The Protea Boys

by Téa Cooper

  Too quickly the shed came into sight, and Georgie pulled away. Tom wanted to put her right back where she’d been, wanted her to go on talking, wanted her to tell him her whole life story, wanted to heal the ache in her heart. An ache he recognized only too well. But the moment was over. As much as he hated to have to admit it, she had also seriously impressed him. He’d certainly seen a different side to this feisty lady—and lady she was, despite the dreadful cargo pants and work boots. She had pluck and courage, and she was incredibly beautiful, even with the grease smudge across her cheek. In fact, the smudge had the same effect as those beauty marks of Elizabethan days. It accentuated the purple of her eyes. Purple like the water lilies in South Africa.

  Tom’s throat contracted, and need for her coursed through him. Without thinking, he caught her around the waist and pulled her to him. Their legs tangled, and they collapsed on the dirt. For a brief moment, the tiny stones of the gravel ground against his back, and her full weight pressed down on him. His body snapped to attention as though he had touched an electric fence. Then he lifted his lips to hers, and her mouth tasted the way he imagined it would—fresh and clean like newly mown grass, without a trace of diesel.

  ***

  With her heart in her mouth and her pulse racketing like the old diesel engine, Georgie struggled to escape. The gravel bit into her hands, and every inch of Tom’s long, muscular body imprinted itself on hers. The taste of his mouth clung to her lips, and a wave of heat rocketed through her. She sprang to her feet and brushed herself down, then reached for the bucket of tools, intent on putting as much space as possible between herself and the lethal body lying at her feet.

  The crunch of her boots on the gravel seemed to fill the air when she crossed to the tap and turned it on; she furiously splashed the cold water over her face and then sank her hands into the bucket below as it filled to the brim. Her blood cooled, allowing fragments of rational thoughts to skitter into her brain, and she blew a long gust of air between her burning lips.

  Holy hell.

  Georgie had wanted up close and personal, and he’d delivered. She gulped and then froze as his hands encircled her waist and pivoted her slowly. Piercing green eyes ringed with tawny golden flecks stared deep into hers, and she shivered at the crackle of anticipation in the atmosphere.

  Desperate to distract the intensity of his gaze and the fluttering in her stomach, she pulled away and leaned down to pick up the bucket of water. Without a second thought, she upended it all over Tom.

  In slow motion, the water curved in a perfect arc, and the crystal wave hit his head and poured over his shoulders, darkening his T-shirt. He moved quickly but not quickly enough. Tiny droplets of water clung to his eyelashes, and something flared in his eyes. He shook his head as if he were surfacing from a swimming pool and his wet T-shirt hugged his body, emphasizing the sculpted muscles underneath.

  “Right! You asked for it.” Tom picked up the hose and twisted the orange fitting. The fierce stream of water caught her right on her shoulder, and the water cascaded over her.

  “No! No! Please, stop.” Georgie screamed with laughter, her stomach aching, until Tom finally angled the hose away from her. Her stomach lurched, and the laughter died on her lips.

  A pulse throbbed under the tanned skin of Tom’s neck, and all she wanted to do was lower her mouth onto it, cup his face in her hand, and wrap herself in his arms, press tightly against him, and soothe the perpetual ache of longing that had grown inside her since she first set eyes on him. A potent mixture of thrill and embarrassment rolled around like a mist, filling every corner of her mind and body.

  Georgie faced Tom; her heart pumped wildly, and she deposited her hands on her hips, staring directly at him with a proud defiance. His gaze latched on to her peaked breasts, outlined beneath her wet shirt. Then he stepped to within an inch of her, making her acutely aware of him; her nipples strained painfully taut, and every muscle in her body contracted in response to his fixed stare.

  The last remaining sliver of air rushed out between her open lips when he dragged her body flush against his. Georgie settled her palms flat on his chest, and he sucked in a deep breath, making his body contract and quiver beneath her touch. Liquid fire coiled through their wet T-shirts; her pulsing blood left her limbs weak and her senses spinning.

  Throwing caution aside, she tilted her head back and pressed a long, openmouthed kiss to his lips. He buried his hands in her wet hair and pulled her head back, his lips crushing her, his teeth bruising her lower lip, and his moist, hot tongue plunging into her mouth, taking a total control that she was more than happy to accept.

  A deep moan echoed in her throat, and she swayed against him as he deepened the kiss. She swung her arms around his shoulders, dug her fingers into the wet hair at his nape, and dragged him closer. All she wanted was for this to go on forever and never stop. Georgie closed her eyes and allowed the myriad of unknown sensations to course through her body until Tom jerked away as though scalded, leaving her gasping, her breath ragged and uneven. Her eyes snapped open to see Tom staring at her...staring at her as though he had never seen her before, and then he pushed her away and turned his back.

  The sudden loss of Tom’s body heat made a chill run down Georgie’s spine, and she strove to regain her equilibrium. After what seemed like an agony of indecision and confusion, her vision cleared, and she looked past his retreating back to see a red Ute skidding to a halt. Her heart plummeted when Matt opened the passenger door, and Hillary swiveled out.

  “Fantastic! We caught you.”

  Too right they have.

  Georgie groaned and shook her head in disbelief. The roll of Tom’s eyes as he rearranged his wet T-shirt belied the welcoming grin he plastered on his face before he clapped Matt on the shoulder.

  As Hillary teetered across the gravel from the car toward her, an impish grin flickered around her cyclamen-pink lips, and Georgie’s stomach sank.

  “All work and no play makes...well, I’m not sure I know what it makes, but it looks like you have managed to combine the two quite successfully.” Hillary performed an exaggerated wink and batted her eyelashes.

  “Hi, Hill.” Georgie smiled, praying she could keep the telltale blush from spreading to her face and control her urge to pant. “What can I do for you?” She swallowed and sucked in another breath of air. “All dressed up and nowhere to go?”

  “Ooh no! We’ve got places to go and people to meet.” Hillary’s gaze drifted hungrily to Matt, and Georgie couldn’t resist checking to see if she was licking her lips. “We just wondered if you’d like to join us. We’re going to go and do a bit of wine tasting and grab something for dinner.”

  “Thanks. But no thanks.” A butter knife would have had trouble with the atmosphere, but there was no way Georgie was going to allow Hillary to cross-examine her in front of Matt and Tom. The situation demanded tough action. “Tonight’s the Chamber of Commerce meeting. Aren’t you going? You usually do.”

  “I’d forgotten.” Georgie stared intently at Hillary as she replied; her reward was a brief flush of color.

  Payback.

  “Other, more pressing matters?” Georgie smiled sweetly as her breathing returned to normal.

  “Hmm.” Hillary interlocked her fingers and rubbed her palms together. “You don’t usually go to the Chamber meetings, do you?” Her gaze flickered to Tom’s broad, wet back.

  “No, not often, but it seemed like a good idea. The chairman rang and asked if I’d like to address the meeting. Remind everyone about the farm and explain our business venture, remember? The Protea Boys and how the business works.” She glanced down at her waterlogged watch. “I said I would.” She plastered a sanctimonious grin on her face and raised an eyebrow.

  Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing Hillary and Matt had arrived. Georgie only had about an hour to get herself cleaned up and presentable before she had to stand up in front of the meeting and convince everyone in the village they should have a bunch of proteas ado
rning their business premises. And that she was an upstanding member of the local community and not a floozy who couldn’t get enough of the first man who’d taken any notice of her in a long time. “In fact if I don’t get a move on, I’ll be late.”

  She shivered slightly as Tom returned to her side. “I’ve got to go too,” he interrupted with a discreet wink. “I’ve volunteered myself for waiter duty tonight.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Terrible.” Georgie threw the dress down on the bed, where the pile of discarded clothes grew ominously higher. “I really don’t want to go,” she muttered as she disappeared once more into the back of her walk-in wardrobe. After rummaging through the remnants of her past life, she finally pulled out a navy blue linen shift and twisted it around on the hanger.

  Better.

  Holding it up against her body, she stared into the full-length mirror and squared her shoulders. What she really wanted was a burkha, something to cover her from head to foot, hide her traitorous body. But no. It wasn’t an option; blue linen would have to do.

  Georgie wasn’t worried about addressing the Chamber of Commerce meeting. She could do it standing on her head. More the fact that the meeting was being held at Nick’s restaurant, and the last thing she needed was Tom Morgan looking at her as though she were something from a wet T-shirt competition. She peered closely in the mirror just to make sure she had scrubbed all the remaining traces of diesel oil, and passion, from her face and blew out a long, slow breath. The entire afternoon had been ridiculous. What was the matter with her? Rolling around in the dirt and then chucking the bucket of water all over him. And—she huffed at her reflection in the mirror—she’d behaved like a sex-crazed teenager by practically crawling down his throat. Her stomach did a quick twist, and she looked more closely into the mirror, running her fingers over her reddened lips. She might have behaved like a sex-crazed teenager, but he certainly hadn’t acted like a geriatric and hadn’t complained or run away, at least not until Hillary and Matt had arrived.

  Once she had slipped the dress over her head, Georgie pulled her hair up into a neat chignon that totally belied the confusion in her head and stared down at her feet.

  Shoes.

  Another trip to the back of the wardrobe produced a pair of navy suede sandals. She slipped them on and walked across the room as her calf muscles stretched. It had been a long time since she’d worn heels.

  Makeup.

  Earrings.

  She checked her watch, horrified at the ridiculous amount of time it had taken her to get changed. Had she always spent this long getting ready? She used to dress this way for work every day. But then, in those days she was out to impress and show Dale he’d made the right decision leaving his wife for her.

  Madness.

  With one last check in the mirror, she grabbed her clutch and headed for the car.

  ***

  By the time Georgie reached the village, the lights from Nick’s restaurant illuminated the cobbled street. Through the window, groups of people stood around, chatting with glasses of wine in their hands, and muted conversation flowed out into the night air. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and stepped carefully across the polished timber floors, praying she wouldn’t plant herself in such an ignominious way as she had the last time she’d walked through the door.

  “Georgina. I’m so glad you could make it.” David Roberts, the president of the Chamber, greeted her. “We’ll start in a few moments. Can I get you a glass of wine?”

  “No, no thanks, I’ll wait until after my presentation.” She needed a clear head, even if she was only speaking to people she knew. Taking a quick look around the room, nodding to various people, she sat down on one of the chairs facing the front of the room. Tom was nowhere to be seen.

  Thank goodness.

  Settled in the chair, she listened to the opening address while she waited for her turn to speak, thankful it was something she had done a million times before. Her nerves were ragged enough after the afternoon water fight.

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen, I’d like you to welcome Georgina Martin. You all know the protea farm, so she is no stranger to you. She has agreed to tell us a little of her future plans for expanding the business and her latest enterprise, which I suspect we’ll all find very useful. Please welcome Georgina.” The polite applause echoed around her as she made her way to the front of the room.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Georgie began. “Thank you so much for your kind welcome. As David said, I have reopened the protea farm, and we are back in business. I’ll leave some business cards and brochures after the meeting. Please feel free to take one and don’t hesitate to call me if I can help with anything from individual blooms to wedding arrangements. I intend to expand the business, and I have plans for several new varieties of proteas...”

  ***

  Tom moved quietly into the doorway, intent on staying out of Georgie’s line of vision. Barely able to restrain the whistle from escaping between his teeth, he gaped in amazement at the woman he had last seen dripping wet and covered in diesel oil. Diesel mechanic appeared to be the least of her talents. She was a quick-change artist as well.

  “We have a team of four men, headed by Tom Morgan...”

  At his name, the audience turned their eyes on him, and Tom’s attention was drawn away from his scrutiny of Georgie. Her gaze followed the movement of the crowd, and a faint blush crept up her neck as they locked eyes.

  As she faltered for a moment, his stomach lurched. Quite why he wasn’t sure. If he’d been asked, he would have assured anyone it was because he was feeling for her, and he didn’t want to disturb her presentation, but he was pretty certain it was because the moment they had locked gazes and he had seen her purple eyes darken before the blush tinted her face, he had known she was remembering the feel of his lips. The only problem was he wasn’t only remembering the feel of her lips. He stretched and pulled himself upright away from the wall, thankful he stood at the side of the room and the attention of the audience was once more on Georgina.

  The memory of her pressed tightly against his body was playing havoc with his self-control. He stifled the groan in the back of his throat. More than anything in the world he wanted to drag her away into some quiet, secluded space where he could explore the indefinable chemistry existing between them. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry and gritty, and concentrated on her presentation.

  Georgie was a professional. She had the audience eating out of her hand, and if he ever needed PR work done, there was no one else he would call. Her presentation was focused and clear; there was no sign of hesitancy, just clear headedness and the knowledge she was delivering exactly the information she intended.

  Tom recognized her steadfast gaze well enough now. When she concentrated, her eyes were a disturbing blend of indigo and violet, laced with deepest lavender. They reminded him of water lilies in the veldt or newly mined amethysts, all the more startling against the myriad of colors making up her hair, bleached by the sun into a hue as startling as lioness’s pelt. He grinned wryly, pushing away the memory of the flash of untamed passion he’d roused earlier in the day.

  The navy linen shift hung from her shoulders, displaying more than a hint of her perfect figure. The long string of pearls drew his eye from her neck toward her breasts. Her long, suntanned legs were smooth and sculpted by the high-heeled sandals. No wonder she wore cargo pants and T-shirts. The Protea Boys would be riveted to their brush cutters and no one would get any work done if she dressed like that every day. He’d known all along, from the first moment she’d landed at his feet, there was something special underneath the disheveled image she chose to present to the world.

  Maybe chiffon dresses and shady hats weren’t her style. Georgie had a style all her own, and it screamed confidence and poise. It must have taken something pretty huge for her to bury herself here in the village away from the Sydney high life, because dressed the way she was tonight, it was more than obv
ious the city was where she belonged.

  The applause brought him from his reverie, and he slipped quietly out of the room, back to the job he had sworn he wasn’t going to take. It was a good job he loved his brother.

  Picking up the tray of filled champagne flutes, he returned to the meeting. Listening had obviously been thirsty work, and it took several circuits of the room and several trays of champagne flutes before he finally found himself heading toward Georgie. Laughing and talking to Ann, the owner of one of the guesthouses in town, she managed to look every part the successful society businesswoman.

  “So most of the people in town have been really supportive, and I’m filling orders here at least two days a week and taking the rest of the pick to the distributors for the Sydney markets.”

  “But I don’t see any of your lovely flowers here,” Ann said, looking around the packed room.

  Tom reached the two women, and an amused grin spread across Georgina’s face.

  Wait for it. Here it comes.

  “No. No proteas here. They don’t like them. Do they, Tom?” Her sweet smile coupled with the steely look in her eyes made him want to grab hold of her and pull her into a tight, very tight, embrace, but he had his hands full with more than one feisty lady. The champagne flutes rattled against the tray when he returned her grin.

  “Too many memories of South Africa for me, but we should probably check with my brother. I’m just the hired help around here at the moment.”

  “In that case,” said Georgina, her oh-so-sweet-butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth smile playing around her lips, “since you’re our waiter, I’d love another glass of champagne. Ann?”

  She blatantly brushed her fingers down his arm, all the while staring at him defiantly with her purple eyes, then carefully placed her empty glass on the tray and reached for a full one for Ann. He gritted his teeth as she repeated the procedure, helping herself to a glass and more than a bit of his attention.

  “Is there anything else I can get you ladies?” He raised his eyebrows in question, hoping they couldn’t hear his teeth grinding.