Читать книгу The Aristocrat and the Single Mum - Michelle Douglas - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

‘I…WHAT?’

Simon stood too, but he looked far from decisive. That was okay because she’d be decisive enough for both of them. If Simon wanted to rebuild his relationship with Felice, he had to learn to loosen up. ‘First things first.’ She twinkled at him. ‘We need to get you out of that suit.’

A giggle! For heaven’s sake, she wasn’t twelve. And that skippety-skip in her pulse had nothing to do with anything.

There was no denying, though, that the blood surged through her veins with a new kind of vigour.

Maybe that was a bad omen, not a good one?

She pushed the thought aside. This was about him, not her.

‘I’m guessing you don’t want to ruin that gorgeous Italian suit?’

‘Bond Street,’ he said automatically, as if he couldn’t help it.

‘That’s a no then, is it?’ She didn’t wait for him to answer but tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and tugged him towards a rack of clothes outside a nearby shop front. He was far too polite—or was that stunned—to resist.

‘Ooh, end of season sales. We’re in luck.’ She pulled out a pair of board shorts for inspection. ‘These look like they’d fit you.’

‘I’m not wearing those!’

They were pink and white candy-striped. ‘Pity.’ She hung them back up and pulled out another pair in loud red and yellow. She took one look at the expression on his face and shook her head. ‘No,’ she agreed. Then a bolt of pure mischief shook her. ‘Stop press! I’ve found the perfect pair.’ She pulled them out and held them triumphantly aloft.

Simon’s jaw dropped. ‘That’s the Union Jack.’

‘It is,’ she said, eyeing them with satisfaction. ‘And I think they’d suit your Lordship down to the ground.’

She suddenly found her shoulders seized in strong hands and Simon glaring down at her. His fingers curved into the soft flesh of her upper arms, firm but not hurting her. The barely contained power of the man transferred itself through his fingers to her arms…and then her brain. It made her pulse leap and jerk. For one fateful moment she thought he meant to kiss her.

If he did, she had an awful feeling she might just kiss him back.

Bad omen! Very bad omen.

‘Can we drop the Lordship thing?’ he growled. ‘Will you please just call me Simon?’

She swallowed and nodded. ‘Yes.’

He blinked as if he hadn’t expected such easy acquiescence. For some reason she found that…unbelievably sad. ‘I wouldn’t have teased you about it if I’d known you hated it.’ She had a feeling the lord thing would get right up her nose too. ‘I’m sorry.’

For a moment he looked lost and she wanted to hug him.

‘That’s okay.’

His voice sounded hoarse, then his gaze dropped to her lips. His eyes darkened from mist-grey to charcoal. Although he didn’t move a finger, his hands at her shoulders became gentler and almost seemed to cradle her. And he kept staring and staring at her lips. They tingled in response. They wanted to part, to offer him a provocative invitation.

Bad move. Reckless. But she couldn’t remember the last time a man had looked at her with such naked hunger. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had elicited a matching hunger from her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been reckless.

Gloriously and wondrously reckless.

She wasn’t free to be reckless.

But…

No. Not a good idea with a man who’d be gone in the blink of an eye.

‘Simon?’ she said, at the same time as he pulled his hands away and took a step back. She wondered if she looked as nonplussed as he did. She lifted the Union Jack board shorts, holding them up like a barrier. ‘That’s a no then, is it?’

He cleared his throat. ‘That’s a resounding no.’

‘Well?’ She gestured to the rack.

She watched his gaze dart along it. He pounced on a sky-blue pair. ‘These will do nicely.’ Then he did a double-take.

Kate started to laugh. ‘I dare you to,’ she challenged. The colour had obviously lulled him into a false sense of security. Overlaying the sky-blue was a Hawaiian print of golden beaches, palm trees and Hula girls. Exuberant and colourful.

Reckless.

He glared at her, raked a hand back through his too-short hair. ‘I take it there’s a point to all of this?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘And are you going to enlighten me?’

‘Perhaps. It depends on how wholeheartedly you throw yourself into it.’

‘Into what?’

‘Ah, if you can answer that at the end of the afternoon then I’ll most definitely enlighten you.’

His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

‘Simon—’ her hands went to her hips ‘—do you have anything else planned for the day?’

‘No, but…’

‘Then just go with the flow.’

‘The flow?’

Before he could think of another objection, Kate sped along to the next rack—T-shirts. ‘Any preference for colour?’ she tossed over her shoulder. ‘And do you like a tight T-shirt or something a bit roomier?’

He was staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. Again.

She cocked her head to one side and pretended to study him, tapping a finger against her chin. ‘I think you’d look great in a tight T-shirt, but for reasons of comfort I’d understand if you prefer a looser one.’

And finally he smiled.

She wanted to dance a victory jig. She didn’t. She just smiled back.

‘Are you always like this?’

She forced her eyes wide. ‘Like what?’ She handed him a shirt—blue-grey. It’d match his eyes.

‘Incorrigible.’

She touched a hand to her throat in mock surprise. ‘Moi?’ Then she pushed him into the interior of the shop. ‘Dressing rooms are that way. If the clothes fit, leave them on. The salesman will give you a bag for your suit.’

‘I—’

‘And you’ll need a pair of thongs.’ He gazed at her in horrified incomprehension and she added, ‘You know, flip-flops.’ She pointed to a row of them, then turned on her heel and left him to it, her heart racing and her palms sweaty. She swiped them down the front of her shorts. Go with the flow? As long as the flow didn’t contain any more thoughts of kissing and cosying up to Simon Morton-Blake, she’d be just fine.

She pulled her cell phone from her pocket.

‘God! Has he gone?’ Felice demanded, answering immediately and dispensing with pleasantries.

‘He’ll be busy for at least ten minutes, I think.’

‘Please tell me you’ve talked him into going home.’

‘You are joking, right?’ Kate cast a glance back towards the menswear shop. ‘I’m not even going to try. He claims he’s not leaving until he sees you.’

Felice uttered something midway between a groan and a snort. ‘Don’t worry, he won’t hang around in Australia for a whole fortnight waiting for me to show my face.’

Kate sensed the hurt that stretched behind those words. ‘We’ll see.’ She bit her lip. ‘Want to tell me about it?’

‘There’s nothing to tell. Other than the fact that he’s a total tyrant and too stuffy to step even a big toe out of line.’

Kate mulled that over for a moment. ‘You know what? I don’t think you should give a moment’s notice to anything other than enjoying your honeymoon.’ A girl only got one honeymoon. ‘I’ll take care of everything at this end, including Simon. I don’t want you to give it another thought.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Positive.’

‘Thanks, Kate.’

Felice rang off. Kate turned to wait for Simon.

When he emerged from the shop ten minutes later, she tried to wolf-whistle, but she’d never been able to wolf-whistle to save her life. Simon was definitely wolf-whistle worthy, though. ‘I’ve been dying to see your knees,’ she teased. He had great legs—strong calves, muscled thighs…even if said legs were a tad pale. A fortnight in the sun would set that to rights.

Simon didn’t smile. ‘I feel like an idiot,’ he grumbled.

‘You look like a holiday-maker,’ she returned.

Actually, he didn’t. He still looked too tense and…buttoned up for a holiday-maker.

And a bit too crisp and clean.

She could set that to rights, at least.

‘These are impossible to walk in.’ He lifted a thong-clad foot.

‘You’ll get the hang of them. C’mon.’

She led him across the road, through the park and down to the beach. She kicked off her canvas tennis shoes and closed her eyes, groaning in enjoyment as she dug her feet into sun-warmed sand. Heavenly!

She kinked open one eye and found Simon staring at her in appalled fascination—thongs still on his feet and two enormous plastic carrier bags clutched in his hands. His spine was as stiff as a surfboard. She opened her other eye and shook her head. ‘Simon, when was the last time you had a holiday?’

‘Holiday?’

Hmm… That said it all, really. She took the plastic carrier bags from his hands and set them carefully on the beach beside her tennis shoes. ‘Thongs there,’ she ordered, pointing.

He complied.

‘Now do this.’ She twisted her body from side to side until she’d sunk up to her ankles in sand.

To his credit, Simon didn’t glance around to see if anyone was watching, but followed her instructions to the letter.

‘Doesn’t that feel glorious?’ she demanded.

‘Er…yeah.’

He stared at her as if trying to work out what reaction it was she wanted. For the briefest moment her eyes stung. She wanted to yell, Don’t think about me. Do what feels good for you.

But if he hadn’t had a holiday in a long time…

‘You live in Europe, right?’

‘Last time I checked, England was still a part of Europe, yes.’

‘Oh, ha ha, everyone’s a comedian.’

He gave her a kind of half-grin. She gave him a full grin back. ‘Well, Spain is nearby, isn’t it? Don’t you go on annual holidays to…Aruba?’ She pulled the name from some dark recess of her mind.

‘Kate…?’

Ooh, her name sounded divine in that to-die-for accent. She started to twist again. ‘Mmm?’

‘Aruba is in the Caribbean.’

Was it? ‘What’s a holiday destination between friends?’ she said with an airy wave of her hand.

Simon threw his head back and laughed. She watched in satisfaction. She’d find the holiday-maker in him yet. Still grinning, he gazed out over the water of the bay and she recognised the flare of yearning that lit his eyes. ‘Why don’t you go in for a dip?’

‘I don’t have a towel.’

She shrugged. ‘So run across the road and buy a beach towel. Or dry off after on your T-shirt.’ That’d take the crispness out of it. In fact, it’d leave him deliciously rumpled.

‘What about you?’

‘I didn’t bring my swimsuit.’ She stared out at the water wistfully. ‘Though I have gone swimming in shorts and T-shirt more times than I can count.’ She pulled back. ‘No, no. I have to go back to work in a couple of hours. I have a meeting with my accountant.’ Which was a good thing, she told herself—a very good thing.

Then the scent of hot chips hit her and she forgot everything else.

Simon swung towards her when she groaned. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I am soooo hungry.’ She pulled her feet free from the sand. ‘Stay here. I’ll be right back.’

It took her less than two minutes to race up to the kiosk, buy three cones of hot chips and race back.

She handed Simon one. He grinned at the two she still held. ‘You weren’t kidding, were you?’

‘One for you, one for me and one for the seagulls.’

‘One for—’

She didn’t hear the rest of his sentence because she’d already thrown a chip in the air and seagulls descended from every direction to fight over it. ‘Your turn.’ She held the cone out to him. He took a chip and threw it. Seagulls dived and squawked. The air became alive with the flapping of wings. She laughed. He laughed. Feeding the seagulls was definitely a holiday thing. Fun.

When the cone was finished she tossed it in a nearby bin. ‘These ones are mine and I’m not sharing,’ she shouted to the seagulls, covering her cone with her hand. ‘Come and paddle,’ she said to Simon.

He blinked. ‘Whilst eating chips?’

She didn’t miss a beat. ‘It’s called alfresco dining.’ She cocked an eyebrow. ‘You English lords aren’t too high and mighty to get your feet wet, are you?’

‘Nah,’ he said, entering into the spirit, ‘it’s the colonials who eat with their fingers that frighten me.’

She laughed in delight. ‘I didn’t see you exactly rushing to bring out the silver service.’

‘I’d need a table for that.’ His eyes laughed down into hers. ‘Not to mention a butler.’

She’d known he had to have a sense of humour. He was Felice’s brother, after all.

They paddled and ate their chips. She watched the tension ease out of his shoulders, watched him lift his face to the sun.

‘When was the last time you did something like this with Felice?’ She tried to keep the question casual.

The tension shot back into his shoulders. His grey eyes speared hers.

‘It was just a question,’ she said gently. ‘Instinct tells me a bit of a rift has developed between the two of you.’

He drew himself up and glared at her and, although he wore board shorts and a T-shirt, he looked as formidable as if he wore a suit of armour. ‘I’m not prepared to discuss my relationship with Felice with a…’

‘Stranger?’ she finished for him. ‘That’s okay. You don’t have to. Let me tell you what I think has happened instead.’

‘I don’t—’

‘As you’re ten years older than Felice,’ she rushed on, talking over the top of him, ‘I expect you’ve always felt a certain amount of responsibility for her. As Felice is ten years younger than you, I expect some time in the last few years she’s rebelled against your…authority.’

She glanced at him. He didn’t say anything. His lips were clamped shut, but shadows haunted his eyes.

‘She’s spread her fledgling wings and that’s probably scared the beegeebies out of you because how on earth can you keep tabs on her when she’s flitting all over the place?’ She glanced at him again. He stared straight out to the front. ‘The short answer, of course, is you can’t. So you’ve become bossy and critical, she’s become defiant and defensive, and suddenly, instead of having fun together, all you do is fight.’

He stopped dead in his tracks and she knew she’d struck the proverbial nail. ‘You don’t know me. This is all…supposition!’

Supposition that had his hands clenching into fists, she noted. ‘I know Felice.’ Felice was family now. She wondered how Simon would react to that news when he heard it. He glared at her. ‘I know,’ she agreed. ‘I’m just a nosy colonial.’ But her brother had married into this man’s family and she wanted things to be right for Danny and Felice.

She wanted things right for Simon too.

‘I think there’s just enough of you in Felice for her to really get sick of your attempts to control her. Pushed too far, she’d up stumps and take off. Cut her losses.’

The colour leached from Simon’s face and Kate suddenly wanted to hug him. ‘But she’s a nice girl at heart,’ she continued, pretending not to notice his pallor. Pretending not to have noticed anything at all. ‘If my hypothetical situation ever occurred, I think a heartfelt apology would go a long way towards mending fences. An apology and a promise to butt out and let her make her own decisions.’ She lifted her face to the sun, welcoming its warmth. ‘After all, Felice is a competent young woman, more than capable of taking care of herself.’

The colour slowly returned to Simon’s face. They resumed their walk. The tension didn’t leave him, but she could sense that it had subtly shifted—seemed to be directed outwards rather than inwards now.

‘So,’ he finally said, ‘Felice has been enjoying her stay here?’

She sent him a deliberately droll look, then flung her arms wide to indicate the bay and its surrounds. ‘What do you think?’

He glanced around and a reluctant grin tugged at his lips. ‘I think she’s probably had a ball.’

‘Bingo.’

Sauntering along the water’s edge like this with Simon was strangely companionable. Kate pulled in a breath, filled her lungs with air, and beneath the salt tang lay the cool, crisp scent that was Simon—wood shavings, a hint of pine and something that was purely male.

‘Does your brother—Danny—live in Nelson’s Bay too?’

‘He does. We run the dolphin tour business together.’ She glanced up at him and smiled; she couldn’t seem to help it. ‘My father started the business over twenty years ago.’

‘And you enjoy it?’

‘I love it. Most of the time.’ She frowned. ‘Except on those days when staff call in sick—like this morning—and I have to run around like the proverbial headless chicken to get a replacement.’

His lips twitched. ‘Was that before or after the goldfish burial?’

‘During.’

He was silent for a moment. ‘And what do you and Danny do to have fun together?’

She tripped and almost fell flat on her face. But she righted herself almost at once and hoped her surprise didn’t show. ‘We share a passion for surfing and B-grade horror films. What about you and Felice?’

When he didn’t say anything she nudged his arm. ‘C’mon, there has to be at least one thing you guys like to do together. You have to have at least one good memory of hanging out with her.’

For heaven’s sake, he was a lord. Which probably made Felice a lady. They must’ve had the best toys, the best holidays…the best of everything.

He straightened and glared down his nose at her. ‘There are many.’

Boy, could he do haughty when he wanted to? ‘Then pick a stand out,’ she ordered. ‘When was the last time you made her laugh? Really laugh.’

He considered her words, then a slow smile spread across his face. ‘The time I taught her to walk on her hands.’

No toys. ‘Where?’

‘On the lawn at the Holm estate.’

No exotic location. ‘When?’

His grin broadened. Kate didn’t want to ask why it gladdened her heart so much.

‘It would’ve only been five years ago.’

‘Five years!’ She grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. ‘You can walk on your hands? Show me,’ she demanded. ‘All my life I have been trying to walk on my hands.’

So he did. He turned himself upside down and walked on his hands. His biceps bulged, the muscles in his forearms flexed, his T-shirt fell down to cover his face, and Kate’s mouth watered as she took in an impeccable six-pack. He took five or six steps on his hands—Kate wasn’t sure how many, she’d lost the ability to count—then he righted himself with a flourish. ‘Ta da!’ And then he bowed.

She stood there and gaped at him, then realised perhaps that wasn’t very cool so she executed a perfect cartwheel instead.

He nodded. ‘Nice.’

‘I’ll teach you to do a cartwheel if you’ll teach me to walk on my hands.’

‘I hate to break this to you, Kate, but cartwheels are a girl thing.’

‘Male gymnasts do them!’

‘Mmm…I’m still thinking they’re a girl thing.’

‘How about a back flip?’ she offered. ‘I can do a back flip.’

She did a back flip.

So did Simon.

And then it was on—the trying to impress each other, outdo each other. Showing off, pure and simple. Kate knew it was ridiculous and childish, but there was no denying it was fun. She laughed until her stomach ached. Then she laughed until it stopped. Finally, after another botched attempt on her part to walk on her hands, and Simon’s attempt to save her, they fell to the sand in a tangle of limbs.

Kate lay back and stared up at the bluest of blue skies and tried to catch her breath. She turned her head a fraction to feast her eyes on Simon’s profile. As if he could feel her gaze, he rolled to his side and propped his head on his hand. His eyes travelled over her hair, her face, and she could tell he liked what he saw. A thrill shot through her.

She tried to douse it with a dose of cold hard reality. She should pull back—turn away. Simon was a tourist. Nothing could happen between them.

‘Tell me,’ he started with a smile that could tempt a saint, ‘exactly how scandalised would that accountant of yours be if you showed up to your meeting a tad…damp?’

She pretended to consider it. ‘In all honesty, on a day like today, I expect he’ll be a tad damp too.’ And it wouldn’t hurt her to cool off.

Simon didn’t need any further encouragement. He picked her up, raced to the water’s edge and tossed her in. Her laugh was cut short as water closed over her head. She bounced up, spluttering, to find him grinning and barely wet. So that was how he wanted to play it, huh? She grabbed him, hooked a leg behind his knee and dunked him.

He burst out of the water, seized her around the waist and kissed her. Hot and hard. Before she could catch her breath. Then he pulled back, but he didn’t let her go and Kate knew this was what she’d been waiting for from the first moment he’d smiled at her.

He didn’t move. Not forward. Not back. As if giving her a chance to pull away, to stop what was about to happen from happening.

He had to be joking, right? She wasn’t going anywhere. Oh, she knew she should turn tail and run. But she couldn’t…wouldn’t.

One of his hands came up to cup her cheek—his eyes reflected her own confusion and wonder. Then his head dipped to hers and her lips lifted to his and she fell into him. But that seemed okay because his arms came around her and held her safe while his lips and his mouth and his tongue teased and tantalised and tempted.

Sensation spun inwards, then outwards, fizzing up through her like uncorked champagne. But still Simon held her safe. And the kiss deepened and grew until her arms twined around his neck and his hands splayed across her back, pulling her nearer, and even the gentle swell of the water propelled her closer and closer to him.

In his arms, all things suddenly seemed possible.

When Simon lifted his head, Kate didn’t know if it was seconds or minutes that had passed.

‘I…’ He blinked, slowly, as if waking from a dream.

‘Wow,’ she breathed.

He grinned. A low, sexy grin. ‘That’s the word I was looking for.’

She eased away from him a bit because, plastered against his chest like this, she found it next to impossible to think. And she had a feeling that thinking might become crucial in the next few minutes.

‘I didn’t mean for that to happen,’ he said, watching her carefully.

‘I know.’ She believed him.

‘Are you…okay?’ He drew back too, till they were no longer touching. Perversely, she wanted skin on skin again.

‘Yes.’ She wrung out her hair. Of course she was okay. She was in one piece, wasn’t she? The blood might be pumping around her body with more vigour than it normally did and her lips tingling as if they’d been thoroughly kissed—which was perfectly reasonable because, of course, they had been. But the sun still shone and the seagulls still squawked and somewhere children laughed and…

Everything felt different and she didn’t know why.

‘Are you?’ she asked. ‘Okay, that is.’

‘Yes.’ But he drew the word out slowly as if he wasn’t entirely sure and she was glad.

‘What I think we should do…’ she started, and his gaze shot to hers. She had to gulp back Kiss some more and replaced it with, ‘Find a nice shady tree to dry off under.’ She pointed to the strip of green beyond the beach and set off towards it without waiting for his answer.

She found a tree, sat under it and tried to talk sense into herself.

Simon lowered himself down beside her and she could feel him watching her. ‘Do you want me to apologise?’ he asked cautiously.

‘What?’ She swung to him. ‘No! No, of course I don’t want you to apologise.’

She wondered if his world felt turned upside down too.

‘I mean, that…’ she motioned to the water, to the spot where they’d kissed ‘…was…’

His lips twitched. ‘It was,’ he agreed, motioning to the same spot.

‘It’s just—’ she turned to face him more fully, tucking her hair behind her ears ‘—that was just about the best kiss that I’ve ever had.’ There was no probably about it!

He sent her another of those low, sexy grins that brought cheek creases and eye creases into play. ‘There’s plenty more where that came from.’

Her stomach rolled over and over on itself. Simon had hit holiday-maker mode with a vengeance and she liked it. She liked it a lot. ‘Wouldn’t that be reckless and irresponsible?’ She deliberately used the words he’d applied to Felice.

His face grew thoughtful and he drew back. ‘It would.’

‘Simon, I don’t do reckless and irresponsible.’

‘Nor do I.’

The longer she studied him, the greater the longing that built inside her. She hadn’t been with a man for a very long time, and normally she avoided any kind of romantic entanglement with tourists. Could she make an exception for Simon? The thought filtered into her mind and lodged there.

The next moment she tried to oust it. That hadn’t been a holiday fling kind of kiss. It had been a…for ever kind of kiss.

She and Simon for ever?

Oh, for heaven’s sake, get a grip. He lived on the other side of the world. She’d known him for a couple of hours. A sensible person did not make lifelong plans with a person they’d only known for a couple of hours. She’d obviously had too much sun. A sensible person wore a hat.

‘I can see what you’re thinking.’

Good God. She hoped not. She lifted her hands to her suddenly blazing cheeks. ‘What’s that?’ she managed to croak.

‘You’re thinking how you hardly know me.’

‘Bingo!’ The heat in her cheeks started to abate. ‘It’s true.’ She hadn’t even had the benefit of getting to know him by proxy through Felice.

He reached out and took one of her hands, held it between both of his. ‘It doesn’t feel true.’

She knew exactly what he meant. But… ‘You live a million trillion miles away on the other side of the world.’ She didn’t pull her hand from his.

‘Well, yes…or at least ten thousand miles, but what’s a trillion miles between friends, right?’

She managed a smile.

‘I am, however, for the next fortnight or so based here in Nelson’s Bay.’ His hands tightened around hers. ‘And I’d very much like to get to know you better.’

Her heart gave a joyful leap. She tried to curb it. Impossible. So she tried to talk sense instead. ‘Simon, what’s the point? I mean—’

He reached out and placed a finger against her lips. ‘Some things don’t have a point, Kate. They just are.’

His words shouldn’t make sense. They shouldn’t feel right.

But when he eased back and grinned at her, she grinned back and they both remained exactly where they were.

Carefully she detached her hand from his. ‘So you are going to wait for Felice?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you want to spend the next fortnight here in Nelson’s Bay?’

‘That’s right.’

‘The room Felice was using is free at the moment,’ she blurted out. ‘You can use it until she returns, if you like.’

Simon drew back and stared at her. ‘Stay with you…in your house?’

Good Lord, what was she doing? She gulped and swallowed and started to cough. ‘I mean, that’s not an invitation to…’ She gestured to that spot in the water again and found it impossible to meet his eye. ‘I mean, I don’t do…do…’

He reached out and touched her knee, his smile kind. ‘I think what you’re trying to say is I’ll be firmly ensconced in the guest room.’

She nodded because her throat had closed over at his touch and she couldn’t speak. When he removed his hand she wanted to sigh, but whether in relief or disappointment she didn’t know.

‘I would be honoured to accept your hospitality. And, Kate?’

She glanced up, met the clear grey of his eyes. They’d lightened until they resembled the colour of mercury—the same colour as the bay at dawn.

‘I promise I will behave like a gentleman. You can trust me.’

Could she? Yes, she had the distinct impression that she could. But could she trust herself?

‘And, to thank you for your hospitality, but also because I’d very much like to, may I take you out to dinner one night soon?’

She pointed to the spot where they’d kissed. ‘That can’t happen again.’

He met her gaze steadily. ‘It’s just a dinner invitation, Kate.’

She should say no. ‘I’d like that,’ she found herself saying instead.

‘The date ends,’ he said gently, ‘when you open your front door.’

It made her smile. He wanted to provide boundaries that would make her feel comfortable. She had a feeling that, despite their best intentions, one kiss would shatter those boundaries. It should make her feel wary. Instead, it fizzed her blood through her veins and made her want to throw her head back and sing.

‘Are you free tomorrow night?’ he asked.

Tomorrow was Saturday. Reluctantly she shook her head. ‘The weekends are our busiest days on The Merry Dolphin.’

He frowned. ‘The what?’

‘My boat—The Merry Dolphin. Look—’ she pointed ‘—there she is.’

She watched The Merry Dolphin glide through the entrance to the marina before glancing back at Simon. His jaw had dropped. ‘That’s your boat?’

‘It is.’ She couldn’t contain a surge of pride. ‘Lovely, isn’t she?’

‘Yes.’

But he was looking at her, not the boat. She tucked a non-existent strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously. ‘If you like, you could spend the day on the boat with me tomorrow.’

‘I’d like that. And Sunday?’

‘I’m working a half day this Sunday. I should be finished by two o’clock. I’m free in the evening.’

There was that sexy grin of his again. She scrambled to her feet before she could do something stupid—like kiss him again. ‘And now I have to meet with my accountant.’ She needed to get away, give herself a sensible talking-to.

They arranged to meet back at her office in a couple of hours and, although she did have a long overdue appointment with her accountant, although she knew she needed to give herself a darn good talking-to, she found her feet dragging as she walked away from Simon in holidaymaker mode.