Australian Escape: Her Hottest Summer Yet / The Heat of the Night. Элли Блейк
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he’d been left completely untethered. Banging about inside the old house like a bird with broken wings.
After his disastrous move to Sydney with its noise, and smog, and crush of people—he’d taken control of his life. Delivering on the promise of his father’s hard work.
He might not have time to connect with the better parts of his old life—with the sun, and the sea, and the big blue—but he felt otherwise fulfilled. Better, he felt redeemed.
And he wasn’t willing to risk that feeling for anything or anyone. No matter how kissable.
* * *
Avery was in such a red-hot haze she couldn’t remember how she made it back to the resort. But soon the white steps were loud beneath her high heels as she made her way into the lobby.
Mere days before she’d been delighting in her ability to say no to the guy, as if it were some kind of sign that with a little R and R under her belt she might have the wherewithal to say the same to her folks one of these days. But no. One touch, one deep dark look, and she’d practically devoured him.
She lifted fingers to lips that felt bruised and tender, knowing that not being able to say no and wanting to say yes were two wholly different things, but it was hard to think straight while she could still feel those big strong arms wrap tight about her, his heart thundering beneath her chest, his mouth on hers.
Suddenly feeling a mite woozy, she slowed, found a column and banged her forehead against the cool faux marble. It felt so good she did it again.
“Avery.”
Avery looked up, rubbing at the spot on her head as she turned to find Luke Hargreaves striding towards her in his lovely suit with his lovely face and that lovely way he had about him that didn’t make her feel as if she were being whipped about inside a tornado.
Her invitation to lunch had been casual. An honest-to-goodness catch-up. Nothing more. As picture-perfect as he appeared she’d struggled to whip up the kind of enthusiasm required to campaign for more. Yet maybe this whole thing had been a sign. That she needed to up her game.
“Luke!” she said, leaning in for an air kiss.
“Don’t you look a million bucks.” He looked her up and down, making her feel...neat. If Jonah had done the same she’d have felt stripped bare. “Don’t tell me today was meant to be our lunch date.”
Yeah, buddy, it was. “Not to worry! I bumped into Jonah.” Argh! “So he sat with me, and we ate. Steak.” Oh, just shut up now.
“Was it any good?”
“I’m sorry?” she squeaked.
“The steak.”
“Oh, the steak was excellent. Tender. Tasty.” Please shoot me now. “If you get the chance to eat there, try it.”
Nodding as if he just might, Luke ran a hand through his hair leaving tracks that settled in attractively dishevelled waves. Even that didn’t have her hankering to run her fingers in their wake. Yet every time she saw a certain head full of tight dark curls it was a physical struggle not to reach out and touch.
“You know what? What are you doing right now?” he asked.
Trying not to make it obvious that my knees aren’t yet fully functional after your friend kissed me senseless. You?
He glanced at his watch, frowned some more. “Miraculously I have nothing on my plate right this second, if you’d like to grab a coffee.”
“No,” she said, rather more sternly than she’d intended. But Avery was a Shaw. And Shaws didn’t know the meaning of giving in. Look at her mother! She softened it with a smile. Then said, “Dinner. Tomorrow night. A proper catch-up.” A proper setting to see if something nice can be forged.
“Perfect.” He smiled. “Catch you then.” It was a perfectly lovely smile. Her blood didn’t come close to rushing; in fact it didn’t give a flying hoot.
Avery made to give him a quick peck on the cheek, but instead found herself patting him chummily on the arm. Then he headed off, always with purpose in his stride that one. Unlike Jonah who, even as he got things done, had this air about him as if he had all the time in the world.
With a sigh Avery didn’t much want to pick apart, she looked up and caught the eye of young Isis behind the reception desk. The girl waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
If only, Avery thought. Even Pollyanna gave a little yawn. By the time Avery slipped back to her room she collapsed on her bed and had the first nap she’d had since she was a kid. All it took to finally find the limit to her exhaustion was making a date with one man while the kiss of another still lingered on her lips.
Jonah sat at the small backstreet pub the tourists always seemed to miss—probably because it wasn’t suffocated by a surfeit of palm trees and Beach Boys music. Self-flagellation being a skill he’d honed during the long months spent in Sydney, he’d invited Luke to join him.
“Thanks for filling in at lunch with Avery today, mate,” Luke said.
And there went Jonah’s hopes for a quiet beer.
Frosty bottle an inch from his mouth, Luke added, “I bumped into her in the lobby after I finally extricated myself from one of Claudia’s presentations. All cardboard signs and permanent markers. She has a dislike for PowerPoint I’ll never understand.” His eyes shifted Jonah’s way. “So how was lunch?”
“They do a good steak,” Jonah rumbled, then chugged a third of his beer in one hit.
“So I heard.”
He and Luke might only see one another once every couple of years these days, but they’d been mates long enough for Jonah to know he’d been made. Dammit.
He held his ground, counting the bottles of spirits lining the shelves behind the bar. Luke shifted on his chair to face Jonah. Until, thumb swishing over the face of his phone, Luke said, “In fact we have dinner plans for tomorrow night. Avery and I.”
Jonah gripped his beer, even as he felt his cheek twitch in a masochistic grin. He tipped his beer in Luke’s direction as he caught his old friend’s gaze. “You’re going, right?”
Luke pushed his phone aside, a huge smile creasing his face. “Any reason I shouldn’t?”
“You stood her up once before.”
Luke’s smile fell. “Hardly. She’d told me she was having lunch at the Punch if I was around.”
“Luke. Man. Come on. She thought it was a date.”
“I don’t think so, mate. You’ve got your wires crossed somewhere.”
When had his old mate morphed from his wingman into this blinkered, workaholic monkey with a phone permanently attached to his palm? In fairness, it was probably about the time his ex-wife took his heart out with a fork.
Luke watched him a few long seconds before slowly leaning back in the leather chair. “Should be a fun night, though. Those legs. That smile. And that accent? It just kills me.”
Jonah tried to sit still, remain calm, and yet he could feel the steam pouring from his ears. Luke clearly noticed, as suddenly he laughed as if he’d never seen anything so funny.
With a tip of his beer bottle towards Jonah, Luke said, “So, you and Miss Manhattan, eh?”
“There is no me and Miss Manhattan.”
Luke grinned like a shark as he parroted back, “Jonah. Man. Come on.”
Jonah settled his hands around his beer and stared hard into the bubbles. “I’m right there with you on the legs. And the smile. And the accent.” And the eyes. He’d had dreams about those eyes, locked onto his, turning dark with pleasure