He chuckled. “Yeah, I remember. That canoe was an example of nautical brilliance.”
“You could’ve fooled me. It took my new white T-shirt hours to dry off.”
“Exactly.”
He saw her pupils dilate as a hint of pink stained her smooth cheeks. She was incredible. She’d been outstanding tonight, almost convincing him she was a woman in love. If only she’d agreed to be his girlfriend without the money. She could have named any other price, just not damn money.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why do you want this partnership so badly?”
“I need to prove a lot of things to a lot of people.” He didn’t want to talk about this, not here, not now. He hoped his curt answer would stop her asking more.
“Does your father fall into that category?”
“Yes.”
“I like your dad. He’s always struck me as a fair man.”
“Fair? You’ve got to be kidding. Try demanding, hard, near-sighted. Except when it comes to his wives, of course. With them, he’s a pushover.”
“Do you miss your mum?”
He swallowed the rising bitterness. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“Do you blame your dad for what happened to her?”
“What do you think?” he snapped, his patience wearing thin. “What’s with the twenty questions anyway?”
“It’s been awhile. I just wanted to get reacquainted, find out what makes you tick.”
“Don’t waste your time. This is business, remember?”
If he said it often enough, it might take his mind off her lush curves and the delicate floral perfume that had haunted his senses all evening.
“How could I forget?”
He noted a hint of sadness in her voice. “About tomorrow—”
“Sorry, I don’t think I can make it. I forgot the Normanbys’ want me back to finalise a quote.”
He sighed in relief. “Rain-check?”
“Sure. Why don’t you fax me a copy of the engagements you expect me to attend over the next few weeks and I’ll slot them into my diary?”
“Good. I like a woman who’s organised.”
“You like women period.”
“Where did that come from?”
He couldn’t fathom the expression in her eyes as she gazed at him in the dim lighting cast by the nearest street light. “Sorry, I must be tired. Goodnight. Let me know your schedule.”
He leaned forward, drawn towards her by some inexplicable force. “Pleasant dreams.”
His lips grazed her cheek. He’d have preferred her full lips but she turned her head at the last moment. He could’ve sworn she muttered “not likely” as she stepped from the car. He watched her stride up the paved pathway without as much as a glance back over her shoulder. He willed her to look. She didn’t and disappointment niggled at his gut.
Gunning the engine, he manoeuvred the car away from the kerb, ready for another sleepless night, his dreams once again haunted by her memory.
* * *
Kara gave up any pretence at sleep around six and rolled out of bed, rubbing her gritty eyes. The charade with Matt was going to be harder than she thought. Last night had been amazing; he’d held her hand, flashed her intimate smiles and flirted with her for the entire evening. Those three hours had been magical as she caught a glimpse of what it would be like to be Matt Byrne’s girlfriend.
Cherished. That’s what she’d been. When Matt paid a woman attention, it was like being picked up, cradled and stroked, all warmth and softness. She’d allowed herself to forget who she was for those precious few hours and lapped up the attention.
Her response to his sailing invitation had been reflex. She’d love to spend the day on an isolated yacht with the man of her dreams. However, reality had set in and she’d made up that lame excuse about seeing clients. Sadly, he’d been just as eager to get out of it as she had. Then why ask her in the first place? Their situation was becoming more complex by the minute.
After a refreshing shower and quick breakfast, she lay back on the couch to scour the weekend newspapers. She’d barely made it to page three when the doorbell rang.
“Surprise. Time for a cuppa?” Sally bustled through the door, a waft of her signature rose essence left in her wake.
Kara was always glad to see Sal. However, there was no denying she’d hoped her visitor might be a tall, gorgeous lawyer with flashing blue eyes. “Sure, Sal. Besides, have I ever said no to your weekend calls when you always bring croissants for brunch? Take a seat and I’ll put the kettle on.”
“Seen the papers this morning?” Sally asked, as she sat at the table.
“I’ve just started reading them. Why?”
“No reason. Did you do anything last night?”
“I went out for dinner. Nothing terribly important.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing, dear. Why don’t you bring the tea and those crescent-shaped excuses for calories over here and we’ll read them together?”
Kara knew that twinkle in Sally’s eyes. It was the same look Sal had given her the other night, after she’d matched her with Matt as his perfect date.
“Whatever you say.”
Glancing over Sal’s shoulder at the newspaper, she almost dropped the plate of croissants.
“Isn’t that you and Matt, in the gossip columns, no less?” Sal’s wide-eyed innocence didn’t fool her for a second.
“Show me that,” She snatched the offending page as Sal chortled.
Sure enough, there was a colour photo of the two of them at dinner last night, spread over page ten. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the accompanying article raved about Matt’s latest “stunner” and how happy they looked together.
“Great. Just great.” She flung the newspaper back on the table and sat.
“What’s up, honey? If some photographer captured me looking like that, with a
