But during the whole time he was more than conscious of Emma’s presence. She sat to one side, chatting with Granny May and Hank who had both given up smoking to join the group. Katie was sitting on the ground, Mitch and Steve nearby. Danny wandered over to join in the discussion. They all balanced paper plates on their laps filled with salad and meat from the long trestle table in the centre of the yard.
Tables had been placed around along with various chairs, and while some people sat at the tables, others chose the soft grass or simply stood around and ate. Music played softly in the background, and the warm summer evening was still, the sky star-speckled.
Only after he’d done the rounds of everyone and spent time with them all did he wander across to join his closest friends. As he neared, his mother gestured to Emma and she got up and followed her into the house.
Disappointed that she’d left, he dropped down onto the grass beside Danny.
“Hey, numb nuts,” Danny greeted him.
“Changed your mind yet?” Granny May queried.
“About what?” Shane asked.
“Being a GP here.”
Puzzled, he raised an eyebrow.
“I saw Sharon talking to you about her haemorrhoids.”
Steve choked on his Coke.
“Don’t be so sensitive, son,” Hank advised him. “We all get those bum bumps.”
Mitch snorted a laugh.
“Just wait and see,” Hank prophesied. “One day you’ll wake up with bum bumps and then you won’t find it so funny.”
“He probably has them now.” Katie batted her eyelashes at Mitch.
“My arse is as smooth as a baby’s bum, I’ll have you know.” Leaning over, Mitch gave a lock of her hair a light tug.
“Get off!” She smacked his hand away. “After being sand blasted on the beach so much? Having the salt water abrasions from falling off your surf board? Sure.”
“I don’t fall off my surfboard,” he responded indignantly.
“And if you do,” Granny May said, “you can go to the handsome new young GP and get your not-so-smooth bum checked.”
Shane gagged. “Gran, please!”
“No one’s looking at my bum,” Mitch said sternly. “Especially him.” He pointed at Shane.
Shane flipped him the bird.
“No one wants to look at your bum.” Kate forked up coleslaw. “Anyway, we’ve all seen your bum when you were a screaming kid in the sand pit. Trust me, that was enough.”
Mitch leered. “You wish.”
“Change of subject,” Steve suggested.
“Another squeamish young bloke,” Hank informed Granny May. “They just don’t make them like they used to.”
“They sure don’t,” she replied. Her gaze went to the house, her eyes lighting up. “And no one makes Pavs like Emma does.” She started frantically waving her arms. “Over here with that, honey! Bring it to Granny May!”
“And Hank!” Hank’s skinny arms waved as frantically as Granny May’s. “Over here, Em!”
“This is embarrassing,” Steve said. “I can’t believe you two.”
Granny May was now on her feet. “Yoo hoo! Emma!”
Mitch chortled.
Grinning, Katie leaned back on her arms to watch as Emma carefully came down the steps holding a plate of Pavlova, Mrs A and Harriet following bearing two more Pavs.
“Oh boy.” Danny smacked his lips. “I love Em’s Pavs.”
Daz followed them down the steps holding several plates of pastries.
“Poor old Daz.” Katie clicked her tongue. “His pastries will be there until the Pavs go first.”
Shane was busy watching Emma. “Seriously? The Pavs are that good?”
“You have no idea,” Hank replied before Katie could say a word. “I don’t know what she does that’s so special, but they are out-of-this-world.”
“You’re in for a treat, Shanie boy.” Granny May strode eagerly towards the table, Hank right on her heels.
In fact, everyone was lining up, grabbing paper plates and spoons.
“Okay.” Shane pushed to his feet. “I’ve got to test out this Pav myself, see if it lives up to its hype.”
“Oh, it does.” Mitch smacked his lips.
In a group they descended on the table where Emma, Daz and Mrs A were cutting and serving the Pavlova.
Now Shane could see the Pavs properly - high, the outside shell hard and cracking to show glimpses of the marshmallow centres, the cream thick, oozing strawberries, passionfruit and banana. His mouth salivated. It looked delicious.
The line moved forward and Steve stopped in front of Emma, only to almost get ploughed to his knees as Shane came up behind him and shoved him along using his hip.
“What the-” Steve staggered.
“Move along, mate.” Shane flapped his hand. “Harriet’s right there.”
“You could have just politely asked me, you drongo.”
“I’m telling you.”
Emma smiled at them both. “There’s plenty of dessert, boys.”
Shane smiled back at her. “Looks good, Em.”
“Don’t serve him, Emma,” Steve said. “Make him go to the back of the line.”
“We are at the back of the line.” Shane shook his head. “Need your eyes checked, Steve? Need glasses? Getting old?”
“Up yours.” Steve paused. “Begging your pardon, Mrs A.”
“You boys.” Shaking her head, Mrs A slid a slice of Pavlova onto Steve’s plate. “Nothing ever changes.”
“Little boys, little problems,” Harriet agreed. “Big boys, big problems.”
“Thanks,” said Steve. “’Cause that really helps my image.”
Almost drooling, Shane watched as Emma cut a big slice off and slid it onto his plate. “Oh boy.”
“Hey!” Steve looked from his slice to Shane’s. “What the- his piece is bigger than mine!”
Emma waggled the cake slicer at him. “Shane gets a bigger piece because he changed my tyre for me.”
“He’s the hero of the day,” Harriet agreed. “Without him, we might not have gotten Pavlova at all. He’s Emma’s hero. Right, Em?”
“My hero,” she agreed.
“Yep.” Shane puffed out his chest. “I’m Em’s hero.”
Steve looked from his Pav slice to Shane’s, then to Emma. “Next time call me. I’ll be your hero.”
“Sorry, mate.” Grabbing his shoulder, Shane shoved him away from the table, crowding behind him. “I’m the only hero Emma needs.” He threw a wink at her. “Right, Em?”
A little pink had crept into her cheeks. “If you say so.”
“Aw,” cooed Mitch. “Sweet. Shane is Emma’s hero.”
Emma laughed, but Shane didn’t miss the way she glanced at him once more before dropping her gaze back to the Pavlova. Had there been something in her eyes? A little gleam?
Or was that just wishful thinking on his part? Still…“Nope,” Shane said a little louder. “It’s the truth. I’m her hero. I’m all she needs. The rest of you can bugger off.”
“Lovely,” said Mitch. “Bloody lovely.”
Returning to his previous spot, Shane sat on the ground and spooned up a piece of Pav. The gooey, sweet mixture hit his tongue, silky cream, rich fruit, sweet marshmallowy goodness, the crack of sweet shell.
His groan was long, low and heartfelt. Bliss. Utter bliss.
Laughing, Katie dropped down beside him. “Told you. Em’s Pav is the zenith of desserts.”
“Better than Daz’s,” Mitch added.
Steve couldn’t talk, he had so much of the rich goodness in his mouth.
“You look like a possum with a gob full of leaves,” Danny informed him.
“Blrghhh,” was all Steve could manage.
“Their intelligence leaves you for dead.”
With a happy sigh, Steve just forked in more Pav.
Shane knew exactly how he felt. The Pavlova had more than lived up to the hype. It had surpassed it. He took another mouthful, flavour bursting acro
ss his tongue, the tartness of passionfruit sweeping through the rich sweetness.
Almost everyone was eating the decadent dessert now, even Daz, his expression as blissful as almost everyone else’s. Only a few people were tucking into Daz’s pastries instead. How anyone could not like Pavlov was beyond Shane. Right now, he’d list it as his number one dessert.
Especially cooked by Em.
“Might have to marry her,” he mumbled.
“Yeah.” Mitch nodded. “Me too.”
“Third,” Danny said.
“Fourth.” Steve moaned.
“I’ll even switch teams for this Pav.” Katie licked her lips, licked the spoon, attacked her piece again.
“Honey, we’d all switch teams for this Pav,” Granny May informed her.
“Can I watch?” Hank asked.
Steve choked.
Grinning, Mitch pounded his back.
Gasping for breath, Steve leaned away, flapping his hand at Mitch. “Get off!” Wheeze. “Get off!” Wheeze. “Get off!” Wheeze.
Katie didn’t pause, just chewed and surveyed Steve’s red face with interest. “He might need a doctor.”
“Dad’s over there.” Shane waved his spoon in the general direction where he’d last seen him.
“You’re a doctor.”
“I don’t officially start until Monday.”
“Geez,” said Danny. “What do you have to do to get seen by a doctor in this town?”
“Not choke, apparently,” Steve gasped. “Bloody thank you, Dr Shane Armand! You quack.”
Shane didn’t give a rat’s arse what he was called, all he knew was that the Pavlova was mind-blowing, and the only thing that could successfully divert his attention was the woman who had made it. Emma had just walked over and sat down on the grass next to Katie, balancing a plate with a small serving of Pav.
Mitch eyed it hungrily. “You sure you want that?”
“Yes, I want it.” Emma spooned up a bit.
“You sure?” He reached for the plate. “I think there’s a bit sliding off - ouch!”
They all snorted laughter as Mitch jerked his stinging hand back.
“Geez, Em.” He shook his hand. “You hit me with the spoon.”
“You’ll get another one if you try to touch my plate again,” she threatened laughingly.
“I had no idea you were so harsh.”
“Now you know.”
“I need sympathy. I need TLC. I need more Pav.” Mitch turned to Shane. “Right, Doc?”
“Doc’s my Dad.” Shane’s attention was on Emma, watching those plump lips close over the spoon, the sweet dessert disappearing into her mouth.
Would her mouth taste as sweet as her dessert?
“So what do we call you?” Katie queried.
He bet Emma’s mouth did taste as sweet.
“Quack,” Steve replied.
Slowly, Shane drew the spoon out of his mouth, tongue dipping into the rounded hollow as he watched the tip of her tongue flick out to catch a dob of cream from the corner of her mouth. Something deep inside him twitched in response.
“Quack Armand,” Danny mused. “I like it.”
Did she have any idea how such an innocent move combined with the way her eyelashes fluttered down over those big blue eyes just did it for him?
“Quack Armand does have a nice ring to it,” Mitch agreed.
“What do you think, Quack Armand?” Katie asked.
Emma’s throat worked slightly as the delicious dessert slid down.
A little fissure of heat coiled low and deep inside Shane.
“Hey, Shane.”
Slowly those thick eyelashes lifted, her eyes capturing his gaze. For several seconds she looked at him before, without warning, her pupils dilated. Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink flush. Her soft lips opened slightly.
She knew it. She knew he was watching her.
That heat started to spread inside him, a hint of predator unfurling, alien, definite, his eyes narrowing, everything fading, all attention focussed on her and-
Icy cold hit him right in the crotch.
“Shit!” He scrambled back, heels digging into the grass as he back peddled from the spilt glass of whatever his dumb-arsed friend had been drinking.
“Mate.” Daz looked down from where he stood at his side. “So sorry.”
“Geez!” Shane flapped a hand at his shorts. “I look like I pis-” He stopped when Granny May cleared her throat loudly. “Wet myself,” he finished.
“Here.” Daz dropped a paper napkin into his lap.
“Are you kidding me? That wouldn’t wipe up a hairy mozzie’s snotty nose.”
“It’s about as much as you put out,” Mitch muttered.
That caught Shane’s attention. “Huh?” He looked at the big man to find Mitch’s expression bland.
Now he became aware that the small group was silently regarding him. As soon as he looked around at his friends, they all glanced away.
Except Steve, who had a knowing gleam in his eyes.
Shit, they’d all caught him staring at Emma like some lovesick prawn.
Shit, he’d been staring at Emma, so caught up in some kind of fantasy - no, no fantasy. He hadn’t actually been fantasizing about anything, just watching those lush lips and…He glanced up to find her pushing upward with Daz’s hand at her elbow.
“I better get back and help Mrs A clean up.” Emma smiled at Daz. “Thanks.”
“No worries” he replied easily.
She hurried away, but not before flicking Shane one last, uncertain glance. There was no doubting the colour in her cheeks, the way she skirted around him as though a little afraid to touch him.
Shit. Shit a brick. Shit a ton of bricks. He hadn’t meant to make her feel uncomfortable. No way would he do that.
Unlike his friends and Granny and Hank, who were all watching him unwaveringly with varying degrees of interest, making him realise something else, something very unpleasant.
Emma had seen him staring at her like some hard-up drongo, and so had everyone else. He’d embarrassed her. Made her feel awkward. Made her leave. Made himself feel like a world-class prick. No doubt he’d looked like a world class prick.
Clearing his throat, Shane mentally squared his shoulders while meeting everyone’s gaze. “You’re right.”
Silence met this. It was like they were all holding their breaths.
Except Steve, of course. He leaned forward with a cut-throat look in his eyes.
“That Pavlova was to die for.” Rolling easily to his feet, he added, “I’d see if I could get some more, but thanks to Daz’s ham-fisted handling of his drink, I have to change my daks. Back soon.”
He beat a retreat. With dignity. Well, outwardly with dignity, striding leisurely across the lawn, but in his mind he was running like his pants were on fire rather than soaked at the crotch.
It was only when he was squeezing his arse into a pair of shorts he’d last worn when he was a late teenager - apparently he’d put on a bit of weight since then - that he paused to wonder if Daz’s accident had even been an accident. Very possibly his friend had saved them all for an embarrassing situation.
Crossing to the window, Shane peeked out. The sun was dipping low and soon the lights would be switched on. His friends were all talking avidly, no doubt having a bloody good gossip about his staring. All accept Daz, who was standing there, hands in his pockets.
As if sensing his regard, Daz looked towards Shane’s window, and then he did a very slow nod.
Dropping the curtain, Shane echoed the motion. Yep, Daz’s accident had been no accident. The man was too canny for his own good.
Standing in his boyhood bedroom, Shane pursed his lips. Now where to from here? Definitely he couldn’t ask Emma out, not when she was going to work for him. She’d be either too afraid that he’d fire her or make things difficult if she declined a date, or she might think he was using his leverage as her new boss to push some boundaries. Besides which, he had no idea wh
at she thought of him in return. Definitely didn’t want her to think he was a lech.
Ploughing a hand through his hair, Shane decided he’d do what he’d come to do. Work, be the local GP, be a gentleman.
And try to find out in a roundabout way if she was attracted to him.
Even just a little bit.
Without, of course, her knowing it.
His friends, however… Shane sighed. That could be a whole other ball game.
However, he now had a plan of sorts, so he left the room with renewed determination to start his new life here in a positive manner.
Okay, it had been positive before, but now? It looked a whole lot more interesting. Though it had been interesting before. It was just different.
Because now Emma Jones had pinged on his radar.
**
Walking into the practice Monday morning, Emma was greeted by Harriet peering out of the kitchen doorway.
“Oh. It’s you.”
Eyebrows raised, Emma stowed her bag in the cupboard. “What’ve I done wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“And yet you’re so happy to see me.”
“Oh, it’s not you.” Harriet grinned. “I’m waiting for Shane.”
At his name, Emma’s heart skipped a beat. Cripes, ever since Saturday she’d been wondering if the heat in his eyes had been her imagination. It had to be her imagination, he couldn’t have really been looking at her like that. Like she was something he wanted to-
“Hey, you in there?” Harriet lightly tapped her forehead.
Brought back to reality, Emma shut the cupboard with a bump of her hip. “Of course I am.”
“You drifted off for a minute.” Harriet scrutinized her face. “You feeling okay? You’re a little flushed.”
“It’s no wonder.” Emma bit her lip at the realization that she’d spoken aloud. “I mean, it’s getting hot outside already.”
“Huh.” Harriet placed a hand on her forehead. “You feel a little warm.”
“It’s summer, Harriet, of course I’m warm.” Emma sidestepped her to cross to the ‘fridge, grabbing a glass on the way. Opening it, she welcomed the chill rush of air as she reached inside for the jug of cold water. “Want some?”
“Nope. I’ve got coffee. Daz’s homemade cold coffee.” Harriet sighed. “That boy can make coffee like nothing I’ve ever tasted.”
Closing the ‘fridge door, Emma took a sip of water. “He does have magic hands.”
Secrets (Hope Bay) Page 7