‘It sounds fun.’ Though she wasn’t quite sure if it had been for him.
Morgan smiled. ‘Sometimes it was.’ He juggled some more ingredients then shrugged. ‘Until they divorced. I doubt they even noticed they weren’t married any more because they so rarely saw each other.’ He glanced away from the pan and through to the sitting room as if talking to someone else. ‘I promised I wouldn’t have that sort of marriage.’
‘They got together at least once and produced something special,’ Billie said softly. ‘And it smells like you’re still a good cook.’
He grinned at her. ‘And we’ll leave that topic there. Tonight I’m making porcini mushrooms, chicken and pasta in cream. Okay?’
She moistened her dry mouth, trying to pretend nonchalance. ‘That sounds delicious.’ Maybe she needed a wine after all.
‘If you change your mind about wine, I’ve got a very nice Italian-style Prosecco, which has a low alcohol content.’
‘Just one, then.’ Or else she’d be unable to go home. For several reasons.
‘Of course. But you’ll have to stay more than an hour.’ He smiled, went to the fridge and poured a glass from an already opened bottle.
‘I could probably manage that.’ She took the proffered glass and watched him sear, dice, and scatter herbs and spices, his big hands deft and elegant in their joyful dance over the food.
She finished her squash first because her mouth was going dry watching him. ‘You really do love to cook.’
His hands stilled and he looked up at her. Smiled again. ‘I do.’ Big shoulders shrugged under the loose open-necked shirt he’d changed into. She wished she’d been able to change. Her own collar felt a little tight and she was warming up way too much. ‘Even more so if I’m cooking for someone else.’
Which was exactly the right lead-in for her to ask him about his relationship history. She couldn’t help but be curious. ‘So why don’t you have a someone else here all the time?’
He paused. ‘I’m between guests.’
She almost choked on her first sip of wine. ‘Lucky me.’
He nodded. ‘Extremely.’
She laughed. ‘I’m happy to eat but I’m not looking for a relationship.’
‘No problem. I’m not either.’ And suddenly there it was—out on the kitchen bench between the mushrooms and the cream pot—the fact that neither of them was looking for a relationship but that the attraction was mutual.
He fancied her. No strings. And she fancied him. No strings.
He said, ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said on Monday. Your “I like men but I don’t want to live with a man” comment.’
She couldn’t believe she’d actually voiced that.
He went on. ‘I wondered if occasionally we could spend some after-work hours together? Platonic if you like – to begin with.’ The air seemed to shimmer as the temperature in the room went up another ten degrees.
His gaze locked onto hers. Billie had the weird feeling the clock on the wall had braked, pausing the passage of time for a moment. He rinsed his hands under the tap on the island bench, then proceeded to wipe them dry with a towel, keeping their intimate connection throughout.
Then, still pinning her from a distance, he came around the bench and took both her hands, stood her up until she was in front of him, and she had to look away then, by focusing on her hands. She could feel him waiting for her to lift her face.
Eventually she did.
Up close, his eyes were brown, not black. The faint edgy scent of male and herbs and the light beer he’d poured himself melded into an aromatic aphrodisiac and she didn’t know how to deal with it all.
‘What do you think?’
What did she think? It was impossible to make her brain function. Her mouth felt like the desert. Her wrist pulsated where it was held between his fingers and she was a touch mesmerised as she looked at his strong jaw. ‘Out of work hours. It’s an idea. It might work,’ she finally managed.
Then his head came down and his full, chiselled lips grazed one side of her mouth before they moved to the other and she sucked in a breath.
Now another subtle whiff of his expensive men’s aftershave clouded her already foggy brain, but his lips were on hers and the room disappeared into strong arms, a rock-hard chest and a mouth that teased and tasted and tempted her to lose the little control she was hanging onto by the barest thread. She nearly lost it.
Only she didn’t. She pulled back and he let her. Smiled and said, ‘I knew you’d taste good.’
‘Lemon squash.’
‘Billie squash.’
She wished he’d squash her again but the whole thing was very close to getting out of hand. ‘Hmm. A tad explosive at first brush.’
She widened the distance between them. ‘I’m suddenly not sure this is a smart thing to do when we work together.’
‘Me either.’ He helped her sit down again as if nothing had happened. Maybe not for him, but for her the world had tilted into a whole new confusing place. He returned to his cooking.
His voice calm he said, ‘I meant it when I said I didn’t want a relationship. But I’m up for some mutually beneficial company with no strings.’
His voice was even, reassuring. Like the one he used when people phoned in with an emergency. Billie felt like she was having an emergency.
‘I have a teenage daughter. I can’t be seen slipping off to my boss’s for a bit of bump in the night.’
‘I can see that could be a problem.’ He sighed and then wriggled his brows suggestively. ‘How about a one-night stand?’
She smiled and shook her head. ‘Too much on the downside. I’d have to work with you,’ she added with a little flurry of bravery, ‘imagining you naked.’ She shrugged. ‘Too hard.’
He smiled and she was relieved to see there were no hard feelings. Not that kind of hard feeling anyway.
‘You have a point there,’ he said. ‘Which I knew myself.’ Then he glanced wickedly at her chest and to her embarrassment she actually had two points sticking through the fabric of her shirt. He didn’t comment on that. ‘It was worth asking, though.’
She laughed. This conversation was funny and crazy and out of her comfort zone. ‘Very forward. Will dinner be long?’
‘Fifteen minutes. And you have fifty minutes before you’re allowed to drive.’ He gestured to the cutlery piled at the side of the bench. ‘Perhaps you’d like to set the table. Or put on some music?’
The idea of getting out of the heat of the kitchen sounded excellent. ‘I’d like that.’ She gathered up the knives and forks in one hand and her half full glass in the other and threw him a wary smile before she scuttled away. She’d like to think she sauntered out but scuttle was probably more accurate.
Billie put the cutlery and glass down on the table in the corner of the open-plan lounge room and fanned her face with her fingers. Hooley dooley, that man could kiss. It had been a short one. Thankfully. Their first. She wasn’t very experienced in kissing. She’d been out with a couple of men over the last fifteen years, but she’d never found the concept of casual sex interesting enough to progress to the next level. Until now?
The only man she had slept with had left her with scars she didn’t want to resurrect. But what if she did want to sleep with someone? What if she wanted to sleep with Morgan? Or stay awake with him?
What if she never found someone she wanted to sleep with as much as she might want to sleep with Morgan? Hooley dooley, all right. She shook her head, trying to perish the thought. But common sense was the thing that was wilting, not the vision of being masterfully captured in those strong arms.
Damn Morgan Blake. But in fairness it wasn’t his fault some guy had tricked her into a toxic relationship a long time ago and had left her with hang-ups.
Then her gaze was caught by a small black spider crouched in the corner of the room like an omen. She shivered. On his bad days Mia’s father had been like that. Crouched. Waiting. He’d stalked her when she’d t
ried to get away.
She was still staring at the small black house spider when Morgan came back into the room and vaguely she heard him put down the dishes. Then she felt him come over to her, and stand close to investigate what she was looking at. Decisively, he picked up a newspaper and thwacked the intruder, making her jump in surprise. Then he casually pulled a tissue from a box and squashed the dead body into it. Crushed it in his hand.
‘Arachnophobia?’
‘Something like that.’
‘I usually just put them outside. But I don’t like the black ones that look like crabs.’
She shivered. ‘Me either.’
He dropped a kiss on her forehead. ‘Sit.’ He gestured with the hand that held the tissue. ‘I’ll be back in a sec.’
Billie blinked. She was being stupid. But she had the horrible feeling that the night was ruined.
They never quite got the rapport going well after that, though the dinner was amazing, and as soon as the hour was up after her half glass of wine, Billie went home.
On Monday, when Billie went into work, it wasn’t as awkward as she’d thought it would be.
‘Thanks for dinner on Friday,’ she said to Morgan.
His eyes were kind. ‘No problem. I enjoyed it.’
Her cheeks heated. ‘Thanks for lying.’
He shook his head. ‘I’d like to try again another night.’
She wasn’t sure she could survive another attempt. ‘I know what you’d like to try.’
He gave her a long, slow smile that made the tips of her ears warm. ‘Only if it suits you, too.’
‘Maybe if the stars align again.’ She met his eyes determinedly. She was a grown-up, and she was tempted. ‘I have commitments.’
‘I see that,’ he said.
‘And my boss works me very hard,’ she added, tongue in cheek.
‘As he should.’ Apparently, she’d crossed the line because he changed into that very person.
‘I have meetings for most of the day so you’re in charge. Michael and Hector will be back soon so they’re your main team. You right with that?’
‘Of course.’
He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. ‘Text me if you have problems and I’ll get back to you.’
‘I don’t have problems. I have moments of unusual interest.’
‘Good to hear. But if you need help—text me!’
By the end of the day, Billie was feeling good about her ability to manage the control room in Morgan’s absence. She hadn’t needed to text him. He’d seemed impressed when he’d returned and she felt as if she was beginning to grasp most of the intricacies of the job. She loved all of it as much as she’d thought she would.
Driving back towards Blue Hills Station, she found herself thinking about Morgan as she sang a Mary Coughlan song. Something about wanting to be seduced. She compressed her lips to contain the grin that was threatening to break out. And she knew exactly who she wanted to be seduced by. Lucky she wouldn’t have the chance to act on that because the whole sleeping-with-the-boss thing was a very dumb idea. She should be thinking about her daughter who’d been away.
She turned into the driveway and as she rattled up the drive she was looking forward to seeing Mia and hearing about how she’d gone with Soretta on their weekend stay in the gooseneck of the horse float.
Billie still couldn’t believe how easily Mia had attached herself to the other girl’s brusque and barely tolerant friendship. Not that Soretta was mean, just so busy and bossy with her workload that Mia had to learn on the trot, or be corrected without kid gloves.
When she entered the house the aroma of a delicious slow roast prickled her nose. God bless Lorna, who must have put it on because Daphne was away. Living with Daphne, Soretta, and Lorna, was like a utopian fantasy. Her daughter stood up and crossed to hug her to welcome her home and her world was complete.
The next day Mia floated happily across the road, enjoying the fact that Trent had fallen back through the crowd to talk to her even though he’d been chatting with his friend at the time.
It was nine a.m. and another group of high-school children flowed off a bus and followed them across a pedestrian crossing in front of a waiting line of cars. They were laughing and carrying towels to the local swimming pool, and judging by the four main colours, anyone could’ve guessed that it was a school swimming carnival.
Mia glanced at the nearest car, one of those American muscle cars you saw in the movies, that was waiting for them to pass. Her eyes met those of a dark-haired older man, good-looking in a flashy sort of way, who stared at her with a startled expression on his face. She moved instinctively closer to Trent as she looked away, but her neck prickled.
That afternoon she noticed the same car driving out of Blue Hills Gate just before the school bus pulled up to let her off. Dust still swirled from the homestead driveway. The car accelerated away before she got out, but that didn’t stop her staring after it with a frown on her face.
It was the following Friday and Morgan had returned from being called away again to Broken Hill.
‘Thanks for that, Billie. Great job.’ Morgan took back the pager from her and Billie ignored the ridiculous thrill such minor praise gave her. It was beginning to feel like hormone flushes when he approved her work!
‘No problem.’ She avoided catching his eye and moved towards the door. ‘I’ll head home then. Lorna’s had Mia under her feet all day. Too many pupil-free days around here.’
‘Got a minute?’
She stopped and turned around to face him again. ‘Of course. Did you want me for something?’ She saw him smile at that and she felt her face heat. What was with that? She was far too old for this sort of embarrassment, but the way she’d run away last time came back to haunt her. He probably thought she’d acted like a child.
‘Yeah, well, I’m at work so I won’t answer that one.’
She blushed but didn’t say anything.
‘A date. Tomorrow night. Nothing to do with work. Six o’clock, dinner, and I’ll pick you up from Blue Hills.’
A date? With the man who doesn’t do relationships? ‘Dinner? Is anything open after six p.m.?’
He tilted his chin as if offended. ‘I know a place.’
Yeah right. ‘It wouldn’t be your place?’
He wagged his finger. ‘I said a proper date.’
So she nodded. ‘A no-strings, proper date.’ She pretended to consider. ‘I’ll have to see if Mia has anything planned.’ It was a weak excuse, but she couldn’t get her head around the idea of a real date, let alone a planned date with her boss. ‘I’ll let you know.’
He inclined his head and was the boss once again. ‘By lunch tomorrow, then.’
‘I’ll text you.’
‘Only if you’re coming. Talk to me if you’re not.’
Darn.
‘Sure.’
TWELVE
Six o’clock Saturday arrived before Billie was ready. She’d been helping Daphne and Lorna spring-clean the kitchen and main lounge room in preparation for Soretta’s grandad coming home the next day.
Mia, in unusually good spirits, had popped in from the sheep yards when she’d first arrived home, said a night out for her mother was a great idea, picked up some more lemonade Daphne had made and left again soon after. She and Soretta still weren’t back.
Billie suspected her daughter enjoyed driving to and fro on the quad bike and stifled her misgivings. She consoled herself that Mia was too scared of Soretta’s wrath to risk an accident on the farm equipment. Hopefully, Mia kept that fear at the front of her mind as she puttered around.
And Mia’s last maths exam results had been her best yet. It seemed Lorna had been swotting with her. This place just kept getting better and better.
She heard the dogs bark as a vehicle slowed on the road at the bottom of the hill, then they barked louder as a car turned into the driveway. Her hand wobbled at the wrong moment with the mascara. Damn it. She dabbed at the black streak, too
k several deep breaths and reapplied it, until finally she heard the car pull up outside.
Her stomach seemed to twist into a knot and she gritted her teeth. Why was she going out with this man when she was so scared of intimacy? One look at Morgan and any woman knew he wasn’t the sort to want a platonic relationship—in as much as he didn’t want a relationship at all—and he wouldn’t want to talk about the weather all night. What was happening with the weather? Maybe she should quickly check the forecast for the week. She was going mad!
Still, she couldn’t deny she wanted to go out with him. To be treated like a woman, not a mother, for at least one night was incredibly attractive. Maybe she’d be fine. It was a restaurant for goodness sake. She’d been to plenty of those with a few men in the past. And afterwards? Nothing would happen afterwards. He’d bring her home.
Or not.
If it all went well and she wanted to go home with him then maybe she wouldn’t freeze and humiliate them both, or worse, have a panic attack.
An hour later in a very ambient restaurant with a candle on their table, Morgan smiled lazily. ‘You seem a bit tense.’
‘Do I?’ A dumb comment. Of course she did. She’d dropped the fork she was playing with twice while waiting for the entree.
Billie was over herself and the stress of it all. She should just ask him to take her to his flat, make love to her so she could get it over with, and then she could enjoy her dinner. Her lips twitched at the idea so she kept her head down, but the tension eased from her shoulders a bit. Maybe that’s exactly what she needed to jumpstart a normal adult life.
‘You do that a lot,’ he said.
She glanced at the fork. ‘What?’
‘Smile secretly at something. It drives me wild when I don’t know what it is.’ He added softly, ‘In a good way.’
The warmth in her belly expanded. She lifted her eyes to his and blurted out, ‘I was thinking I should sleep with you first to get over my nerves and then I might be able to enjoy my dinner.’
The Homestead Girls Page 14
