The Complete Red-Hot Collection. Kelly Hunter

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СКАЧАТЬ pause. But not uncomfortable.

      And then the question just came out of Scott’s mouth, as though it was just…time. ‘So, have you seen her?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Do you want to?’

      Long pause. ‘Eight years,’ Brodie said.

      And somehow Scott understood the world in those two words. ‘Okay, enough said. But just so you know—it wouldn’t bother me. Not any more.’

      Brodie jerked his head backwards towards the cafe counter. ‘Because of Red?’

      Brodie looked over Scott’s shoulder, saw Kate coming towards them with a coffee-laden tray. That rolling walk. So damned sexy.

      He blinked. Swallowed a sigh. Shook his head. ‘That’s just an…arrangement.’

      Kate arrived, distributed the coffee. Sat down. ‘So, how’s the luxury yacht touring business?’ she asked Brodie. ‘In Queensland, right?’

      ‘I should warn you,’ Scott broke in. ‘Kate’s main goal in life is to steal a boat and sail off on an adventure—except she can’t sail.’ He smiled at Kate, expecting her to share the joke. But she merely looked steadily back at him.

      Brodie was smiling at her too, and she did smile at him—and Scott found himself gritting his teeth. A contract. Just a contract—and this is why.

      ‘Well, Kate, I’m down for a couple of weeks,’ Brodie said. ‘I’ll take you sailing. Unless…?’ He glanced at Scott. ‘Are you going to teach her?’

      Scott shook his head quickly. ‘I sold my boat.’ He looked at Kate; she was still smiling at Brodie. Just a contract. ‘She’s all yours.’

      He caught—just—an infinitesimal flinch, the blink of hurt on Kate’s face, and wanted to call the words back. But it was too late. Her smile went megawatt—straight at Brodie. And Scott wanted to claim that wide, gorgeous mouth of hers right there and then, in front of Brodie and everyone else in the vicinity. Screw the no-kissing rule.

      ‘If you’re still here next Saturday, Brodie, I’ll take you up on that,’ Kate said, and then she was tossing back her macchiato—and that had to burn her damned tongue. Not that you could tell from the next blinding smile she beamed at Brodie!

      Brodie and Kate discussed timing, swapped numbers, while Scott sat there like a statue—ice on the outside, volcano on the inside.

      And then Kate put some money on the table and Scott had to grit his teeth again. Because—come on!—couldn’t he even buy her a damned cup of coffee?

       The contract. Fifty-fifty. No, you can’t buy her a damned coffee.

      ‘Work calls,’ she said, all cheery and unconcerned. ‘Bye, guys. See you Saturday, Brodie.’

       Gone.

      Brodie looked at Scott, who had yet to take a sip from his fresh cup.

      ‘Are you insane?’ Brodie asked conversationally.

      Scott laughed, and if it had a slight edge of insanity he wasn’t going to acknowledge it. ‘Tell me about your business,’ he said instead.

      When Kate got back to her apartment she was so furious—and disillusioned, and…and hurt, she couldn’t think straight.

      God, she hoped Scott hadn’t seen the hurt.

      Not that Scott, who didn’t get hurt, would ever understand it. He’d just think she was piqued. The way he had last night just because she’d finally taken a stand and told him not to turn up today.

      Well, that had sure worked!

      And she really must be a pathetic nymphomaniac. Because she’d been so glad to see him when she should have been annoyed. So very glad…right up until he’d told her he hadn’t signed up for deep and meaningful.

      Nobody signed up for deep and meaningful. It just…happened.

      But not, apparently, to Scott.

      Well, what had she expected? That two weeks of rock-your-hormones sex would somehow make her special? That the guy she was sleeping with might want to teach her to sail rather than palming her off on someone else? That he might actually introduce her to his friends so she didn’t have to introduce herself, when she didn’t have the remotest idea how to categorise their relationship for public consumption? That he might, somehow, claim her as someone just a little bit special?

      The way she wanted to—

       Ooohhhh.

      She shuddered out a breath as reality hit her like a truck. She wanted to claim him. Mine, mine, mine.

      Great! Just freaking great. Because Scott had made it pretty clear this morning that he was reading from a different script—and it wasn’t a romance. To Scott she was a collection of body parts, transferable to his friend for any non-bedroom stuff!

       She’s all yours!

      Well, quid pro quo. There was a legal term for Scott to mull over.

      If she was nothing but a collection of body parts to him then he would be nothing but a collection of body parts to her.

      Scott Knight: Kate Cleary’s stud.

      No more kissing. No dates that weren’t really dates. No unscheduled drop-ins. No fireside chats. Nothing except sex. Only twice a week, because she was no longer in a negotiating mood. Starting with a Play Time that would fry his nether regions!

      Before she could think twice she grabbed her phone, pulled up Scott’s number and got texting.

      Play Time. Tuesday. 9 p.m. Ellington Lane.

      That would shock him. He’d be sitting there with Brodie, never dreaming she’d text him so soon after that dismal coffee catch-up. He probably expected her to be lying face-down on her bed, crying into her pillow because she was piqued. Well, he could just—

       Ding.

      Text message. She grabbed her phone. Opened Scott’s text message.

      Roger that.

      With a smiley face.

      A…a smiley face?

      Now, you see—that was why he wasn’t the right man for her.

       Or maybe why he is.

      ‘Yes, thank you, subconscious. Not helpful.’

      Scott was champing at the bit as he approached Ellington Lane on Tuesday night.

      He had no idea what fantasy Kate had dreamt up to carry out in this dingy, narrow, deserted laneway, СКАЧАТЬ