Falling for the Guy Next Door (8 page)

“Does this
have to do with what you said last night? Of me being afraid you’d
wake up sober and want more than I was willing to give?” She hadn’t
just been venting, then. She’d actually thought that. And not just
last night, he realised. “Megan, that was never it. You deserved
more than I was able to offer. There’s a difference.”

She managed to
take offence to that as well. “How about we pretend I’m a fully
functioning adult and capable of making those decisions for
myself?”

He winced at
the stinging delivery, then again as she stomped inside and slammed
the kitchen door hard enough to rattle the eaves. She made a fair
point, though. He’d already had the same argument with himself and
lost.

She was
entitled to enjoy a fling. She didn’t need lowered inhibitions to
enjoy sex for the sheer hell of it. She wanted to burn through the
passion.

He was fully
onboard with any and all of those decisions and he intended to make
sure she knew that before she went on her lousy date. He started
forward.

The kitchen
blinds drew up and the window flew open. Megan stuck her head out,
cheeks mottled red and eyes blazing. “I’m about to make myself a
percolated coffee. Do I need to ask permission, Jack, or is that
just for wine and sex?”

Her head
disappeared and the window slammed shut.

He checked his
watch. It wasn’t yet ten in the morning. Maybe he’d give her a
couple of hours to calm down first.

At eleven
o’clock on the dot, a canary yellow Lotus pulled up. The
deep-throated purr of twin engines had actually twanged at his
groin, sending him outside onto the porch. He put his back to the
wall and folded his arms. Hot damn, driving a car like that took a
close second to sex.

Then it hit
him. Jack’s mouth hardened as he watched Megan’s date step out. The
man ran a hand through copper-gold curls that hung down to his
shoulders as he turned to lean over the low roof. Flash
bastard.

A door clicked
shut beside him. Megan tripped down the steps, wearing a strappy
sundress with a tight bodice and a floating skirt that ended
mid-thigh.

“Gabriel, hi,”
she called out, her voice full of bubble and sparkle. “I’m ready on
time for a change.”

“I never
complain about waiting on a beautiful woman, Megan.” His thick
Italian accent rolled her name into the sound of an exotic
appetiser.

“Flattery will
get you everywhere.”

Gabriel tipped
his sunglasses up and grinned, teeth a brilliant white against his
dark complexion. “I live in hope.”

Megan’s
laughter rang out, full-bodied and carefree. He hadn’t heard her
laugh that openly since…since… Jack stepped deeper into the shadows
cast by the ornamental balcony above, frowning at the happy
scene.

The sports car
growled to life, tires spinning up loose stones and dirt as it sped
off.

If he really
were as considerate as he’d told Megan, he’d let her go. He’d pack
his bag and be gone before she got back from wherever Lotus man was
taking her.

Except, she
used to laugh that way with him. And it was his body she’d wrapped
those gorgeous legs around last night. His hard-on she’d ground
into with those soft, delicious moans.

I want
you
, she’d said.
All of you. Jack, please…
Didn’t that
count as begging?

Despite her
protests, he knew Megan well enough. She might be thinking of
enjoying sex for the sheer hell of it, but she’d never slip
directly from his arms into another man’s. That wasn’t in her
nature. Besides, it was eleven in the morning. What kind of date
was that anyway?

He marched
inside and grabbed his phone from the hallway table.

She answered
on the third ring. “Jack? Is something wrong?”

So, she’d
finally stored his number. Or memorised it. Either option was
enough to put a smile on his dark mood. “You left without saying
goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” The
line went dead.

He hit the
speed-dial button.

“What now?”
she snapped.

His smile
deepened. “Just letting you know you have my permission to have
fun.”

A snarl came
down the line. She was definitely rolling her eyes.

He ended the
call before she could. Why should Lotus guy get the sparkling,
laughing Megan? Let him see what it was like to be on the wrong
side of that temper.

His smirk held
some satisfaction, but not enough. Jack made his way upstairs,
determined to finish the selection of photos for the portfolio. He
needed a goal to get him through the afternoon. When the
prestigious gallery had called, offering a collaboration to exhibit
his photography alongside the abstract metal sculptures of a
well-known artist who specialised in wildlife forms, their
excitement had rubbed off on him.

Hours later,
he had a respectable pile of possibilities. Mostly digital and a
couple of film prints. The prospect of getting his hands dirty in
developing chemicals thrilled him. While he appreciated the wonders
of technology, nothing beat the magic of watching a photograph
being born beneath his capable hands.

The only thing
he missed about not having a permanent base was not having his own
darkroom. Still, he had access to some first-class old-fashioned
developing studios—friends he’d made in the field along the way—all
he had to do was choose the continent that took his fancy. As soon
as he was ready to leave Corkscrew Bay.

He packaged up
the photos with notes on his vision for the scale, aspect and mood
on each, and set the bulky envelope aside.

It was past
six and Megan was still out with her friend. Unease stirred in his
gut. He refused to acknowledge the cause as anything other than
hunger. He grilled a rib-eye steak, tossed a salad and planted
himself in front of the telly. He flipped through the channels
until a DIY survivor show caught his interest. This particular
episode had been shot off-trail in a Congo jungle, which led to
thoughts of Megan’s barbs about his next project and his visits
never out-staying three days.

He often spent
longer than three days in a place, obviously. For work. Never for
pleasure. Never for family. At the age of seven, Frank had become
his guardian, but the farm had never been home.

Home had been
a variety of boarding schools and, as he grew older, whichever
holidays the odd school buddy invited him to tag along with.
Usually abroad to fascinating locations. Those holidays had given
him the scent for wanderlust, and more. The interludes within the
bosom of real families had centred him, balanced his isolated
independence with true friendship, borrowed love and bonds of
trust. In the small doses he could handle. As far as he was
concerned, he’d always had the best of both worlds.

He must have
dozed off, because the next thing he knew, he was drifting awake to
the growl of a mechanical panther.

The room was
dark, the only light coming from the television screen. He took a
minute to adjust his vision, then left the sofa to peek through the
front window. Hoping to see the Lotus turn up some more gravel as
it sped away. What he got was Megan leading the way up to the porch
and inside, with Lotus guy a step behind.

“
I
won’t be a second, the boxes are in my office
upstairs,” Megan said as she stepped into the hallway and set her
bag down. She glanced over her shoulder. “Unless you’ve got time
for a coffee?”

Gabriel
checked his watch. “Coffee will be great.” He closed the front door
and followed her into the kitchen on a yawn.

“I’ll make
that a double espresso, shall I?” She grabbed the espresso pot from
beside the stovetop and filled it with water. “Wouldn’t want you
falling asleep behind the wheel.”

“Ah.” He
placed a hand across his chest. “Your concern is touching.”

She giggled.
“I’m more worried about you crashing your latest toy. Now that
would be a tragic loss for humanity everywhere.”

“She is a
beauty, no?”

Megan turned
to lean against the counter and folded her arms. “You really are a
little boy, aren’t you?”

“Not so
little, Megan.” He gave a wicked grin. “Or so the ladies tell
me.”

She rolled her
eyes, but smiled. A day out with Gabriel Santini had been just what
she needed. She’d known him since before his self-promotion and
marketing books had rocketed up the charts and he’d always been
good for a laugh. She hadn’t even given Jack a—well, not more than
a handful of thoughts.

Once she’d
waded through the mist of anger, the underlying context was rather
heart-warming. Everything Jack had done, everything he’d said,
added up to him being protective. Cute.

Problem No. 1:
he was trying to protect her from herself. Not so cute.

Problem No. 2:
he was also trying to protect her from himself. That just made her
want to hurl herself onto the floor and kick and scream. Just like
the child he seemed to think she was.

Her phone rang
from down the hallway. “Excuse me.” She skipped from the kitchen to
dig inside her bag. Speak of the devil. Tender emotions swirled
with anger and frustration. She couldn’t do this now. She hit the
end-call button and pretended she’d missed the call when Gabriel
raised a questioning brow. She tossed her phone onto the counter
and pulled two mugs from the cupboard.

Gabriel yawned
again. “I’m getting too old for these road-trips.”

“You love
being the centre of attention,” she scoffed. He was doing a series
of seminars around the country to promote his current book, Every
Contact Counts. She’d gone along for the dinner and chat afterwards
to catch up with Gabriel, not the marketing advice. Although she
had to admit he was good. She’d come away on a buzz. When he’d
offered to hand out some of her publisher review copies at his next
seminar, she’d snapped up the opportunity.

She was
frothing milk for her cappuccino when a new message pinged. She
concentrated on her frothing.

“You’ve got a
message on your phone,” he observed.

She sent up a
prayer of thanks when the espresso pot whistled. “It can wait.” She
poured two inches of syrupy coffee into each mug, stirred a heaped
teaspoon of sugar into one and took a deep sniff. “This always
smells so divine.” She pushed the mug into his hands.

“And then you
go and ruin it with that…stuff,” he groaned as she filled her own
mug to the rim with frothed milk.

She stuck her
tongue out at him. Had just put her mug to her lips, when another
message pinged on her phone. She glared at the offending
object.

“Are you sure
you don’t need to get that? It could be an emergency.”

Mentally
flexing the tension from her muscles, she set her mug down
carefully. “I suppose so.”

What’s going on there?
She scrolled down to the second
message.
Stop torturing the poor man and send him
home.

“Megan, is
everything okay?”

“Perfect.” She
unclenched her jaw to smile at Gabriel.

She hit the
reply button.
Some men happen to love my brand of
torture.

Any brand of foreplay is torture if it ends up going
nowhere.

Her gaze
flashed to the wall between their kitchens. But no, if Jack had an
ear pressed to the wall, he’d know there was no foreplay going on
at all. He was guessing. Worse, he honestly believed she was too
friggin’ straight and narrow to take that foreplay to its natural
conclusion.

She could
scream, kick and bludgeon him over the head, but he’d never wrap
his mind around the fact that she could actually want—might
actually enjoy—crave, with every sexual fibre that pulsed to the
burning heat in her veins—to have him over her, deep inside
her…trailing sensual lips down the sensitive skin of her throat,
pausing to lavish attention on her nipple before sucking it to a
throbbing peak, rocking into her, pushing her higher…

She moved her
eyes to Gabriel. Released her lower lip from the gnawing grip of
longing. Had she moaned out loud?

His brow was
creased in concern. “Is the news bad?”

“No, um, no…”
She swallowed with some difficultly and shrugged. “A friend, that’s
all, in a fluster about… Oh, you know.” She flapped a hand at him.
“Nothing you’d be interested in.”

Another
message. Gabriel sipped on his coffee, his eyes on her. She smiled
harder, took a deep breath and looked down at the phone clutched
tightly in her hand.

You’re not going to do anything.

An order or an
observation? With Jack, it could be either. Only he could act like
a possessive boyfriend while pushing her away. For her own good. To
pad his precious China doll in case she broke into teeny weenie
pieces from a night of unattached sex. And yes, she wanted more
from Jack. But she also knew she couldn’t have it. She was willing
to take what she could get. For as long as she could have it. Jack
didn’t have the right to decide how little or much she was allowed
to compromise.

She tapped on
the keypad.
You sure about that?

Yes.

Well, she
hadn’t actually bludgeoned him over the head. Yet. Maybe that would
do the trick. She closed her fingers over her phone and beckoned
Gabriel to follow her out the kitchen.

“Make yourself
comfortable,” she said in a low voice, directing him to the sofa
furthest from the dividing wall.

“Why are we
whispering?” he asked in a whisper.

“My neighbour
is very, very nosy and the walls in this room are very thin.”

His voice rose
to a normal level. “Do you always have to whisper?”

“Shhh.” She
leaned in slightly. “I’m going to run upstairs to fetch the
books.”