Amy Andrews – Australia: Bundles of Joy: Impossibly Pregnant / Top-Notch Surgeon, Pregnant Nurse / Caring For His Babies (страница 8)

‘I’ve tried them all. Hot milk, camomile tea, valerian, counting sheep, listening to ocean sounds and heartbeat lullabies. Nothing works.’ She refrained from adding that the only time she did manage to get a decent night’s sleep was when she’d been involved in a relationship and had the comforting warmth of a male body next to her.

‘I might have just the thing for you.’

Oh, I certainly hope so, a naughty voice inside her head whispered, and she deliberately ignored it. ‘What’s that?’

He leaned closer and lowered his voice, a secretive smile playing about his lips. ‘I’m not sure if you’d be up for it.’

The effect of his smile was instant, her pulse picking up tempo and keeping rhythm with her pounding heart. ‘Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?’

His smile broadened to a grin. ‘It involves you lying down, me being next to you and opening your mind to a host of possibilities.’

Oh, boy. She gulped, desperately wishing for something fabulously witty to say. Instead, her mind was a complete blank, apart from the erotic images that filtered across it like a classic movie on constant re-run.

‘I’m talking about hypnotherapy,’ he said, his soft chuckle making her want to hit him.

‘I knew that.’

‘Really?’ He captured her hand in his before she knew what was happening. ‘It looks to me like you had something more … interesting in mind.’

She struggled to concentrate on the simple task of speaking while his thumb gently brushed the back of her hand and created havoc in the process.

‘I’m not that easy to read.’

‘Oh, no?’

The warmth of his hand, combined with the excited glint in his eyes, ignited a fire deep in her belly that spread like quicksilver through her body.

In one short day this man had elicited responses within her that she’d never experienced and never dreamed of having. A confirmed realist, she knew that the whole ‘settle down with a nice steady boy, get married, have kids and live in the burbs’ fantasy wasn’t for her. How could it be, when she couldn’t provide one of the vital ingredients in that happily-ever-after scenario?

Right now, she had a career to build, a promotion to gain and a whirlwind social life. Did she have room in her life for a man, a relationship and the possible implications?

He might enjoy a light-hearted affair, but what if he hoped for permanence? She’d have to walk away at the end, resulting in devastation yet again. Despite what they initially said, most men wanted children—part of their quest to prove something to the world—and she couldn’t provide that.

She’d learned the hard way—Jon, the only man she’d fallen for enough to contemplate a future with, had run a million miles when she’d had the courage to tell him the truth. She’d been expecting an engagement ring; she’d ended up with more pain than it was worth.

If there was one thing she’d learned—through her overweight, low self-esteem teenage years, the gruelling hours of counselling, the dramatic weight loss and subsequent collapse—it was to protect her heart. Having it bruised, trampled and shattered did nothing for her ego, not to mention her health.

No, this time she’d be more careful.

If Lachlan Brant wanted to flirt with her, fine.

If he wanted to charm her, hold her hand and prescribe the occasional kiss, fine.

If he wanted anything else … Lord help her!

CHAPTER FOUR

‘A man will halt your climb up the corporate ladder quicker than his exit at the first hint of the L word.’

Raquel Wilson, all-round cynic and closet man-hater.

‘WHAT’S Keely’s Collection doing out of mothballs?’ Emma picked up the scrapbook from Keely’s desk and started flipping through it.

‘Lucy asked me to bring it in. We’re working on a quiz format for Flirt, and she asked if I kept any of that stuff.’ Keely didn’t look up from her PC screen, eager to put the finishing touches to the athletic company’s web page before shifting her attention to her latest, and most distracting, client.

‘This is amazing. I can’t believe you call this a scrapbook. It should be a girl’s handbook on surviving the dating scene.’ Emma continued to flick pages. ‘You’ve collected quotes and quizzes like most people collect stamps or postcards.’

Keely didn’t look up, her concentration not wavering. Pity she couldn’t do the same when it came to the Brant account. ‘It’s a hobby.’

Suddenly Emma let out a squeal. ‘Oh, my God, you’ve even got stuff I’ve said about guys written in here.’

‘Nobody’s safe,’ Keely muttered. ‘Now, shut up and let me finish this.’

Emma peered over Keely’s shoulder. ‘Why are you hell-bent on finishing this today anyway? I thought it wasn’t due till next week? I’m nowhere near completion with the animation yet.’

‘Too much work,’ Keely said, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she typed the last subtitles on to the site.

‘Looks good,’ Emma said. ‘Though you being in such a hurry to finish this wouldn’t have anything to do with a spunky new client, would it?’

‘Don’t be silly. I give all my clients equal billing.’

‘Is that why you went to the Swing Room with Lachlan Brant last night? Intending to add some musical accompaniment to his website, huh?’

To her annoyance, Keely felt heat creep into her cheeks. ‘How did you know?’

‘A certain young woman whose lips are as loose as her morals told me.’

‘Chrystal was there?’

Oh, great. Now the whole office would know about her and Lachlan and would want to know details.

‘The hottest new spot in town, according to our resident man-eater.’ Emma perched on the edge of her desk. ‘So, how was it?’

‘It was just part of this whole stupid assignment business,’ Keely said, trying not to remember the way Lachlan had stared at her during the latter part of the evening, the look in his eyes spelling danger for her peace of mind.

‘Sure thing. In that case, you won’t be interested in this.’ Emma waved a piece of paper under her nose.

‘What’s that?’ Keely tried to snatch it out of her hand and Emma raised it higher.

‘Mmm … let me see. It’s titled “My Perfect Man” and it fell out of your scrapbook.’

‘Give me that!’

‘Uh-uh, not so fast.’ Emma leaped off the desk, held the paper at arm’s length and started reading. ‘Looks like a checklist. I wonder how many criteria the wonderful Mr Brant fits.’

Keely groaned and shook her head. ‘I wrote that when I was nineteen. Can’t you leave a girl in peace?’

Emma ignored her and continued. ‘According to this, your perfect man would be over six feet tall, have dark hair, blue eyes, a nice smile, a sense of humour, a professional job, a great body, be adventurous, love jazz, appreciate food—read doughnuts—and be a skilled kisser.’ She paused for a second, exhaled and rolled her eyes. ‘Phew! Not asking for much, are you?’

‘It’s just a dumb list,’ Keely said, remembering the exact day she’d written it.

She’d finally got her life back on track after losing all that weight and collapsing, and the first guy she’d dated, Ray the Rat, had ditched her after three months for a seventeen-year-old. The list had encapsulated every quality that Ray didn’t have at the time and, hence, everything she wanted in a man.

Emma smiled. ‘That’s where you’re wrong. I think this list details quite specifically your perfect man and, if I’m not mistaken, it seems you’ve already found him.’

Heat flooded Keely’s cheeks. Strangely enough, she’d been thinking along similar lines as Emma read the list out. It seemed as if Lachlan met every one of her criteria, though she didn’t know about the adventurous stuff yet, and she couldn’t imagine him pigging out on doughnuts, not with his buffed body. As for his skill in the kissing department, she’d prefer not to go there—not with their near miss still fresh in her mind.

‘I don’t have time for this,’ Keely said, knowing that the more Emma interrogated her about Lachlan, the more she’d want to dissect every look, word and touch from last night. And she didn’t want to do that. He was business, attraction or not.

‘Pity.’ Emma shrugged, slid the checklist back into the scrapbook and placed it on Keely’s desk. ‘To be that clear on what you want in a guy and then turn your back on him when he walks into your life. Seems a shame to me.’

‘Don’t you have work to do?’ Keely picked up the scrapbook and shoved it into her top drawer, hoping that the old adage ‘out of sight, out of mind’ might work in this case.

‘Sure. See you after work at Pilates class?’

Keely nodded and waited till her friend had left the room before staring at the closed top drawer as if it contained a poisonous snake.

‘Perfect man, my butt,’ she muttered, returning her attention to the screen in front of her and wishing Lachlan Brant was anything but.

‘Can I help you, Mr Brant?’

Lachlan managed to maintain eye contact with the voluptuous receptionist of WWW Designs, whose name eluded him, which was no mean feat considering she had enough cleavage on show to tempt a saint.

‘Is Keely free at the moment? I’d like to have a word with her.’

In fact, he wanted to have more than a word with her, but the rest would have to wait. Ever since that almost-kiss last night, his mind had been plagued by images of her—the way she’d looked with her eyes locked on his, how she’d swayed towards him, how she’d sighed softly as she pulled away. Frankly, he’d been able to think of little else, and the only way to gain some peace of mind was to tackle the ‘problem’ head-on.