The Rebel And Miss Jones. Annie Claydon

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СКАЧАТЬ his brow—were nothing in comparison to being able to look for as long as she liked at the whole thing.

      Just a moment more. One minute, to fantasise that she wasn’t who she was, and he didn’t live ten thousand miles away from where she had to be in another couple of weeks. It didn’t work, and a minute wasn’t enough. Sara drew back, and headed for the kitchen.

      She’d made coffee for herself and sat in one of the wicker chairs on the patio with a book from the stack on the breakfast bar. She’d reckoned that she ought to wake him, and then chickened out and read another couple of chapters. Finally she decided that food would probably do the trick.

      The amount of chopping, clattering and general commotion that it took before she heard his footsteps in the hallway attested to how tired he’d been. As did the fact that he was still half-asleep and had clearly forgotten that having company generally meant you didn’t walk around the house half-naked. Sara concentrated on not slicing her finger along with the vegetables on the chopping board. She’d already seen what Reece had to offer, and there was no point in staring at what she couldn’t have.

      ‘Ready for something to eat?’ She flung the words over her shoulder and then gave in to the inevitable and looked in his approximate direction.

      ‘Uh? How long have I been asleep?’ He ran his fingers backwards through his hair in a lame effort to tame it a little.

      ‘It’s two o’clock.’

      ‘What?’ He straightened, suddenly seeming to come to. ‘We should be at the hospital by now. Sara, I’m sorry. Why didn’t you wake me?’

      ‘Because you were asleep. How do you like your steak?’

      He stared at her as if she had just landed in his kitchen from outer space. ‘What?’

      ‘Kath left some steak in the fridge. I hope you weren’t planning on saving it for anything else?’

      ‘No … no, of course not. What about Simon?’

      ‘I called him and told him we’d be with him later on this afternoon.’

      He grinned. It was the kind of easy, open grin that melted your heart, set it sizzling like butter in a pan. ‘How is he?’

      ‘He says he’s fine. I’d like to see for myself, though.’

      ‘Yes, we’ll go as soon as we’ve eaten.’ He tried to see what she had on the cooker. ‘What’s that you’ve got there? Smells great.’

      Sara stepped in front of it. ‘Wait and see. Are you hungry?’ She was getting a crick in her neck. Fixing her gaze on his face, not allowing it to wander down to his chest, to the tiny line of sun-bleached hairs that disappeared into the waistband of his shorts, was making her jaw throb.

      He grinned. ‘I could eat a horse.’

      ‘Bad luck, then. That’s not on the menu. You’ve got ten minutes to have a shower if you want to.’ Sara hoped that was enough of a hint to get out of her hair and stop distracting her. Maybe put some clothes on.

      ‘Oh. Yeah, thanks.’ One hand wandered to his chest and stayed there, as if he had only just realised that he had no shirt on. He turned quickly, and Sara allowed herself just enough of a glance in his direction to confirm that the view from the back was as good as that from the front. ‘Pink.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘The steak. Pink but not too bloody, thanks.’ He threw the words over his shoulder and disappeared.

      He was back in five minutes, thankfully wearing a clean pair of cargo pants and a shirt, his short hair already half-dry. Banished once more from his own kitchen, he busied himself with laying the table in a shaded part of the veranda.

      Sara laid his plate down in front of him and he grinned appreciatively.

      ‘Looks good! If I’d been awake, I would have thrown myself in between you and the cooker.’

      ‘In case my cooking’s like Simon’s?’

      ‘Yeah.’ He waited for her to sit down, and cut into his steak. ‘This is just perfect.’

      Steak with a black pepper sauce, potato gratin and green beans. Nothing fancy, but all done from scratch. ‘Good. Thanks.’

      ‘I could get used to this.’ He tried the potatoes and nodded with approval. ‘Obviously Simon missed out on the family cooking lessons.’

      ‘Yes. Missed out on a lot.’ Sara stopped herself. She didn’t want to say anything to Reece that Simon wouldn’t want him to hear. ‘How long have you known him?’

      ‘Ten years. He was working on the architect’s plans for an extension to the hospital where I was working. Kath was there to meet me, and he tried to chat her up in the canteen.’ Reece was grinning.

      ‘So you found my brother trying to hit on your sister …’ Sara laughed. ‘How did that go?’

      ‘Oh, pretty much as expected. I thumped my chest and growled a bit, and Kath kicked me under the table. Simon had told her that he was only just off the plane, and before I knew what had hit me, she’d roped us both in for a trip up to Sydney with her friends.’

      ‘And did Simon and Kath ever …?’ Sara waved her hand to indicate whatever it was that might have happened between the two of them.

      ‘Nah. Kath’s interest was purely humanitarian. We’ve both been in that situation enough times—new place, no friends—and she was just trying to make him feel at home.’ He grinned. ‘Kath does that.’

      Reece did too. He’d taken her in without a second thought. ‘Thank you. For looking after him.’

      Reece gave her the smallest of nods in acknowledgement. ‘So what about you?’

      ‘Me?’

      ‘Who looks after you?’

      The question floored her for a moment and she stared at Reece, not sure quite how to answer. ‘No one.’

      ‘Surely there must be someone.’ Reece was gazing at her intently and Sara felt her cheeks flush. ‘Or haven’t you told Simon about him yet?’

      Suddenly, and quite unaccountably, she felt the need to defend herself. As if being single made it okay for her to have looked at Reece and wanted him, even if it was impossible, and she’d rather be dangled over a tank of hungry sharks than admit it.

      ‘There’s nothing to tell.’ There was no time for a man in her life. When she wasn’t working, Gran took up all of her spare time. A man couldn’t be expected to stay with a woman who could only give him about five minutes of her undivided attention per day. ‘There’s been no one since before my mother died. And Simon’s my only close family.’

      Apart from Gran. Simon seldom asked about her, probably assuming that she still lived independently, and Sara didn’t dare tell him any different until she could be more sure of his reaction. She could just about understand him staying away when their mother had been ill, but if he acted the same way with Gran, Sara would never be able to forgive him. СКАЧАТЬ