by Jennie Adams
‘It’s OK.’ Chrissy tugged the door out of Bella’s hands and opened it wider. ‘I’ve decided I will go with him.’ This nonsense had to end. The man had all but sent her cowering to her room, for heaven’s sake. ‘I’ve got a few things to say. Might as well get them over with.’
Bella glared. ‘Fine, but I wish you’d make up your mind.’ She turned and disappeared inside.
That left Nate and Chrissy, facing each other across the now fully opened doorway.
Nate stared. And stared some more. At her hair, draped over her shoulders and falling down her back in a riot of multicoloured waves that ended at her waist.
She bristled with suppressed anticipation of a negative comment. Something along the lines of, If it was a little longer, you would look like Cousin Itt in neon.
‘Your hair.’ He almost whispered it.
‘What about it?’ She tugged at the fawn crocheted top that covered her blouse and waited. The purple, green and orange highlights Soph had so painstakingly added to her hair this morning made her feel like a misplaced rainbow. They were temporary, but that didn’t make them any less striking.
‘Dear God. You. You, ah…’ He gestured toward her hair. ‘That’s…It’s longer than I’d guessed it would be.’
Not exactly an insult, and what about the colour change?
‘I like it long.’ In truth, she had a love-hate relationship with her hair. If only it had been straight, like Soph’s and Bella’s, instead of uncontrollably curly like an electrified dish-mop. Or if it had been some shade of blonde, instead of mud-brown.
Her mother had stopped taking her to hairdressers when she was eight. Now Chrissy figured if she cut her hair short it would simply frizz more, so she kept it long. Usually she just tucked it up and tried to forget it.
But with Nate looking at her like this, she was very aware of the flow of it over her shoulders and down her back. It felt…sensual.
‘There’s no time to change it.’ She turned and snatched her coat and bag from inside. Her hair whipped out around her. ‘Besides, Sophia’s on the last legs of a hairdressing course. She wanted to practise her colours. It would have hurt her feelings if I’d braided it so nobody could see her work.’
‘I’m glad you didn’t braid it.’ The sincerity of his statement was unmistakable. The glitter of male awareness in his gaze was too blatant to be denied.
Every strand of her hair tightened against her scalp, until she felt as though simply his look had touched it, stroked it, taken that stroking feeling back to her skin and radiated it there.
Just that easily, he tipped her off the cliff again. ‘We should get on the road or we’ll be late.’ Irritated at the huskiness of her tone, she slung the piece of tangled macramé that served as today’s shoulder bag over one arm, her coat over the other and gave him what she hoped was a frosty look.
Surely a rational request to cease and desist attracting her would take care of the problem?
So, say it.
‘I’m glad you called for me this morning, Nate. The drive will be the perfect opportunity for us to…’
He didn’t appear to be listening. Instead, he stared at her mouth with a glazed expression. One of his hands reached out and stroked a long length of her wildly curling hair. He inhaled sharply and his hand tightened.
‘Park on the way…fog up the windows a bit maybe,’ she thought she heard him mutter.
A glance beyond him into the street revealed clear weather. ‘I don’t see any fog. But I’m looking forward to settling a few issues that have been on my mind since last night.’
‘Ah.’ A flush bloomed across the bridge of his nose and spanned across each cheekbone. It wasn’t an embarrassed kind of flush. Rather, it was a flush that made the very pores of her skin tighten.
How could he do that to her, just by reflecting a purely physical awareness?
‘Sorry.’ He seemed to forcibly pull his thoughts together. His face gradually shifted out of the realms of sensual awareness into something more urbane, but equally watchful. ‘My mind drifted. What was it that you said?’
‘Try listening properly. You’ll be amazed how well it works.’ She marched out the door—fortunately he got out of her way before she collided with him—and charged at the stairs.
Then she remembered she didn’t want Nate to observe the Behemoth Barge. Nope, not letting that happen again. She stopped. Waved a hand. ‘After you.’
‘Ladies first.’ The growl of his words wrapped itself over her. Layered her in warm heat. ‘I insist.’
‘Fine.’ She adjusted her glasses and scooted down the stairwell with the finesse of a mouse in full ship-escaping scurry.
Behind her, Nate moaned softly. She refused to contemplate the possible meanings of that moan. Other than that maybe he had gout in his toe and descending the stairs bothered it.
When they reached his car, she tossed her handbag onto the floor and got in. Nate climbed aboard, too.
As he turned the key in the ignition she moved directly to the first point, as far as she was concerned, of this morning’s excursion.
Aside from getting to see Henry, or course. ‘I’m here because I want to talk to you, not because you kissed me, drove me mad all yesterday evening then coerced me into going to the hospital with you today.’
‘Actually, I thought it would make it easier—’
‘No. Don’t interrupt me.’ No way would she let his charismatic charm get to her in the light of day. Not now that she had taken the time to examine all the things she had allowed to go wrong yesterday and last night.
Like losing control so he could kiss her while she just stood there and allowed it to happen.
And gave back as good as she got.
OK, fine. She may have done that, but Nate had charmed her so that she forgot what he was all about. Forgot he was an abandoner!
‘All right, Chrissy. I’ll listen.’ He didn’t sound pleased, but he agreed, and moved the car onto the street.
‘Good. First, I want your assurance that you won’t breathe a word to Henry about us trying to get his crossword entry finished in time to enter it into the contest.’
She reasoned that this was, indeed, important. Henry would worry over it too much, would want to join in and help them put it all together.
‘Your secret is safe with me,’ Nate drawled, and took the exit lane.
In moments they were cruising a less cluttered road. If it had been a movie he would have put the top down, and she would have whipped out a scarf and sunglasses and laughed gaily as the fresh air buffeted her.
But this was Victoria in the middle of winter. It was way too cold to do anything but snuggle inside and enjoy the car’s heater.
Jeez. It’s a trip to see your boss at a hospital. There is not a single romantic thing about it, either real or imagined.
Romantic, perhaps not. But the sensuality lingered, just waiting to catch her if she didn’t remain vigilant against it. That vigilance needed to be given voice. Right now. ‘You’re not to touch me again.’
Nate’s expression flattened slightly, but that was all. ‘By touch you, do I assume you mean—?’
‘No more touching, no more kissing, no more missy moo-moo eyes.’ The latter was for her own benefit, but nevertheless she thought her demands clarified things. ‘We’re colleagues. I want a professional relationship, and absolutely nothing else.’
She didn’t owe him any further explanation. Instead, she fixed him with a gimlet gaze that would have done Bella proud and demanded his agreement. ‘Do I have your word on it?’
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘I DISCOVERED that Margaret was trying to use Janice Deanne to ferret out information about the company.’ Nate growled the piece of information as he waited with Chrissy by the lifts. Any conversation, even one about Henry’s wife, was better than an aching, loaded silence.
Four days ago he had given his word to Chrissy. In his own way. He had agreed not to touch her until she made it clear she wanted
it. The statement had been arrogant and ego-inflated. A knee-jerk reaction to her rejection of him, even though he had told himself he should be rejecting her, too.
Now Nate was fed-up. Irritated on so many levels he had lost count.
The investigators hadn’t discovered anything of use at the docks. Henry had nagged until Nate was forced to have him shifted to his home with round-the-clock nursing care. At least Margaret wasn’t there. According to Henry, his wife had made a spur-of-the-moment decision to visit Tasmania.
‘I hope you weren’t hard on Janice.’ Chrissy’s words jolted him back to the present. ‘She’s a good woman and has always been loyal to the company. I can’t imagine why she would want anything to do with Margaret, actually.’
On the surface, Chrissy’s comments were calm, unlike her pithy reaction to his statement on the weekend that he wouldn’t touch her until she asked for it.
Her terse response had been followed by a death glare, and then she had retreated into a scrupulously polite mode of behaviour that had driven Nate slowly and surely around the bend. ‘I need a damned replacement.’
‘You didn’t fire Janice?’
‘No.’ He paused, his thoughts on whether Margaret could somehow be behind the accounting discrepancies that were coming to light within the company. ‘Janice had already realised Margaret was only acting nice to pump her for information, and had ended the so-called friendship.’
‘Oh.’ Her tone softened. ‘Well, I’m relieved to hear that Janice is still with us.’
Her approval pleased him out of all proportion.
‘So, is there anything else we need to take care of before we can leave?’ Her tone held no accusation, but he heard the hint of weariness. She shifted slightly and the faint scent of herbs came from her hair, mixed with her body warmth to intoxicate him.
‘No. We’re finished.’ Another five minutes in the same space as her and he just might lose control, anyway.
Knowing there wasn’t a single person in this office capable of taking over from his grandfather didn’t help. He was stuck here until he found a replacement from further afield, and selling that person to Henry would be even harder than selling Henry on someone local.
Selling himself on not wanting Chrissy was Nate’s toughest challenge yet. So far he was failing miserably.
Chrissy sighed. ‘I’m glad there’s nothing else to be done, actually, because I’m bushed.’
Thunder rumbled outside the building, reverberated inside him. He was tired, too, but also oddly energised. ‘There’s going to be one hell of a storm.’
‘I don’t like violent weather.’ She shuddered.
If he could simply kiss her again, just once, no holds barred, to the point of satiation. Then surely this deep-seated curiosity would be laid to rest.
‘It’s got to be the damned hair,’ he grated, and jabbed again at the button for the lift.
It was eleven pm. The cleaners didn’t come in until early morning. Aside from him and Chrissy, the building was deserted. He should focus on getting back to the cottage. A shower and bed. Those were things to contemplate with real pleasure.
There would be even more pleasure if you shared the shower and bed with Chrissy, a sly voice suggested inside his head—not for the first time.
As though sensing his thoughts, Chrissy cut a glance toward him. The big owl glasses slid down her pert little nose, just inviting him to take them off and press kisses all over her face. Her hair looked like a ruffled bird’s nest. As if it had known the touch of a man’s hands. That attracted him, too.
She lifted her free hand and prodded at the nut-brown mass. ‘Is there something wrong with my hair?’
Only the fact that now I’ve seen it down, I imagine it that way every time I see you. Imagine it flowing through my hands, brushing against my skin…
‘Nope, but I think it’s picked up some static from the storm.’ He would be happy to be jolted by that static any time. ‘I’d forgotten Melbourne weather had so many moods and faces.’
‘Sort of like a skilful lover,’ she said, and turned an instant fiery red from the neck up. ‘I mean, a storm can, ah, achieve just about anything in terms of displaying its power. Um, that is—’
‘Quite right.’ He snapped the words to stop her from going any further because he didn’t want to imagine her in the arms of a lover.
You’d willingly imagine it if you were that lover.
He studied the blush that covered not only face and neck, but also the small V of chest he could see above her blouse. Acknowledged the inexperience that blush revealed. Suffered an instant, urgent need to discover how far the wave of heat had spread.
‘Actually, Christianna, your comment just now was rather open to interpretation.’ He didn’t know why he goaded her. Maybe he just enjoyed torturing himself, but did she really feel nothing for him now? ‘Are you trying to renege on your demand for a solely professional relationship? Is that what your double-edged statement was about?’
‘The only thing I want to communicate to you,’ she said in a chilled tone, ‘is that the work day is finished and so, therefore, has our association for the day. The rest was a nervous blurt, if you must know.’
‘I don’t want to make you nervous.’ He meant that. But he did want to make her cry out his name while she looked into his eyes and melted away. Would the idea of that make her nervous?
This was insane. Maybe he was insane. Being back here in Melbourne was messing with his mind. Working in the home office again, among the old familiar faces, made him nostalgic.
Yes, that was it. He was suffering from a bout of nostalgia. So, you’d like to live a lovely, nostalgic life with her in Henry’s hideaway cottage for the next fifty years?
‘Hell, no,’ he said so vehemently that Chrissy jumped beside him.
‘Sorry. Just thinking out loud.’ The lift dinged open—finally—and they stepped inside.
Chrissy began to fidget as soon as the doors closed. ‘It’s not that you make me nervous. Why would you? I don’t like the way this storm feels, that’s all.’
Cut down to size by a slip of a girl in a frilly wrap-over blouse, black cardigan and bulky, ugly speckled coat.
She gave a shiver. ‘I’ll just be glad to get home.’
Home, and away from him. She had wanted that distance from the start, despite the attraction between them. She’d thought she knew him. Had decided his fate before they ever met. Why condemn him so thoroughly? Why be so swift to reject the possibility of getting to know each other while he was here?
You mean the quick affair she’s already rejected.
The collar of his shirt felt too tight all of a sudden. He ran a finger beneath it. ‘Thank you for working late today. I’m sorry I had to throw so much your way, but there were other things I needed to do.’
Such as stretching his search for a replacement so he could leave. They stepped out into the car park.
‘I am used to it, you know.’ Theirs were the only cars left in the car park. They paused at the midpoint between them, and she turned her attention fully upon him.
For one mind-blanking moment, he thought she meant she was accustomed to indulging in short-term affairs. The thought of it made him seethe with all sorts of fraught feelings—most of which fell into the possessive, totally irrational disapproving category—until he realised he had misunderstood.
‘You mean you’re used to a lot of responsibility at Montbank Shipping.’
‘Yes.’ A small frown formed between her eyes. ‘What else would I mean?’
‘How much of the workload did my grandfather push your way?’ He asked the question, but his thoughts asked other questions. Wanted other answers.
‘It wasn’t that he didn’t want to work.’ Fondness tinged her smile. ‘Henry was always working.’ She gave that gentle smile again. ‘It’s just that sometimes the work was unrelated to Montbank Shipping. When he got really engrossed, I’d have to take care of most things until he came back down to earth.
’
‘Like the crossword puzzle.’ The mention of it brought memories of the night they had shared with her sisters in their cosy apartment. Of the kiss that had preceded it, and the need to be close to her that he had experienced afterward. That need had stuck.
‘We expect to have the crossword finished by the end of the coming weekend.’ A crash of thunder reverberated overhead. She concealed her flinch almost perfectly. ‘Bella and Soph have been a great help. Once it’s done, we’ll tell Henry and it can go into the contest.’
Another crash, this one closer. The lights flickered. Nate’s protective instincts surged. He may not be able to ravish her the way he wanted to, but he could keep her safe from this. ‘The storm is worsening. Let me drive you to your apartment.’
‘I have Gertie to get me there.’ Her glance moved between their two vehicles. ‘But thanks for the offer.’
It hadn’t actually been an offer, more of an insistence. That need to keep her from harm, real or imagined, fuelled his frustration—with himself, with her. ‘Then I’ll drive you home in your car and I’ll get a taxi to the cottage.’
‘I’ll be perfectly—’
‘Fine?’ Not on his shift. Not in this weather. As though to support him, thunder crashed in a long, deafening roar over their heads and rain bucketed down in the street visible through the entry-exit area. ‘You see? You can’t possibly go out in that.’
‘Oh, yes, I can.’ Her voice quavered slightly, but her chin was up. ‘Other people manage to drive in rough weather. Why shouldn’t I?’
‘I didn’t mean that.’ Her limited experience behind the wheel didn’t worry him. Overly. Unless he dwelt on it, but…‘Nobody should have to be out in this.’
The lights in the car park went out. Aside from the occasional car inching by in the torrential rain outside, and the scant street lighting and building lights, all went dim. This time her flinch was not so well-concealed. She moved instinctively closer to him.
Just like that, his senses roared. Before he could act on that response, she jerked her shoulders back and put several paces of space between them.