Man About The House. Alison Kelly

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      He allowed himself a smug chuckle as her expression came close to a drool. ‘Tell you what, you put those sheets in the machine while I go get dressed, then meet me in the kitchen.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Because it just so happens I’m the cure for your hangover,’ he said, returning to the task of peeling off his wetsuit. ‘I happen to cook the best damned bacon and eggs you’ll ever taste.’

      ‘You can’t do that while I’m here!’ The adamant declaration surprised him.

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t expect you to do all the cooking.’

      ‘I mean you can’t just take your clothes off like that!’

      Take my—’

      There was no containing his amusement once he’d caught on to where she was coming from, but he sobered quickly when she dumped the bedding onto the floor and pivoted towards the door. Acting purely on instinct, he threw out an arm, barring her escape; he instantly regretted the action when fear flared in those gorgeous eyes.

      ‘It’s okay, Joanna,’ he said hurriedly. ‘I’m dressed. That is, I’ve got a pair of swimmers underneath.’ Once again she flushed pink.

      A week ago he’d have sworn blushing had been entirely bred out of the last few generations of females, but Joanna Ford was a real revelation. A very attractive, very sexy revelation. It was clear she didn’t know what to say or where to look. Or rather, she was working hard to look at everything bar his bare chest, to which she was currently close enough for him to feel the warmth of her stuttered, ‘Oh. Well... I...’

      The husky quality of her uncertain whisper sparked interest in muscles of Brett’s body which in the wake of the emotional workout Toni had given him weren’t supposed to be looking for exercise. They especially weren’t supposed to be motivated by a petite twenty-two-year-old with more curves than common sense and a way of nibbling her mouth that made a man want to say, Hey...taste mine.

      When she did eventually bring her gaze to his face, her demeanour of shy expectation as she slowly slipped a strand of silky jet hair behind her ear almost made him groan. Had any other woman looked at him like that he’d have read it as a come on and accepted the invitation. Hell, he wanted to accept it now! Trouble was, as difficult as it was to believe, he doubted Joanna had a clue about the signals she was emitting.

      Deciding they both needed space Brett lowered his arm and stepped back. Producing what he hoped was a reassuring smile, he excused himself and headed to the bathroom.

      

      Brett heard her enter the kitchen scant seconds before a soft, awed voice officially announced her. ‘You really can cook.’

      ‘You seem surprised.’ He spared her a quick glance. ‘Can’t you?’

      ‘Can’t I what?’

      ‘Cook.’

      Her laugh was incredulous. ‘Of course I can. I’ve just never met a man who could.’

      ‘Then you must’ve met a lot of useless, skinny, hungry men.’ His teasing comment limped into an awkward silence.

      The way she was fidgeting with the carton of eggs lying on the benchtop hinted at her still being uncomfortable in his presence, for which Brett was grateful. It meant she’d be too distracted to notice any semblance of unease he might display, because there was no denying this girl seriously raised the level of his awareness meter. In the half-hour or so since their earlier encounter, she’d donned make-up and a trendy trouser suit and it irritated him. To his way of thinking, the sexy fashion-plate image constituted false advertising by promising things that were way out of this kid’s league and strictly off limits to him. Sans make-up, dressed in the blue jeans and sweatshirt of earlier, she’d been less of a threat to his good intentions by at least looking as innocent and unworldly as she so obviously was. Now she looked as if she not only knew the score but wanted the role of captain-coach in the game.

      He tried hard to concentrate on what he was doing, but was so aware of her watching his every move her gaze was almost like a physical touch.

      ‘Um, would you like me to set the table?’ she offered, after several minutes of razor-sharp silence which Brett figured had to have made her as uncomfortable as him.

      ‘Sure. Thanks.’

      Instantly she started into action, moving with the familiarity of having lived in the house for two months.

      The kitchen was by no means small, but somehow Joanna’s aura managed to fill every atom of space. Brett had never been so aware of another person’s presence in his entire life. On two occasions they got in each other’s way, and brushing against her felt like being zapped by a current of electricity. But her movements between the cupboards and the table, the sink and the fridge were a distraction even when she wasn’t in his line of vision or within touching distance. Bit by bit the musky scent of her perfume won dominance over the aroma of the cooking breakfast. and his heartbeat drowned out the sizzle of the bacon.

      The relief when he could finally sit down and have the width of the breakfast table between them was enormous. Well, it was until the silence again became a stilted roar. They might have both been going through the motions of eating with the automation of two robots oblivious to the other’s presence, but Brett figured between them they’d exercised more covert glances than a CIA agent did in a career. This was getting ridiculous! He was thirty-four, for God’s sake, not fifteen!

      ‘So,’ he said, quickly lowering his unintentionally loud voice when she physically started, ‘are you feeling any better now you’ve eaten?’

      Nodding, she quickly swallowed. ‘A bit.’ A tiny smile tugged at her mouth. ‘You were right; you are a good cook.’

      1 did warn you.’

      His teasing didn’t draw more than another small smile, but its briefness didn’t dull its impact. Brett scrambled to keep the conversation going. ‘You like Thai food?’

      ‘I don’t know. I’ve never had it. I had Italian once.’

      ‘Once?’

      ‘My family didn’t eat fancy stuff.’

      ‘Well, then, I guess I’ll have to introduce you to a wider culinary range while you’re here.’

      ‘Oh, no! Really. I wouldn’t feel right letting you fix meals for me.’

      ‘Why not? You have to eat, and it’s no fun just cooking for myself.’

      For several seconds she seemed nonplussed by his logic, then produced another of those killer smiles. ‘All right, but only if we take turns. You cook one meal, I’ll cook the next’

      ‘Fair enough.’

      Their gazes met and held, and Brett had a difficult time convincing his libido that he really wasn’t interested in any woman right now—much less the young girl across the table. Even if she was the most incredibly beautiful female he’d ever seen. Yet the hypnotic effect of those turquoise eyes made it impossible for him to look away, and they suffused his body with an inner warmth that was СКАЧАТЬ