Читать книгу A Wedding At Windaroo - Barbara Hannay - Страница 10

GABE cleared his throat. ‘How to catch a man? Well…let’s see.’

A tawny owl winged its way overhead and he stared after it as it disappeared into the night. ‘To be honest, I’ve never really analysed what goes on when a man gets interested in a woman. It seems instinctive.’ He scratched the side of his neck thoughtfully. ‘But I guess something’s actually happening to our senses. They start reacting long before our brain realises what’s going on.’

‘Your senses? You mean sight, sound—that sort of thing?’ She was impressed. This sounded like useful, practical information.

‘I think so. I’d say sight would have to be number one for most blokes.’

‘Well, there you go. Men don’t even notice I’m female, so I don’t stand a chance.’

His eyes crinkled at the edges as his gaze slid over her. ‘It’s a bit hard for guys to see what’s available if a girl is always hiding under a wide-brimmed hat, jeans, baggy shirts and high-sided riding boots.’

She wriggled uncomfortably. ‘You mean I should be wearing clothes like Suzanne Heath? Dresses that are at least two sizes too small?’

‘Who’s Suzanne Heath?’

‘The chick Jonno was latching onto at a party last month.’

He stiffened like an animal on full alert. ‘So you’ve got your sights set on my little brother?’

‘No, not particularly.’ She shrugged. ‘He’s just an example. Just about any guy will do. Remember, I’m desperate.’

Lunging forward quickly, he surprised her by grasping her shoulders. ‘Piper,’ he said almost savagely, his eyes burning into hers, ‘promise me one thing.’

‘Yes?’ she whispered, forcing the single word past the sudden scary tightness in her throat. What was the matter with Gabe? He looked so fierce.

His hands gripped her hard. ‘You’re not desperate. Don’t sell yourself short. You mustn’t marry a man you don’t love.’

Startled by the ferocity in his eyes and his voice, she dropped her gaze and stared at her hands clenched in her lap as she said, ‘Maybe I’ll be easy to please.’

‘Don’t be. Just remember you deserve a good man. A man who’ll cherish you.’

Her head shot up. ‘Cherish me?’

‘Yep. That’s what you deserve.’ He smiled a shaky, crooked smile and released her shoulders quickly, as if he was surprised to find he’d been gripping her so hard.

‘I’ll remember that when the time comes,’ she said, trying not to sound as shaken as she felt. ‘But first I have to get at least one fellow to notice me. The problem is I don’t like the clothes men seem to like on women. I hate tight dresses with short skirts and low necklines.’

‘Why?’

She felt caught out by his question. ‘I—I don’t know. They look so uncomfortable.’

‘Have you ever worn one?’

‘No.’

Gabe’s smile looked more secure now. ‘It wouldn’t hurt to give it a go some time.’

‘But girls who wear them have plenty of curves.’

He grinned. ‘You go in and out in all the right places.’

She was surprised he’d noticed. But then maybe he was just saying that to make her feel better. ‘My ins and outs are very tiny. Do you think it would help if I stuffed my—my chest?’

‘Your husband-to-be might not be too happy when he discovers socks shoved down your bra.’

Her mouth tightened into a self-righteous pout. ‘By the time he finds out it won’t matter. It’ll be too late, won’t it?’

Gabe shook his head slowly. ‘My dear girl, you’ve got a lot to learn.’

She looked away. There was every chance she’d never find a man she wanted to share such intimate secrets with.

He reached over and flicked her ponytail. ‘Take that elastic thing out of your hair.’

‘Now?’

‘Yeah.’

Uncertainly, she hooked her finger under the elasticised band and slid it down, then shook her shoulder length hair free. Yellow hair, Grandad called it. Her driver’s licence said it was fair. A teacher at school had called it strawberry blonde. The biggest problem was that it came with very fair skin that she had to keep covered and out of the sun.

‘You should do that more often, Piper. You have very pretty hair. If you let a fellow see all that, especially in the moonlight, you’ll…make a big impression.’

‘I suppose…’

‘No supposing. I mean it—absolutely.’

‘So you reckon I need to let my hair down and buy a skimpy dress?’

‘It certainly can’t hurt to fem things up a bit.’

‘OK, assuming I get the looks sorted out, what comes next? What are the other senses? Sound? I don’t know if I could manage a low and husky voice for very long.’

He grinned. ‘Tell a guy what a great bloke he is and it won’t matter much how you sound. Flattery and flirtation go hand in hand. Anyway, you’ve never been one to screech or cackle. You sound fine.’

‘That’s a relief. So that brings us to smell. What impresses a guy when it comes to smell?’

‘Clean hair, clean skin.’

‘Perfume?’

‘If it’s delicate. Something that enhances your femininity but doesn’t get in the way of it.’

‘My femininity?’ What did that smell like?

An unsettling vision floated before her. She saw Gabe with a woman in his arms. A very beautiful woman with long silky hair and superior curves. Someone who smelled feminine. She could picture his sensuous lips caressing her exposed creamy throat, drinking in the smell of her.

An unexpected sound sent the image scattering. A kind of groan. Shoot! Had she made that noise? What was wrong with her?

What was wrong with Gabe? He was looking as embarrassed as she felt. Time to move this conversation along. ‘I’ll remember to make sure my perfume is delicate.’ So what senses were left? Sight, sound and smell were covered, so that left touch. Heck, no! She’d have to skip that one. But that only left taste, and no way did she want to know how she was supposed to taste!

‘Touch and taste aren’t really part of flirting. They don’t count, do they?’

‘If you’re looking for a husband they count for a great deal.’

Something about the way Gabe said that made her feel tight in the chest. ‘Well, yes. I suppose they matter when you get past flirting and around to kissing.’ She was definitely having trouble breathing. ‘Well, thanks for your advice, Gabe. I think you’ve covered everything.’

But now, darn it, he seemed reluctant to drop the subject. His deep voice penetrated the night. ‘Piper, you’re not frightened of intimacy, are you?’

Without warning, her blood began to pound through her veins, making her ears hum and her heart thump wildly. ‘I—I don’t think so.’

But she couldn’t be sure. Her limited experiences of kissing and necking ranged from mildly pleasant to downright mortifying. She should remember that this was Gabe, and if there was anyone in the world she could talk to about such embarrassing stuff it was him. Staring at her hands, still clenched tightly in her lap, she added softly, ‘I don’t know. I might be.’

She sensed him leaning towards her, and next moment his fingertips were touching her cheek ever so gently—so very gently—she could hardly feel them—and she found herself wanting to feel them, needing to feel them, found she was leaning her cheek into the curve of his hand. His big warm hand.

She knew exactly what it looked like. She could picture the strong, square shape of his palm, the light brown hairs on the back of his hand, the long, strong fingers. Eyes closed, she rubbed her cheek against his cupped hand.

She heard the rasp of his breathing and felt his thumb travel slowly down her cheek, over her chin and back again. She was amazed by how good it felt. Exciting, but sweet.

His fingertips circled slowly, ever so slowly over her cheek, her chin, her lips. Beneath his touch her skin felt different, highly sensitised, alive in a whole new way.

When his thumb moved again it reached her mouth and began to trace the outline of her lower lip. It strolled back and forth, back and forth. Then stopped.

No! She didn’t want it to stop. Hardly believing her daring, she dipped her head slightly and pressed her lips to his thumb.

Gabe’s husky voice sounded close to her ear. ‘I think you know a lot more about touching than you’re letting on, moonbeam.’

‘No,’ she whispered. ‘But I want to learn, Gabe.’ She pressed parted lips to his thumb again. The tip of her tongue touched his skin and she felt her skin flushing all over with a wild kind of excitement.

She was sure she was burning. Her face was hot. All over her body her skin felt aquiver with heat. Gabe’s face was so close, and she wanted to feel the midnight roughness of his beard against her cheek.

She suddenly knew that she needed his lips to roam her face the way his fingers had. Oh, yes, she wanted him to taste her. ‘Do you think you could kiss me?’ she whispered. ‘Just for practice?’

Somehow the gap between them seemed to be closing. Gabe was cupping her face with two hands now. He was so close. So wonderfully close. Was he going to kiss her?

She closed her eyes.

‘I mustn’t kiss you.’

Her eyes flashed open to see him pulling away.

‘What was I thinking?’ he cried, jumping to his feet.

One glance at the distress in his startled eyes and she felt exceedingly foolish. Embarrassed.

What was wrong with her? What had she been thinking? She’d been enjoying his touches so much she’d virtually thrown herself at him. How had she let herself be so carried away? With Gabe?

His hands rose to his head in a gesture of helplessness, then they dropped to his side as he let out an angry sound that was half-sigh, half-groan. ‘Piper, you have no idea how to protect yourself from men!’

Was he right? Her cheeks flamed as she watched him pace away from her, his boots crunching in the dirt. How on earth had this happened? When had their conversation taken such a dangerous turn? Had it been as Gabe described? Had her senses taken over before her brain could catch up?

He stopped pacing and turned abruptly, and she saw that his face was twisted with fierce emotion. ‘For heaven’s sake, Piper, if you go around offering yourself like that you’ll end up with the wrong man.’

Puzzled, contrite, she stared at him, while she forced her mind back over what had just happened. Minutes ago he’d been gently teasing her, then he’d been touching her with breathtaking tenderness and looking as if he wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to be kissed. And now he looked more angry and disturbed than she’d ever seen him.

But, hang it all, what did he have to get so fired up about? He’d been the one telling her how pretty her hair looked in the moonlight. He’d raised the subject of intimacy…

Heck! Gabe didn’t have a monopoly on anger. She was getting pretty mad, too. She’d been following his lead, trusting him completely while she let her senses take over.

Folding her arms very deliberately across her chest, she glared at him. ‘Heaven forbid that I should end up with the wrong man. I wouldn’t want a man like you, Gabriel Rivers.’

He didn’t reply at first. Just stood there with his hands shoved deeply in his pockets and his jaw set. For ages they stood facing each other without speaking, sizing each other up like gladiators in a ring.

Then Gabe gave a casual shrug of his shoulders and a fleeting grin twisted his mouth. Crossing back towards her, he settled onto the swag again. ‘Glad we got that sorted out,’ he said.