Читать книгу Impossibly Pregnant - Nicola Marsh - Страница 9

‘Accessorise wisely. Choose a man with as much care as you would a handbag to go with those divine shoes.’

Tahlia Moran, long-time friend and expert on men.

‘WHAT happened then?’ Emma leaned forward, hanging on every word.

Keely took a sip of her sparkling mineral water and shrugged. ‘Nothing. Lucy came barging into my office and we sprang apart like we’d been doing something wrong.’ She stabbed the last piece of lettuce from her Caesar salad and forked it into her mouth.

Tahlia swivelled her head between the two of them as if watching a Wimbledon Final. ‘So you think he was implying you’re his perfect woman?’

Emma frowned and answered before Keely had a chance. ‘Of course. What else could he mean? Besides, she said he was flirting with her before then anyway.’

Tahlia ignored Emma’s response. ‘Em, you’d see the romantic side of two ants meeting on a crack in a footpath.’

Keely grinned as her two best friends discussed her love life—or lack of one, more like it—as if she wasn’t even there.

‘Romance makes the world go round.’ Emma pronounced it as a fact rather than one of her favourite theories.

‘I think you mean money,’ Tahlia said dryly, beckoning the waiter over to take their coffee order before they rushed back to the office.

Emma shook her head. ‘Not everyone’s as money-oriented as you, Miss Director of Sales.’

‘I’m goal-oriented, not money-oriented. There’s a difference. Nothing wrong with wanting to make it to the top.’

‘What about the glass ceiling?’ Keely teased, knowing her response was guaranteed to get a reaction out of Tahlia every time and thankful that the focus of the conversation had turned away from her encounter with Lachlan Brant.

Tahlia’s green eyes flashed as she waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘No such thing, honey. I’m going places in this company, just watch me. All the way to the top.’

‘Won’t the Rottie have something to say about that?’

Personally, Keely had every confidence that Tahlia would make it to CEO of WWW Designs, and she couldn’t wait for the day when Raquel was ousted from the top job. In fact, every employee would throw the party of the decade when that day came.

Tahlia tucked a strand of chestnut hair into her signature topknot and made an unladylike noise akin to a snort. ‘She won’t have a chance to say anything. I’ll muzzle her before keeping her on a short leash and locked away in her kennel.’

‘Meow!’ Emma made a clawing action with her perfectly manicured fingernails.

‘Hey, I wouldn’t be making cat noises around the Rottie. She’d eat you alive and spit out the bones for breakfast.’ Tahlia wiggled her fingers in a saucy wave at Andy, their usual waiter at Sammy’s, as he handed them the bill.

‘I can handle Ratchet Raquel,’ Emma said as all three of them leaned back in their chairs and watched Andy walk away, admiring the fit of snug denim to his butt.

‘Grrr…’ Tahlia growled.

‘Aah…’ Emma sighed.

‘Mmm…’ Keely allowed herself to be distracted for a moment—after all, she could appreciate a fine piece of anatomy like the next girl—before her dilemma niggled its way back into her mind.

‘So what do you think I should do?’ she asked, slipping her money into the folded bill without looking.

She had the same lunch at Sammy’s, the hippest café-cum-bar at Southbank—Melbourne’s hot spot for all things trendy—almost on a daily basis: sparkling mineral water with a twist of lemon, Caesar salad with low-fat dressing—hold the anchovies—followed by a fruit platter for one, capped off with a skinny latte.

Though she’d come to terms with her past, the feelings associated with spending years as an overweight, lonely teenager continued to dog her and she had no intention of ever feeling like that again. The trauma of what she’d gone through when she’d finally lost weight had left a lasting impression, one that she constantly strove to ignore.

So now she had to work hard to stay in shape, unlike Emma and Tahlia who seemed to devour calories without gaining an ounce. They actually joined her in weekly Pilates classes for fun! If they weren’t her best friends, she could easily hate their well-toned, under-exercised behinds.

‘I think you should weigh up the pros and cons before you jump into anything.’ Tahlia delved into her handbag, pulled out a newspaper and quickly flipped to the zodiac page.

‘Oh, no,’ Emma groaned. ‘Put that away.’

Tahlia raised an eyebrow and sent Emma her best ‘don’t mess with me’ look. ‘Keeping an eye on what fate may have planned for you isn’t a bad thing.’ She smoothed out the paper and ran a finger down the column. “‘Work brings challenges but your focus will shift to other things. Try to go with the flow.’”

Emma sighed heavily.

Keely stepped in before things turned ugly, as they inevitably did when Emma questioned Tahlia’s daily reading of the horoscopes. ‘Your zodiac stuff seems to have helped in your professional life, but what about in the men stakes?’

Tahlia shrugged, pulling a magazine clipping, featuring monthly predictions this time, from her bag. ‘Hasn’t steered me wrong in the guy department so far.’

‘But you haven’t got a man,’ Emma pointed out.

Keely had to agree, but didn’t want to gang up on Tahlia. Her tall, slim friend, who never had a hair out of place, might have it together in the career department but she wasn’t exactly ‘out there’ when it came to dating.

Tahlia sent them both a scathing look. ‘That’s from choice, not from lack of prospects.’ She turned to Keely. ‘Now, do you want to hear what you should do about the sexy psychologist or not?’

What did she have to lose? Keely hadn’t had so many sparks with a guy since…well, since…ever. And, if her intuition was correct, Lachlan had been striking a few matches of his own in her office this morning.

But what if he finds out you’re the one who gave him grief on national radio?

It wouldn’t be so bad. He struck her as a guy with a sense of humour. Maybe she should come clean and tell him the truth?

Yeah, right.

Would he still be interested in her if she revealed her identity as the woman who’d called him a Freudian fraud, a babbling psycho and a hack who dished out advice like a near-sighted agony aunt?

Somehow, in the cold light of day, she didn’t think so.

Whatever Madame Tahlia and her crystal ball had to say couldn’t be any worse than telling the truth.

‘Okay, let me have it. What should I do?’

Tahlia pursed her lips and nodded like an all-seeing sage. ‘“A study or work contact could end up being someone you want to do more than just have lunch with. Embrace the goddess within you and watch them fall: your man won’t be able to keep his hands off you.’”

She shrugged and stuffed the cutting back in her handbag. ‘So there you are.’

‘But what does it mean I should do?’

‘I don’t know, but now you’re fully informed.’

‘Give me a break,’ Emma muttered under her breath.

Tahlia ignored her. ‘You’re a Scorpio, right?’

Keely rolled her eyes and laughed. ‘Libran.’

‘Just kidding!’ Tahlia smiled as she stood up and swung her bag over her shoulder. ‘Your fate’s in your hands, kiddo. It’s written in the stars.’

Keely refrained from answering. None of the past horoscope predictions had come to fruition yet: she was still waiting for that promotion, she hadn’t travelled in five years, and she was still waiting for a tall, dark and handsome stranger to sweep her off her feet.

‘Thanks, Tahlia.’ She turned to her other friend. ‘Em, what do you think?’

‘Honestly? I think the wise woman over here has it partially right.’ Emma sent Tahlia a cheeky grin and Tahlia raised her nose in the air as if ignoring her. ‘Seems like fate has dropped this amazing guy into your lap. Why don’t you take a chance and see what happens? He could be the love of your life.’

Unfortunately, that was exactly what Keely was afraid of.

Keely stared at the blank piece of paper in front of her, wondering where her muse had disappeared to. Usually when she had a new client she loved to brainstorm on paper, bringing together a host of ideas and inspiration to create the final product.

In this case, the Brant file lay open on the desk to her right, the blank page on her ergonomic incline board and she didn’t have a clue. The harder she tried to come up with a concept, the more her mind drifted to the man at the centre of her project and she would start fantasizing, from the way his dark hair curled around the edges of his collar to the unique blue of his eyes.

A beep on her PC indicated she had mail and she clicked on the icon to display her e-mails—anything to distract her from her wayward thoughts.

To: KeelyR@WWWDesigns.com

From: Lucy-PA@WWWDesigns.com

Subject: New talent

Sorry 2 barge in on U & LB earlier.

Wow! IMHO, he is 2 cute!

U interested?

Luce

Keely smiled, in total agreement with her assistant’s ‘in my humble opinion’ appraisal of Lachlan, though cute wasn’t the first word that sprang to mind when describing him. Try sexy, irresistible and charming.

She typed a quick response, knowing she needed to concentrate on work but grateful for the distraction. Anyway, it would be interesting to get another female’s viewpoint on the subject—besides her overzealous friends, that was. If it was up to Emma and Tahlia, she’d be married to the guy already.

To: Lucy-PA@WWWDesigns.com

From: KeelyR@WWWDesigns.com

Subject: Latest assignment

Speaking of which, working on LB website now.

By the way, LB off-limits 2 U.

Interest level rising—all in the name of business, of course! U concentrate on Aidan.

K

She had no right to warn Lucy away from Lachlan. However, she took her job seriously these days, and if the Rottie told her to shadow the man, she would. She could shmooze with the best of them, yet somehow the thought of spending up close and personal time with her new client sent her into a tailspin—and she sure hoped she wouldn’t crash and burn.

Now, if she could just come up with a novel way to approach the man, without looking too obvious, she’d be well on her way to that hard-earned promotion.

Her phone rang and she picked it up, expecting to hear Lucy’s teasing tones.

‘Keely, Lachlan Brant here.’

She straightened so suddenly that she almost tipped out of her chair. Silly, really—it wasn’t as if he’d walked into the room or anything.

Taking a breath and aiming for casual, she said, ‘Hi, Lachlan. What can I do for you?’

He hesitated for a fraction of a second and, with her overactive imagination, the pause seemed laden with promise—maybe he would tell her exactly what she could do for him and, with a bit of luck, it wouldn’t involve work?

‘I was wondering how the website is coming along?’

She stared at the blank page and screen in front of her, crossed her fingers and said, ‘Fine. I’ve just been hashing around a few ideas.’

‘Such as?’

Great. Though she was creative in her job, she’d never been any good thinking on the spot, and having to tell little white lies was not one of her strong suits.

‘Uh…well, seeing as you’re on the radio, I was thinking of focusing on you to start with. Sort of like getting to know the man behind the voice?’ She silently applauded—not bad for quick thinking.

‘Sounds good. That’s why I’m calling, actually.’

She should’ve known. For a moment she’d hoped he’d been calling to keep flirting with her or, better still, maybe ask her out.

Get real. Focus. Before he thinks you’re a complete ditz.

‘I was wondering if you’d like to come out to the station tonight and take a look at where I work. You know, get a feel for what I do, maybe incorporate a few ideas into the site?’ His voice dropped lower, the deep tone sending an unexpected thrill up her spine. ‘Perhaps grab a coffee afterwards?’

He’d asked her out! He’d actually taken the matter of approaching him out of her hands and she couldn’t be happier.

‘Bring along my file and we can work on it while we have that caffeine fix.’

And, just like that, her hopes, which had soared to the heavens a moment ago, plummeted back to earth with a resounding thud.

He didn’t want to stare into her eyes over the rim of a coffee mug, flirt with her over an espresso or moon over a muffin.

Uh-uh. He’d asked her to have coffee with him to work.

She should be rapt he’d given her an easy way to start her assignment without having to come up with some lame excuse herself. Then why was she disappointed that his invitation had been about business and not a teensy-eensy bit of pleasure?

Instilling the right amount of enthusiasm into her voice, she replied, ‘Sounds good. What time should I meet you?’

‘Why don’t I pick you up? The security at the station can be a bit tough on strangers, particularly for the night shift. There’s a lot of crackpots out there who have nothing better to do than heckle me.’

She choked on the sip of water she’d been having, coughing and spluttering while trying to contort her arm to pat herself on the back.

‘Are you okay?’

She could’ve sworn she heard amusement in his voice but dismissed it. What was so funny about the fact that she’d almost choked to death?

‘Surely my suggestion to pick you up hasn’t got you that choked up?’

‘Depends on your version of picking up,’ she said, wondering where that had come from.

Darn it, he’d think she was flirting with him—which she was, but why couldn’t she be a whole lot more subtle about it?

‘Let’s start with the standard garden-variety pick-up from your place and see if we can work on the other pick-up over coffee.’ He chuckled, the sound of his rich, deep laughter enveloping her in its intimate cocoon, drawing her further under his spell.

And, just like that, he took up where they’d left off in her office, flirting like a pro.

She really shouldn’t encourage him.

He was business.

He was a psychologist who could spend a lifetime psychoanalysing her.

He was way out of her league.

‘I take your silence as agreement?’

Managing to shake herself out of her fantasy world, she said, ‘It’s an improvement on the choking, don’t you think?’

‘Nothing about you needs improving, Keely.’

She loved the way he said her name, drawing out the ee sound in its correct pronunciation. Many people called her Kelly and she hated it.

‘Thanks. What time tonight?’ She knew his show started at seven, which wouldn’t give her much time to get home from work and do the usual pre-date routine.

It’s not a date, her voice of reason screamed. And she happily ignored it.

‘Is six too early?’

Heck, yes! She wouldn’t have time to blow-dry her hair, pick out an outfit designed to impress and do a quick tidy up just in case he popped in afterwards.

‘No problem. I live in Beacon Cove, Port Melbourne. Apartment 8/24 on the Esplanade.’

‘Great. I’ll see you at six.’ He suddenly sounded brisk and businesslike and she wondered if she’d just imagined the whole conversation and its undertones.

‘Keely?’

‘Mmm?’

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

He disconnected before she had a chance to respond, which was rather fortunate as it would’ve been hard to answer him while grinning like a loon.

Keely barely raised her head as Lucy entered her office. She didn’t have a moment to waste and, apart from having to head home and get ready, she needed to have something down on paper for Lachlan’s file. Otherwise he’d know she was a total phoney. About the only ideas she’d hashed to date were about the two of them getting up close and personal, and she didn’t think that would be appropriate to have on his web page, displayed for the world to see.

Lucy perched on the end of her desk, took off her rose-coloured glasses and wiped them with the end of her funky lime-green top.

‘What’s got you in a tizz?’

Keely placed the Brant file in her tote bag and zipped it shut. ‘I have to leave. Now.’

‘Hot date, huh?’

She shook her head. ‘No.’ And, despite her best intentions to stay cool about the evening ahead and not read anything into it, she blushed.

Predictably, her astute assistant pounced. ‘You have got a date! And I bet I know who it’s with. Would the initials LB mean anything to you?’

‘It’s part of my research for his website,’ Keely responded, trying not to encourage Lucy. That was all she needed—for Lucy to rev her up even more than she already was.

‘Oh, right.’ Lucy’s eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips, as if pondering a particularly difficult puzzle. ‘So that’s what they’re calling it these days. Research.’

‘Luce, I haven’t got time for this.’ Keely picked up her bag and headed for the door. ‘Besides, shouldn’t you be working on the Flirt account?’ She clicked her fingers as if remembering something. ‘Speaking of Accounts, have you been down there today? I heard Aidan popped in to oversee some discrepancies.’

Keely scored a direct hit as Lucy flushed a deep crimson. ‘I may have seen him briefly.’

‘Why don’t you ask him out? He’s perfect for you.’

Lucy slid off the desk and smoothed her skirt down. ‘I really must get back to work.’ She stopped at the door and wiggled her fingers. ‘Have fun tonight.’

‘It’s work.’

‘Whatever. I’ll expect an e-mail with the details of your research first thing in the morning. Bye.’

‘It is just work,’ Keely muttered under her breath as she followed Lucy out the door, wishing she could believe it.

The doorbell rang as Keely slicked gloss over her lips and took a final look in the mirror.

Not bad—black bootleg pants, burgundy fitted top, hair blow-dried to perfection and just a hint of make-up to make the most of what the good Lord had given her.

Not great, but not bad. Hopefully, Lachlan would be impressed.

As she opened the front door and his eyes lit up she had her answer.

‘Hi,’ was all she could manage.

If she thought he’d looked impressive at the office that morning, in suit and tie, it was nothing compared with his casual look. The combination of jeans, white T-shirt and black leather jacket had never looked so sexy on a man—and this was no ordinary man.

‘You look great. Ready to go?’

She nodded, finally managing to tear her gaze away from the way the white cotton moulded to what looked like rock-hard pecs beneath.

‘Just let me grab my bag,’ she said, hoping that the bag was all she managed to grab in the next sixty seconds.

As if she hadn’t had a hard enough time convincing herself that tonight was only about business, he had to turn up here looking like that.

‘Nice apartment.’ He stood at the door looking in and she suddenly realised that the minute she’d caught sight of him all rational thought—along with her manners—had flown out the window.

‘Come in,’ she said, getting more flustered by the minute as she picked up her bag and his file slid to the floor.

Great—she must’ve forgotten to zip it up earlier, when she’d slid a brush and lippy for touch-ups alongside the all-important folder.

‘Here, let me help.’ He bent down and reached for the scattered papers at the same time she did, their heads colliding in a sickening crunch.

‘Ouch!’ She sank back on to the floor and rubbed her forehead, silently cursing. It looked as if her clumsy curse around cute guys had reared its ugly head again.

Thankfully, he laughed and reached out a hand to help her off the floor. ‘Do I make you uncomfortable or are you always this graceful?’

‘It’s you,’ she said, and joined in with a rueful chuckle.

‘Mmm…first you up-end half your desk when I sit next to you, now you drop your bag when I get within two feet and give me a concussion in the process. It must be me.’

He pulled her up as she placed her hand in his and true to form, she stumbled against him. Totally unintentional, of course.

As she braced herself against his chest—yep, those pecs felt every bit as good as they looked—and he gazed down on her with a tender glint in his eyes, she suddenly didn’t mind being such a klutz.

And when he rested his hands on her hips and smiled in that special way he had, as if she was the only woman in the world, she could’ve quite happily caused havoc by stumbling, upending bags and messing up desks every day of the week.

‘If I’m the problem, what’s the remedy?’

‘You’re the doc, why don’t you tell me?’ Her voice came out all soft and breathy while her pulse raced double-time as his hands tightened their grip, sending bolts of electricity shooting through her body.

So much for playing it cool. They hadn’t even made it out of her apartment and the evening had taken on an intimate feel.

‘Take two kisses and call me in the morning.’

O-kay. Think quick. Respond with something light-hearted and witty.

However, all she could do was stand there and stare at him while his gaze stayed riveted to her lips, as if he’d like to follow up on the first part of his advice. As he leaned forward her heart jolted at the clear intent in his eyes and she was sure the air crackled with tension around them.

Work…assignment…client…

The words filtered through her dazed mind and acted like an instant dampener and she reluctantly looked away.

‘If that’s one of your cures, I’m not surprised you’re so popular,’ she murmured, managing a weak smile as her gaze fixed on his chest.

What would he think of her almost letting him kiss her? Totally unprofessional for starters, and as for the rest…

He tipped her chin up, gently forcing her to meet his stare. ‘Don’t second-guess yourself.’

How did he do that? She’d begun to doubt herself the minute she’d averted their near-kiss and he knew it. Despite her intoxicated ranting over the airwaves last week, he did know his stuff. And wouldn’t he have a field-day if he found out why she’d been so riled about his advice to the overweight teenager that night she’d given him a verbal blast?

She opened her mouth to respond and he placed a silencing finger against it. ‘And, no, I don’t dish out that remedy to just anyone.’

‘That’s reassuring.’ She aimed for brevity but her comment came out sarcastic as she pulled away from him completely, needing to establish physical distance between them to gather her thoughts.

Rather than pushing her for an explanation for her erratic behaviour—welcoming his attention one minute, freezing him out the next—as she half-expected him to do, he fixed her with a curious stare before turning away.

‘As much as I’d like to cure your clumsiness, we’d better get to the station. I need to be on the air in less than an hour.’ He picked up her bag and handed it to her as if nothing had happened. ‘All set?’

She managed to nod, follow him out and lock up without further mishap. However, amidst her confused state at what had just occurred, one thought penetrated.

If kisses were part of his cure, she suddenly had a distinct hankering for treatment.