“We can toss for it. Unless you’re volunteering?”
She raised her eyebrows. “One thing you learn fast in the army—never be the first to volunteer for anything.”
“I’m sensing a story there.”
She tilted her head enigmatically, neither confirming nor denying. He reached into his pocket for a coin. “Heads or tails?”
“Heads.”
He flipped the coin.
“Tails. You first,” she said.
“Be kind.”
She propped an elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand. She studied him for a moment, a small frown between her eyebrows. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, but she had naturally long lashes and her brown eyes were warm with interest and intelligence.
“Why aren’t you married or living with someone?”
It wasn’t what he was expecting and he blinked as his brain struggled to catch up.
“No formulating responses, remember?” she said.
“I haven’t met anyone I like enough to spend the rest of my life with yet.”
Her chin lifted as though he’d surprised her.
“What’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you?” he fired back.
“Being posted to Iraq.”
That surprised him and he made a mental note to follow up on it later.
“What are you most afraid of?” Charlie asked.
“Failure. What about you?”
Her gaze dropped to the table.
“No thinking,” he said.
“I have to think.”
“Not too much. Go with your gut.”
She lifted her gaze to his face. “Not being able to cut it as a civilian.”
There was something in the way she held herself that made him think she wasn’t giving him her first answer. Her real answer. He thought about pushing, then decided against it.
“What’s your biggest regret?” she asked.
Getting a virtual stranger pregnant. But he knew better than to say that out loud. “Not starting Falcon sooner.”
Something shifted behind Charlie’s eyes and he knew she’d guessed that he’d offered up his second answer, too.
“What about you? What’s your biggest regret?” he asked.
“Never knowing my mother.”
There was no doubting the sincerity behind her answer this time.
“What’s your worst personal fault?” she asked.
“Selfishness. No—laziness.”
She laughed. “How about indecision?”
He smiled. “That, too. What’s your favorite food?”
“Chocolate. In any form. If you could have any superpower, what would it be?”
“Flying. Hands down. But I wouldn’t mind X-ray vision, either.”
He was down to his last question and he thought for a moment before he spoke again.
“What makes you happy?”
She stared at him for a long beat before glancing down at the table. “I don’t think it’s possible to give one answer to a question like that.”
Her hand found the fork positioned beside her place mat, nudging it a fraction of an inch toward the middle of the table.
“You don’t have to limit it to one answer.”
She nudged the fork again. “Then I guess I’d have to say that my friends make me happy. And doing a good job for someone, making a site that’s attractive and functional. Knowing I’m good at something, I guess. That I’m earning my place in the world. Apart from that, all the usual clichéd things. A sunny day, puppies, blah, blah.”
“Those are all pretty good things,” he said, although he wasn’t sure that he’d ever hung his happiness on the knowledge that he’d earned his place in the world. But clearly Charlie had a much stronger sense of duty than he did—witness her fourteen years in the armed forces. Only someone with a desire to give back would sign away so much of her life.
“Tell me about Iraq,” he said. “Why is it the best thing that’s ever happened to you?”
“Because it was hard, but it was rewarding, too. I was in charge of the vault, which means I handled all the encrypted communications for the Australian contingent. It’s one thing to train for stuff, but it’s not until you’re in the field that you know if you’re any good or not.”
“And you’re good?”
She met his eyes. “Yeah. I am. Or maybe I should say I was. Not much call for encrypted comms in Balmain.”
“And hallelujah for that.”
She smiled. “Yeah.”
Their meals arrived and an hour slipped by as they settled into easier, more relaxed conversation. They talked about her work and his business, and she asked about his family, and before he knew it, the waitress was back, asking if they wanted dessert.
“There’s no way I could fit another thing in,” Charlie said.
“Me neither. Just a coffee, thanks.”
The waitress looked to Charlie and she shook her head to indicate she didn’t want anything to drink, either. It wasn’t until the waitress had left the table that he remembered Charlie was cutting back on caffeine.
“Sorry. I forgot you can’t drink coffee.”
“It’s okay. I’m not going to lunge across the table and tear it from your hands in a frenzy. I can take it or leave it at the best of times.”
“Lucky for me, then. Otherwise I’d be dealing with some of those black ops moves they teach you in the army.”
“Oh, yeah, you’d be in big trouble.”
A strand of her hair had come loose from her ponytail, framing her face and softening her features. A memory flashed into his mind: Charlie lying beneath him on his bed, naked and flushed, her hair a sexy tangle around her face.
He shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. “I told my parents about everything last night. They want to meet you.”
Charlie’s gaze flew to his. “Oh. That was fast.”
“My mother has a nose for secrets. She cornered me.”
She smiled faintly, but she looked worried.
“It’s my twin sisters’ birthday next week and they asked me to bring you along,” he said.
“Does that mean everyone will be there? All your brothers and sisters?”
“And the kitchen sink.”
She nodded, but she had her poker face on now and he had no idea whether she was pleased, intimidated, terrified or delighted at the prospect of meeting all his family in one fell swoop.
“What do you think?”
“You said you told your parents everything last night. Did you tell them how we met?”
He was smart enough to know he was on potentially dangerous ground.
“I didn’t go into detail, but I figured I might as well be honest. I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t exactly keen on making up some story to tell everyone for the rest of our lives.”
Charlie’s lips formed a straight line. “So instead we tell them how we met in a bar and had one night together before going our separate ways?”
“They won’t judge you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said.
“You mean judge both of us.”
“Believe it or not, that is what I meant,” he said. “My brother already thinks I’m an idiot for messing up with the condom.”
Charlie closed her eyes for a pained second. “You discussed condoms with your family?”
She looked so appalled he had to suppress a smile. “I forgot. You don’t have brothers and sisters.”
“No.”
“When you meet them, you’ll understand. As a group, they’re the human equivalent of a steamroller.”
“Wow. You’re re
ally making this seem like an appealing prospect.”
“I can tell Mum you’re busy, if you like. We can arrange something later. When things are more settled.”
Charlie shook her head, straightening in her seat. “No. Let’s get it over and done with.”
She sounded like a Christian anticipating a run-in with a Colosseum full of lions.
“If it gets really bad, I’ll light a fire and you can make a run for it.”
“I may take you up on that.”
“I’ll make sure to bring a box of matches.”
His coffee arrived, along with the bill. He was reaching for the sugar when he noticed Charlie pulling out her wallet.
“It’s on me,” he said easily, waving her wallet away.
“I can’t let you do that.”
He watched as she pulled out a twenty and a ten and put them with the bill. He’d never gone Dutch on a date in his life and he was about to hand her money back when it occurred to him that this wasn’t a date. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it definitely wasn’t a date.
A partnership, maybe. Hopefully the beginnings of a friendship. God knew, they were going to need some kind of connection to sort this mess out.
He swallowed his objection and plucked a few notes from his own wallet to add to hers.
He finished his coffee and they left the restaurant. The night air was cooler than it had been last night. Charlie crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a self-conscious smile.
“This was a good idea. Thanks.”
“We should do it again.”
“We should.”
“Where are you parked?”
She pointed across the harbor. “Beneath the casino.”
“I’m the other way.” He pointed over his shoulder.
“Then I’ll see you next week.”
“I’ll email you with the details for the party.”
“Great.” She lifted her hand in farewell and started to swivel on her heel. Then she seemed to catch herself. She turned toward him, took a step forward and surprised him by pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“I heard there’s a really good Mexican restaurant in Surry Hills. Maybe we could try that next time,” she said.
Then she was gone, her slim figure weaving efficiently through the crowded walkway.
He stood with his hands in his pockets and watched until she disappeared from view. For a moment, he wondered how things might have turned out if she hadn’t left that morning two months ago. If she’d stayed and he’d taken her out for breakfast the way he’d planned to. If breakfast had led to a second date, and a third…
He shook his head, irritated by his own musings. The only thing that mattered was what had happened. She’d left, he’d gotten over it, and now they were going to be parents together.
More than enough to get his head around without him fooling around with what-ifs.
Hands still in his pockets, he headed for his car.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“SO, HOW DID IT GO?” Gina asked as she settled on Charlie’s sofa the next day.
Her friend had dropped in for lunch, obviously keen to get the lowdown on Charlie’s dinner with Rhys. Since she’d brought delicious-looking sandwiches with her, Charlie was prepared to do a little horse trading—to a point.
“It was okay. A bit awkward at first, but not a complete disaster.”
Gina pulled a face, clearly unimpressed with the report. “You have to give me more than that. What was he wearing, where did you go, does he still make your heart go pitter-patter?”
Charlie gave her friend a look. “Why would he make my heart go pitter-patter?”
“Because he’s gorgeous and because you had a wild night with him and just because things are complicated doesn’t mean you’re blind and he’s stopped being hot.”
“Hello? Did you miss the bit where I got accidentally pregnant, and ambushed him to tell him he was going to be a daddy, whether he liked it or not?”
“I said it was complicated. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”
“Except this isn’t a romantic comedy with Jennifer Aniston and some hot actor. This is a bad situation we are trying to make the best of. Him being hot or not is completely irrelevant.”
“You don’t think being attracted to the father of your baby would be making the best of a bad situation?”
Charlie’s belly tensed thinking about it. “I think it’s the worst thing that could possibly happen. Without question.” She sliced a hand through the air to emphasize her point.
“Why? Is he seeing someone?”
“I have no idea. He could be seeing ten different someones for all I know.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“Why would I? He didn’t ask me, either, by the way. Which should tell you something.”
Gina cocked her head. “What should it tell me?”
“That our relationship is about one thing and one thing only—the baby.”
“Do you like him?”
Charlie gave an exasperated sigh. She loved Gina’s eternal optimism and rose-colored outlook most of the time, but sometimes her friend’s refusal to accept reality could be a little frustrating.
“I don’t mean sexually,” Gina amended. “I already know you like him that way or you wouldn’t have gone home with him. Do you like him as a person? Now that you know him a little better?”
Charlie took a moment to consider her answer. Gina filled the time by unwrapping the two enormous chicken-salad sandwiches she’d brought with her.
“I think he’s a decent guy,” Charlie finally said. “I think he’s sincere about trying to make this work.”
“But do you like him?”
Charlie reached for her sandwich. “I think it would be impossible not to. He’s charming and funny and he has more charisma than you can poke a stick at.”
He was aware of it, too. Not in an egotistical way, but he knew that he had the power to sway people if he put his mind to it. The knowledge was evident in the way he looked at her and the rest of the world, the way he walked, the way he spoke. Throughout their dinner last night she’d been aware of him working to put her at ease. The stories he told her, the light tone to his voice, his smiles… It had been subtle, but he’d been doing his best to charm her—and succeeding.
As she’d said, it was almost impossible not to like him. Certainly beyond her puny powers.
The important thing, as she’d reminded herself last night and as she would continue to remind herself, was that she not confuse all that charm and attention with anything more personal. Because that way lay disaster.
“Tell me about this big wedding you’ve been invited to,” she asked her friend, sick to death of thinking about, talking about and worrying about her own problems.
For the rest of their shared lunch break they talked about Gina’s cousin’s wedding and Charlie’s clients, Gina thankfully taking Charlie’s unspoken cue to steer clear of more Rhys discussion.
After her friend had left, Charlie cleaned up and returned to her desk. The red flag was up on her in-box, signaling that she had email. She clicked on the icon absently while running her eyes over the pictures she’d been resizing before Gina arrived.
Her gaze sharpened when she saw the email was from Rhys. She opened the message.
Hey. You probably know already, but I saw this in the paper today and thought of you. If you go, let me know so I can tag along and learn something from an expert.
He’d included a link and she clicked through to an article in the online version of the Sydney Morning Herald touting an upcoming exhibition of rare and vintage comic books at the Museum of Contemporary Art.
A slow smile spread across h
er face. Last night she’d mentioned she’d had an extensive comic-book collection as a child, an off-the-cuff comment. One of many little facts they’d traded over dinner. But Rhys had obviously registered it and remembered, and when he’d seen this article he’d thought of her.
Oh, he’s good. No wonder his business is doing so well.
The cynical little voice wasn’t enough to diminish her pleasure in his attentiveness and she pulled the keyboard close and started typing.
I hadn’t seen this, but it looks great. I’d love to go if you’re up for it, but you have to promise to send up a flare if I bore you to tears rabbiting on and on in nerdy detail.
She hesitated a moment before hitting Send, reading over what she’d written. She didn’t want to sound too eager. Too pleased by the fact that he’d thought of her. She edited the email, deleting the word love. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she tried to come up with a suitable alternative to replace it. After a minute she shook her head and put love back and hit Send in a rush of exasperation.
It was one thing to be sensible where Rhys was concerned and another thing entirely to turn into a paranoid psycho who turned herself inside out overanalyzing every interaction with the man. She’d drive herself nuts if she kept double-thinking everything.
Her computer chimed quietly to signal the arrival of another email and the red flag went up on her in-box. She opened the message.
Done. Let’s make a date closer to the exhibition opening. Don’t worry about boring me—inside every man is a boy who once tried to jump off the top of the garage with a towel for a cape. (Yes, I broke my arm, but not badly.)
BTW, my sisters’ birthday party is next Friday. We should probably aim to get there by 7, so I would need to pick you up by 6:30 at the latest. Cool?
The smile faded from her lips as she read about his sisters’ party and him picking her up. She’d managed to forget his parents’ invitation until that moment. Or, more accurately, she’d chosen to.
Even though she hated going anywhere without the security blanket of her car, it made sense to go with Rhys, so she fired back a quick response confirming his plan. The moment the email had left her in-box her stomach turned over with nerves.
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