Unlocking The Millionaire's Heart. Bella Bucannon

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СКАЧАТЬ eyes narrowed, drawing his thick dark brows obliquely down, and his mouth quirked as he spoke in a mild tone. ‘We’ll save that war until later. For that quip, I’ll select.’

      His flippant remark left her breathless, lips parted and with tingles scooting up and down her spine. She drained her water glass, incapable of forming a retort. He was smart—a fast thinker. A man not to be toyed with.

      Her mind inexplicably recalled the adage Make love not war, and a hot flush spread up from her neck. Lucky for her, a young waiter arrived for their orders, and she ducked her head to read from the menu.

      I’ll start with the smoked salmon with capers,’ she told him, ‘and have the barramundi with a fresh garden salad for my main.’

      Nate chose oysters with chilli, coconut and lime as an entrée, followed by grilled salmon and steamed vegetables.

      The wine he ordered was unknown to Jemma, and the hours she’d spent stacking refrigerators and racks had given her an extensive knowledge of labels. She’d also filled and emptied many a dishwasher, so figured she’d earned any offer to dine out for years to come.

      ‘You obviously enjoy seafood.’

      Nate’s upper body leant forward over his crossed arms on the table, his intent to follow their agent’s suggestion of becoming acquainted evident in his posture. Pity there was little affability in his tone, and a suspicion there was more to his manner than giving her access to his writing began to form.

      ‘Barramundi is my mother’s specialty. I like to compare other offerings with hers.’

      ‘She’s a good cook, huh?’

      Jemma laughed. ‘Don’t ever call her that if she has a knife in her hand—which, by the way, will always be sharp. Both she and Dad are qualified chefs, and live for their profession.’

      A speculative gleam appeared in his smoky eyes, holding her spellbound, feeling as if he were seeking her innermost thoughts. His features remained impassive, his voice with its intriguing hint of roughness calm. The only sign of emotion was the steady tapping of two left-hand fingers on his right elbow, an action he seemed unaware of.

      ‘I’m guessing that didn’t leave much time for child-rearing.’

      ‘I didn’t mean—’

      The waiter appeared with their wine, sending the next words back into her throat. She’d have to set him straight—hadn’t meant to give that impression. Yet as Nate sampled the small amount of wine poured into his glass she couldn’t deny the facts. There had been little time for any of the usual parent/child activities, though they’d encouraged and financed Vanessa’s modelling courses. They’d gained publicity, of course, when she’d won an international contract.

      On Nate’s approval, her glass was filled. As she savoured the crisp, dry flavour he raised his glass to her without speaking, drank, then set it down.

      ‘This is good. I approve of your choice, Nate.’ She took another sip and let it linger on her tongue, waiting for him to continue the conversation about family. He didn’t.

      I presume you don’t write full-time? Do you have another career?’

      ‘I paint pictures of Australian flora and fauna, mostly on small tiles, and work part-time in the gift shop where they’re displayed. I also sell them at local markets.’

      ‘Let me guess—koalas and wombats top the list?’

      Hearing the hint of condescension in his voice, she clenched her teeth and felt her spine stiffen. She tightened her grip on the stem of her glass and held back the retort his words deserved.

      ‘They’re up there. Mother animals with babies are my bestsellers, along with bright native flowers.’

      ‘And where’s home?’

      Firing questions seemed to be his idea of becoming acquainted. She obliged, giving him only the information she wished to reveal.

      ‘The Adelaide Hills.’

      ‘South Australian bushfire territory? I was there in 2015. The risks don’t worry you?’

      * * *

      Nate saw the flicker of pain in her eyes and the slight convulsion in her throat—heard the hitch in her voice when, after gazing out of the window for a moment, she answered.

      ‘That year was my first summer as a resident there. A close friend lost property, some sheep and their pets—a cat and two dogs. Meg and her family were devastated, yet they stayed, rebuilt and adopted from the animal shelter. They taught me how to minimise risks, and although the worry is there every year, it’s balanced by living with fresh air in a friendly, small-town atmosphere. Big cities are for holidays and shopping sprees. How about you?’

      Sprung. He’d kept his questions basic, complying with the intent of Brian’s words if not the spirit. He hadn’t expected to hear a familiar story—one he’d heard a few times since he’d moved to the mountains. Given her parents’ profession, he’d pictured her living in Adelaide or one of its suburbs.

      Bracing himself for her reaction, he answered.

      ‘The Blue Mountains.’

      He was treated to a sharp intake of breath between parted lips, a delightful indignant expression and flashing eyes. Against his will, his gut tightened in response.

      ‘That’s the New South Wales equivalent. You have flare-ups every year.’

      Stalled by the arrival of their entrées, Nate waited until they were alone before replying, surprising himself with an admission he didn’t normally disclose to strangers.

      ‘I know. I help fight them.’

      She tilted her head as she scrutinised him, as if memorising every feature and nuance. He’d already achieved that in the office. He might not have her reputed eloquent descriptive powers, but her face was indelibly imprinted on his mind. Again, not intentionally.

      ‘You’re a volunteer firefighter?’

      Her apparent admiration was gratifying, if not truly merited. He shrugged it off. Living in the country meant embracing its culture and values.

      ‘You live in the area—you should do your bit. The training keeps me fit, along with exercising at home.’

      He scooped up an oyster and let it slide down his throat, savouring the spice and tang as he watched Jemma arrange salmon and capers on a cracker, and take a delicate bite. Her glossed lips fascinated him, conjuring up thoughts better left unsaid, and his sudden surge of desire was totally unexpected.

      He knew the myth that oysters were an aphrodisiac, so maybe they’d been the wrong choice.

      Risky selection or not, he ate another before asking, ‘How much writing have you done?’

      It came out more curt than he’d intended—caused by his inability to curb her effect on his mind and body. If he was attracted to a woman his rules were not negotiable. Keep it simple, keep it unemotional and don’t get too involved. Strictly adhering СКАЧАТЬ