She couldn’t tell if he was sincere or not, but she was a little worried by the warm glow that sprang to life in her belly at his interest.
Ah, the ever-present danger of a charismatic man.
“Robin takes the pictures and touches them up digitally, I style them. Which means I select which clothes go together, put them together in a story so that they have context and appeal.”
She was aware of two forces at war within herself as she talked—the need to show off and impress him versus the desire to play it cool.
Because she was cool. Normally. Around men. Even gorgeous male models who wore a lot less than Seth was right now. So why did he inspire this heart-beating-too-fast, everything-heightened feeling in her?
Seth polished off a slice and reached for another. “So you’re responsible for the props and the background, all of that?”
“Yep. I scout locations with Robin, and we work together on themes if the client doesn’t have a direction of their own. We don’t always work as a team, though. Sometimes clients want him and not me, and vice versa. If we land this contract with Fairbank and Rose, for example, I’ll be heading up a group of in-store stylists for customers looking for a personalized shopping experience, as well as styling their catalogue and web shoots.”
“Personalized shopping. Smart. Make them look good and feel like movie stars and prize open their purses.”
“I prefer to concentrate on the looking-good part. You’d be amazed how many years you can take off a woman by putting her in the right clothes. It drives me crazy when I see people wearing ugly things because they don’t want to look like mutton dressed as lamb or because someone once told them they had chunky legs.”
Seth assessed her. “You like it.”
“I love it.”
“I wondered if it was a make-do thing, since you didn’t make it as a fashion designer.”
She pulled a face, embarrassed at being reminded of her childish ambitions. “I sucked as a fashion designer,” she said. “Took me a while to work it out, but I finally got the message. I’ve got a great eye for color and structure and texture, and I am awesome at putting other people’s clothes and accessories together. But give me a blank page and a pencil and tell me to design something original and I will hand it back to you with a doodle of a dog in the corner.”
He smiled around the mouth of the bottle as he took a pull. It had been easier to stop herself from ogling his chest every five seconds while they worked on assembling the furniture, but it was much harder to avoid looking at him—okay, at his chest—when he was stretched out in the chair opposite, his long, muscular legs crossed at the ankle.
“What about you? Do you regret giving up the band?”
It was his turn to wince. “No.”
He didn’t say anything else and she raised her eyebrows. “That’s it? I tell you my life story, with appendixes, and I get a one-word answer in return?”
“You want more? Okay. I hated being on the road. I started to hate the other guys. And I really, really hated holding my breath, waiting for people to work out we were freaking sensational, and then watching as some wet-bottom-lip kids with perfect hair rocketed to the top of the charts.”
“Wet-bottom-lip kids? Please explain.”
“You know, those kids who always have a shiny lip.” He demonstrated, adopting a vacant expression and licking his lower lip before jutting it out.
She got the gist of what he was aiming for, but he was so attractive it was impossible for him to ever look truly gormless.
“So, basically you hate every boy band that ever drew breath?” she said.
“Hell, yeah.”
“I never got to see you play. Did you do the whole white-dude-dancing thing like Mick Jagger?”
“You will never know.” He smiled mysteriously, and she threw her pizza crust at him.
“This is why you don’t have hairs on your chest,” he said, picking the fragment off his right pec. “You’re supposed to eat your crusts.”
“Doesn’t eating your crusts give you curly hair?”
He thought about it for a beat. “You could be right. I’m a little rusty on my folklore.”
He set his bottle on the table, then stood and reached for the stud on his jeans. The action was so unexpected, she jerked back in her chair.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice squeaky with sudden panic.
“Going for a swim. Why? What did you think I was doing?” His eyes were so knowing she was hard-pressed not to throw a full pizza slice at him.
She settled for rolling her eyes and trying to look elsewhere as he pushed his cutoffs down his legs.
And failed miserably.
He had spectacular thighs. Beautifully muscular without in any way being beefy, dusted with dark hair. And she wasn’t going to even start on the impressive package that was showcased by his snug black boxer briefs.
“You coming in?” He started for the pool.
“I haven’t got anything to swim in.”
“Hey, swimsuits have always been optional in this pool, babe.”
She could hear the laughter in his voice, knew he was winding her up. He didn’t really expect her to skinny-dip. He didn’t think she’d be so foolish.
So reckless.
Something irrepressible bubbled inside her as she contemplated his dare, an echo of the wildness that had sent her sashaying toward him across the balcony at her sister’s wedding all those years ago.
She stood and reached for the hem of her tank top. Seth was waist-deep in the water at the shallow end but he went very still as she whipped her top over her head. Her gaze holding his, she undid the snap on her pants, then unzipped the fly and shimmied her hips to work the linen down her legs.
She’d been busy establishing the business since she’d landed back home, but her body still retained the muscle tone from the twice-weekly Pilates classes she’d attended religiously when she lived in the States. She knew she looked pretty damn good in her plain black Calvin Klein bra and knickers—not perfect, by any means, but she’d never been one of those women who made a sport of hating her own body. It had given her—and others—a lot of pleasure over the years, and that totally worked for her.
She took a step closer to the pool, arching her back a little to make her breasts pop. Seth’s mouth dropped open a gratifying half inch. Reaching behind herself, she found the clasp on her bra. She held the pose for a long, suggestive moment.
“In your dreams, Anderson.” She took a running jump off the side of the pool, one knee curled close to her chest in classic bombing posture.
Water flew everywhere as she hit the surface and she laughed gleefully as Seth copped a mouthful. He was still spluttering when she surfaced. She pushed her hair off her forehead and gave him a smug smile.
“I’m going to let you have that one because I owe you,” he said sternly.
“You’re a generous guy.”
“So they say.”
She didn’t bother responding, striking out for the far end of the pool. She hadn’t gotten halfway before Seth drew alongside her, arms moving powerfully. He beat her there, then paused to wait for her.
“Ian Thorpe, eat your heart out,” she said.
He shrugged, his eyes dancing with mischief. “I tried to let you win, but if I went any slower I’d have sunk like a rock.”
“Like a block of concrete, you mean.”
He pushed his hand into the water, sending a plume straight up her nose. “Now we’re even.”
“What happened to you owing me?”
“I’ll pay you back some other way.”
She swam to the tiled ledge and pulled herself out, glancing around at the attractively landscaped yard. She was no expert on Melbourne real-estate prices, but it was clear to her that this place must have cost some serious money.
“So, this bar of yours must be doing all right.”
“I get by.”
“I’ve got to admit, I’m a little surprised
. I expected a babe lair with shag carpet, a vibrating bed and mirrored ceilings. This is all very civilized.”
“You haven’t seen my bedroom. Yet.”
“Right. That’s going to happen.” She considered the house. “This is a lot of house for one man, you know.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Just wondering if it’s a sign of things to come. Seth Anderson, finally growing up. Business, house, baby. Anything could happen.”
“And probably won’t.”
His answer didn’t really surprise her, but she couldn’t stop herself from prodding some more. “Are you telling me you’ve honestly never been tempted to settle down? That there hasn’t been one woman who made you think about tomorrow?”
“Yep.”
“Really? Not even a hint of it? You’re that much of a hardened bachelor?”
“It’s got nothing to do with being a hardened anything. I’d rather be alone than trapped in a relationship that’s destined to fail.”
“How do you know if something is destined to fail if you’ve never even given it a shot?”
“Because it’s never felt right. Whatever that thing is that makes people sign up for joint bank accounts and shop for rings, it’s never happened for me. I’ve never met a woman amazing enough to make me forget all the stuff that can go wrong.” He shrugged, as though it was that simple. And maybe it was.
“Okay. I suppose that makes sense.”
“Of course it does. You’re still single. Obviously you haven’t met someone who fits, either.”
Vivian forced a smile, thinking of Franco. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”
His gaze sharpened and she realized she’d dangled an almost irresistible conversational gambit. But that was not a conversation she intended to have with him.
“Have you worked out how you’re going to manage things once the baby comes home?” she asked, heading his question off at the pass.
“Not yet. The bar is closed Mondays, and Tuesdays and Wednesdays are quiet nights, so I’ve managed to fake it this week. But I’m going to have to sort something out once Daisy comes home.”
She smiled. “Daisy. You’ve named her.”
He looked rueful. “Not officially. Not until I speak to Lola’s parents. But yeah, it’s my choice.”
“I like it. I’ve always thought daisies were happy.”
“Yeah, me, too. I figure she needs all the good omens she can get.”
She drew her legs up so that her heels were resting on the edge of the ledge and wrapped her arms around her knees. “How are you coping with all of this, Seth?”
He paused. “Yeah, I’m good.”
As convincing replies went, it left a lot to be desired. But she wasn’t prepared to push. If he didn’t want to talk, that was okay.
After a second, his expression became rueful. “Okay, honestly? I have no idea what I’m doing most of the time. I know what needs to be done, I’m going through the motions, but none of it feels completely real. Even seeing Lola yesterday, lying there with so many tubes coming out of her... I feel like I’ve been sucked into the trailer for a bad movie of the week, you know? One of those ones that has lots of tampon and chocolate commercials.”
She didn’t say anything, simply waited for him to continue.
“And I’m really not looking forward to tomorrow. Meeting Lola’s parents. Taking them to see her. That’s going to be some serious hard yards. And as much as Daisy is amazing and miraculous and so freaking cute, I am terrified about bringing her home.” He gestured with one powerful arm. “I mean, look at my life. I’m so not the guy you’d pick to be primary caregiver to a little girl. I know how to change a diaper and run a bath and read a bedtime story, but that’s pretty much it. I’ve read one parenting book. I’m about as clueless as it gets.”
She could see the uncertainty in him, the fear and doubt. “This is a big freaking deal,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t get do-overs with a kid.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So I guess that means you just do your best, and hope it works out okay.” She offered him a small smile, aware that her advice was not the silver bullet he was looking for.
“What if my best isn’t good enough?” Seth’s voice was gravelly with emotion, and she knew it had cost him a lot to ask the question.
“It will be. It’ll have to be.”
Seth mouthed a four-letter word, then surprised her by dropping beneath the surface of the water. He drifted to the bottom before using it as a springboard and propelling himself toward the far end. The world was very quiet as she watched him glide underwater.
After what seemed like far too long, he broke the surface, standing and taking a moment to slick the water from his face and hair. He looked like something out of an erotic movie, his body glossy with water, his muscles working smoothly, and she felt the distinct tug of desire between her thighs.
Vulnerability and masculinity. Had to be one of the deadliest combinations in the world.
But as long as she remained aware of that—of his appeal, and her susceptibility to it—she was solid.
Seth swam toward her, his head above the water, his biceps bulging with each stroke. He stopped in front of her, treading water, and she raised an eyebrow in silent question.
“I probably owe you more than a little face splash after that move you pulled earlier,” he said.
“The bomb, you mean?”
“And the other bit.”
The bit where she’d let him think he was getting something that was never going to be on the menu.
“What are you going to do about it?” she said.
“I’m not sure yet.”
He moved so fast he was a blur, but she still anticipated him, attempting a half-assed dive over his head. He caught her foot, causing her to fall short of her goal, jerking her toward him. They wrestled like kids under the water for a minute, then broke the surface, both gasping for breath.
“Too fast for you, Anderson,” she panted.
God, she loved teasing this man. It was like poking a stick at an almost-domesticated panther.
“Says who?”
“Says me.” She slipped her hand past his guard, grabbing a fistful of his boxer briefs at the small of his back and yanking firmly upward. His hand shot out to stop her, but it was too late, she’d given him a solid atomic wedgie.
Laughing gleefully at his disgruntled expression, she took off while she still could.
“That’s right. You run for your life,” he called.
She heard him come after her, the fierce slap of his arms as he churned the water. She was laughing so hard it was difficult to maintain her pace. She made it to the shallows and had her foot on the first step when his arm snaked around her waist, yanking her into the water. Dragging her against his body, he easily resisted her attempts to escape. She gave a gasp of protest as he fisted his hand in the waistband at the back of her panties.
“Don’t you dare,” she warned him.
“What? Do this?” He gave a small tug.
Wet fabric pulled tight between her thighs, rubbing against places that were already dangerously hot and sensitive. Excitement thrilled through her—along with a rush of blood-chilling, visceral fear.
“Don’t.” The plea came from her gut, from the part of her that comprehended exactly what was about to happen and understood how enormous a folly it would be. Suddenly this wasn’t a game anymore. Suddenly it was very, very serious.
“How are you going to stop me?” He tugged again, his eyes dancing with intent and desire and mischief.
Then, before she could gather her thoughts, he lowered his head toward her, his hand sliding down to cup her ass cheek.
Her hands instinctively latched onto his shoulders, shock stiffening her body as panic shot through her. If Seth kissed her, she’d be lost. In more ways than one.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He paused, his mouth in
ches from hers. “You want me to draw you a diagram?”
“No. I really don’t.” There was a whip-crack sharpness to her tone, and he blinked, the heated intensity of his gaze instantly cooling as he understood she was serious. A second later, his grip loosened and he took a step backward, letting her go.
“Right. My mistake. Sorry.”
She was practically panting, she had so much adrenaline buzzing through her. She couldn’t look at him, and turned her back on him as she rearranged her panties. She was painfully aware that her nipples were hard—and not because the water was cold.
Back ramrod-straight, she climbed out of the pool, making a beeline for her clothes. It was time to go. Past time.
She was pulling her tank top over her head when Seth exited the pool.
“I’ll get you a towel.”
“I’m fine,” she said, reaching for her trousers.
She wasn’t fine. She was uncomfortable, her clothes clinging to her damp skin, her wet underwear quickly soaking her top and pants. But she wanted out of there more than she wanted comfort. She wanted to be alone, in the safety of her car, with several miles between her and Seth and that moment in the pool.
He didn’t say a word when she headed inside to grab her stuff from the baby’s room. When she returned to the kitchen he was behind the counter, a towel around his waist as he folded the pizza box into the recycle bin. He eyed her steadily, but still she found she couldn’t quite look at him.
“Listen, Vivian—”
“I really need to get going,” she said. “The baby’s room looks great, though. Really great.”
She was already walking toward the front door. Seth took the hint, as he followed her and reached past her to open it for her. She scooted outside the moment she could safely do so.
“Good luck with everything tomorrow.” She practically ran down the porch steps to the driveway.
Embarrassment hit her the moment she was safely in her car and the full scale of her ignominious retreat hit her. She’d always prided herself on being able to hold her own against Seth, but she’d scuttled out of his house like one of the three little pigs running away from the big, bad wolf. Scared off because he’d tried to kiss her. She’d handled far cruder passes in her time with a million times more finesse—so why the urge to bolt tonight?
Her Kind of Trouble (Harlequin Superromance) Page 11
