Walk on the Wild Side. Natalie Anderson

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      ‘A spa,’ she said, determined to speak clearly. ‘You know, a day treatment at a beauty parlour.’ Not just any parlour, the most exclusive salon in town. They obviously thought she really needed it—this guy probably did, too.

      ‘And what were you having done?’

      ‘Facial, massage, hair.’ She shrugged and lifted the cup to her mouth.

      ‘Cut or wax?’

      She nearly choked on the coffee. ‘Cut.’ She tried to lie like a pro but she knew her colour had risen higher. The nerve of him.

      He was grinning wildly now. Openly laughing at her plans for the day and stupidly she felt the need to justify it—even when it hadn’t been her idea. ‘I haven’t had a day off in four months. My boss said I needed to recharge my batteries.’

      ‘A beauty salon wouldn’t be the place to do that.’

      No. She’d have picked an art gallery. Preferably one in Paris. One day she’d get to do the travel thing—once she had her career established.

      ‘What about some fresh air? A walk somewhere nice? Wouldn’t that be more of a boost?’

      Of course he would be the outdoor sports guy—the sport billy, with a practically-kill-yourself-climbing-a-mountain-to-feel-good approach to life. She couldn’t think of anything worse. She just wanted to relax—and rest. ‘Fresh air isn’t good for my skin,’ she said with a helpless gesture.

      ‘No?’

      Was the man blind? She was practically albino. Well, not really—the hundreds of freckles proved her pigment worked all right. She felt her flush deepen. ‘I burn really easily.’

      ‘You could wear a hat,’ he drawled.

      She opened her eyes ingénue wide and batted her lashes as she drawled right back at him, ‘And ruin my hair?’

      His gaze rested on the tangle and then sliced into hers again. A split second of solemnity froze them both.

      And then they laughed—simultaneously, genuinely. She shook her head at her lame little joke. But the amusement warmed her veins better than the energising coffee she’d just swallowed.

      ‘Tell you what, Ms Spa Treatment, seeing you’ve lost your day at the salon, let me take you out instead. We’ll see how much better you feel after some fresh air.’

      She met the inviting blue pools that were his eyes and couldn’t ignore the tingling sensation spreading over her skin. Had she bumped her head in that accident and not realised? Because she was thinking all kinds of weird thoughts now—such as that this guy might actually be hitting on her. And that just couldn’t be possible. ‘Um…’

      ‘Come on, come and have some fun.’

      ‘It isn’t fun outdoors.’

      ‘You’re afraid.’ The smallest hint of provocation sharpened his gaze.

      No,’ she denied, ‘I’m just not.’ Believing this guy had just asked her out. ‘Interested.’

      ‘Really?’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Not even a little bit?’

      She swallowed. He knew he was gorgeous, didn’t he? But before she could think up even a vaguely suitable reply, he tweaked her nerves that bit harder.

      ‘You don’t like a challenge?’

      ‘You’re seriously suggesting that a day outdoors would be better than a day at a spa.’ She finally managed to answer, amazed her voice didn’t break like a teen boy’s.

      ‘A million times better.’

      ‘That’s quite some promise.’ She sipped the last drop of her coffee and wrinkled her nose as she got the bitter bits.

      ‘You’re going to take me up on it?’

      She avoided his eyes as she thought about it. Really, it was a no-brainer. She couldn’t bear the thought of going to the spa and apologising for her tardiness now. And she couldn’t go to work. As the only female designer, Kelsi felt a certain pressure to do better than the boys, but working extreme hours on a deadline had left her jaded and in need of a break—something her boss had noticed, hence the spa thing. She couldn’t let them know she hadn’t showed up.

      And what else would she do? She’d been working so hard since moving here she hadn’t had time to build a huge social life out of work. Honestly, she hadn’t built much of a social life at work either—her new computerboy colleagues were all into gaming and she wasn’t. That pretty much ended it. But she was quite sure Jack didn’t have social life issues. He was in a whole other league altogether—handsome, charming, bound to be a player. ‘You don’t have anything better to do?’

      ‘Not right now. No.’

      Her body was the ice cream, temptation the raspberry ripple—churning right through and flavouring every bit of herself. ‘What’s in it for you?’

      ‘The pleasure of seeing you cross over to the light side.’

      ‘The outdoor appreciation society, you mean?’

      ‘We might need to get something better for you to wear, though.’ His gaze narrowed.

      She stiffened—was he about to tell her what she should wear?

      ‘I thought girls were over the Goth phase by the time they hit their twenties.’ He smiled, skewering her on two fronts—with his gleaming expression and teasing words.

      But Kelsi’s swift flash of anger got doused by that expression. If her instincts were on track, he didn’t think her outfit was all that ugly.

      ‘I’m not Goth,’ she said, feeling his eyes burning through her—making her body respond in a far too physical way.

      ‘Emo then. The whole vampire thing, isn’t it?’ he asked softly. ‘Pale skin and weird-coloured eyes and loose dark clothes.’

      Kelsi clasped her hands together in front of her body, hiding the tightness of her nerves—and nipples. ‘I am not on the vampire bandwagon. I change my hair and eye colour all the time. And the pale skin I can’t help.’ The loose dark clothing accusation she had to admit to—but she had reason. ‘Covering up protects it from the sun.’

      She watched him look her over once more and half wished she were wearing her usual ten layers or so instead of just the one long dress. In fact, its spaghetti straps and thin, clinging fabric meant she was far more exposed than usual.

      ‘See, you are a vampire.’ He grinned suddenly, wickedly. ‘Concealing yourself.’

      ‘I’m revealing myself.’ She laughed at his ridiculousness. ‘It’s self-expression. I work in a creative industry.’

      ‘What, so you have to look as way out as possible? With dyed hair and unnatural eyes?’ He leant forward, penetrating. ‘What’s their real colour anyway?’

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