She tightened her grip on her wineglass. Might as well reveal the full horror. “It was called off because my fiancé fell in love with my sister.”
His expression didn’t change; he simply ducked his head in acknowledgment. She narrowed her eyes.
“You already knew, didn’t you? Who told you?”
“Your mom.”
She sat back in her chair, expelling her breath on an exasperated sigh. “Bloody hell. Is nothing sacred?”
“Not where moms are concerned. Talk to mine long enough and she’ll tell you I took twice as long to toilet train as other kids and that when I was fifteen she caught me with my hand up Sally Perkin’s blouse.”
She smiled, even though she made a mental note to have a word with her mother on the subject of discretion. “I guess there’s not much left for me to confess, then.”
“Was that who you were talking to yesterday at the coffee shop? Your ex?”
“You don’t miss much.”
“Used to work on an oil rig. Keeping an eye on what’s going on around me is pretty much a survival skill.”
“Hmm. You know, in a woman that would simply be called plain old nosiness,” she said.
He smiled. “Lucky I’m not a woman, then.”
Her gaze ran over his shoulders and broad chest. He was definitely not a woman. “Lucas wanted to tell me my sister is pregnant.”
Joe went very still, then swore under his breath. “I hope you told him where to get off.”
She liked that he was angry on her behalf. “Not exactly. I congratulated him. I’m not going to waste the rest of my life being angry with them.”
“You a Buddhist or something?”
“Nope. Just sick of feeling like I want to punch something.”
He smiled and she found herself smiling in return. They both sat back as the waiter put a large white platter on the table between them. Hannah surveyed the tempting array of antipasto. Her mouth watered.
“Yum,” she said.
Joe laughed. Then he lifted his glass and tilted it toward her in a toast.
“You’re a gutsy woman, Hannah Napier. But I guess I already knew that about you.”
Because she didn’t know what to do with the warmth in his eyes and tone, she reached for the serving tongs and started filling his plate.
“Thanks,” he said when she’d finished.
She shrugged and slid some stuffed mushrooms onto her own plate.
“So, Ruby tells me you’ve got a big trip planned. Any idea when you’re going to hit the road?” Joe said as he picked up his knife and fork.
“Soon.” Hannah thought about the check she’d deposit first thing Monday morning. “Sooner than I thought, actually. I really only need to wait for the owner of the garage to find someone to take over from me, buy some gear then I’m off.”
There was a small silence. When she glanced up he looked…disappointed. That was the only way she could describe the mix of frustration and regret she saw in his eyes. Then he blinked and it was gone.
“Ruby’s going to miss you,” he said, spearing a chunk of fried polenta with his fork.
What about you? Will you miss me?
She shook the thought off. They hardly knew each other. How could he miss someone he barely knew?
“I’ll miss her, too. She’s been a fantastic help with the Thunderbird.”
“You won’t get to finish restoring it.”
“No. I guess I won’t.”
Their gazes met across the table.
“So, where are you heading for first?” he said, breaking the small silence.
Hannah spent the next twenty minutes doing her bit to clear the platter of delicious Italian morsels while detailing her planned route to him.
“So you’re going to camp most of the time?” he asked.
“If I can. The weather is good and I think it’s the best way to see the country.”
“Not going to miss hot and cold running water and all the mod cons?”
She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. “Not a fan of the great outdoors, Joe?”
“Me? I love it. Always have. Beth couldn’t stand it. Had to have a roof over her head, air-conditioning, running water, you name it.”
The name came out of his mouth so casually, so naturally, but they both stilled. It was the first time he’d ever mentioned his wife to her. He fiddled with the stem of his wineglass for a few seconds. “Beth was my wife,” he said.
She nodded. She could see this was hard for him, and she guessed that it wasn’t something he talked about very often.
“How did she die?” she asked, trying to make it easier for him since he seemed determined to address the issue.
He frowned slightly. “How did you…?”
“Ruby.”
“Ah.”
“Seems the family telegraph has been working for both of us,” she joked. Anything to ease the desolate look that had come into his eyes.
“It was a car accident. I was up north on the rig and she was driving to collect Ben from karate practice. A driver ran a red light, smashed into her car.”
His knuckles were white, and she was afraid he was going to snap the stem in
half. She reached across the table and laid her hand over his.
“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.”
He stared at her, his expression bleak. Then something in him seemed to relax. “It’s more that I’m out of practice. It’s been two years. And people don’t exactly line up to talk about it.”
“I can imagine,” she said drily.
“The worst of it was that she didn’t die straightaway. She had massive head and internal injuries. They operated while I flew down to Sydney from the rig. She died before the plane landed.”
She tried to imagine the torture of sitting on a plane, hoping against hope that her loved one would survive, willing the plane to fly faster, get there sooner, only to arrive to the worst possible news.
“I’m so sorry. That must have been a terrible thing to come home to.”
“Yeah. Worst flight of my life. I was almost too scared to turn my cell phone on when we landed. Then my mom called.”
He blinked a few times and her chest ached for him. She had no words of comfort to offer. What was there to say, after all? If she knew him better, she would have simply stood and rounded the table to put her arms around him. But she didn’t, so she sat quietly while he took a swallow of wine.
“Sorry. Like I said, out of practice,” he said.
“Tough memories.”
He nodded.
The waiter cleared the platter and their side plates. Hannah took advantage of the moment to pull herself together. Watching the grief on Joe’s face, it had suddenly hit her that he was still hung up on his dead wife. And that meant that anything that happened between them was, by definition, doomed to failure.
Hello? You’re about to hit the road. What does it matter if he’s over his dead wife or not? It means nothing to you. He means nothing to you. One kiss does not give you the right to feel disappointed.
But the fact was that she couldn’t help looking at Joe and seeing a world of what-ifs. What if they’d met at another time, when she’d been less angry and he’d been less hurt? What if either of them had been prepared to take the risk of loving someone again? Because she had the feeling that Joe Lawson was a man it would be very easy to love.
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