Nicola Marsh - Australia - Bundles of Joy

Keely groaned and shook her head. ‘I wrote that when I was nineteen. Can’t you leave a girl in peace?’

Emma ignored her and continued. ‘According to this, your perfect man would be over six feet tall, have dark hair, blue eyes, a nice smile, a sense of humour, a professional job, a great body, be adventurous, love jazz, appreciate food—read doughnuts—and be a skilled kisser.’ She paused for a second, exhaled and rolled her eyes. ‘Phew! Not asking for much, are you?’

‘It’s just a dumb list,’ Keely said, remembering the exact day she’d written it.

She’d finally got her life back on track after losing all that weight and collapsing, and the first guy she’d dated, Ray the Rat, had ditched her after three months for a seventeen-year-old. The list had encapsulated every quality that Ray didn’t have at the time and, hence, everything she wanted in a man.

Emma smiled. ‘That’s where you’re wrong. I think this list details quite specifically your perfect man and, if I’m not mistaken, it seems you’ve already found him.’

Heat flooded Keely’s cheeks. Strangely enough, she’d been thinking along similar lines as Emma read the list out. It seemed as if Lachlan met every one of her criteria, though she didn’t know about the adventurous stuff yet, and she couldn’t imagine him pigging out on doughnuts, not with his buffed body. As for his skill in the kissing department, she’d prefer not to go there—not with their near miss still fresh in her mind.

‘I don’t have time for this,’ Keely said, knowing that the more Emma interrogated her about Lachlan, the more she’d want to dissect every look, word and touch from last night. And she didn’t want to do that. He was business, attraction or not.

‘Pity.’ Emma shrugged, slid the checklist back into the scrapbook and placed it on Keely’s desk. ‘To be that clear on what you want in a guy and then turn your back on him when he walks into your life. Seems a shame to me.’

‘Don’t you have work to do?’ Keely picked up the scrapbook and shoved it into her top drawer, hoping that the old adage ‘out of sight, out of mind’ might work in this case.

‘Sure. See you after work at Pilates class?’

Keely nodded and waited till her friend had left the room before staring at the closed top drawer as if it contained a poisonous snake.

‘Perfect man, my butt,’ she muttered, returning her attention to the screen in front of her and wishing Lachlan Brant was anything but.

‘Can I help you, Mr Brant?’

Lachlan managed to maintain eye contact with the voluptuous receptionist of WWW Designs, whose name eluded him, which was no mean feat considering she had enough cleavage on show to tempt a saint.

‘Is Keely free at the moment? I’d like to have a word with her.’

In fact, he wanted to have more than a word with her, but the rest would have to wait. Ever since that almost-kiss last night, his mind had been plagued by images of her—the way she’d looked with her eyes locked on his, how she’d swayed towards him, how she’d sighed softly as she pulled away. Frankly, he’d been able to think of little else, and the only way to gain some peace of mind was to tackle the ‘problem’ head-on.

The woman had got under his skin in one day, a record when it came to a man who played his emotions close to his chest. He never fell for a female that quickly, even one as spectacular as Keely Rhodes. Thankfully, they’d got past that little ‘moment’ after his shift had ended quite quickly, and had moved into an easygoing camaraderie over coffee at the Swing Room, leaving him wondering if he’d imagined her angst.

Either way, he’d put his niggling doubts behind him for now and was eager to see where they went from here.

‘I’ll check if Keely’s free.’ The receptionist punched a few buttons on a console and spoke discreetly into a headset.

She’d better be free, in all senses of the word. The fact that Keely might have a significant other in her life hadn’t crossed his mind and, though she didn’t seem the type to encourage him while involved with another man, one never knew. Look at his mum.

‘Keely will see you in her office now. Would you like one of these?’ The receptionist held up a plate of cinnamon doughnuts that smelled delicious, somehow making the innocuous question sound as if she was offering more.

He’d had his fair share of women throw themselves at him, yet he’d always preferred the more subtle charms of a woman who acted as if she didn’t possess any compared with her overtly voracious counterparts.

However, that didn’t mean he had to be rude. He smiled and took one of the doughnuts. ‘Thanks. Let’s hope it doesn’t go straight to my hips.’

‘Nothing wrong with your hips from where I’m sitting,’ he heard the receptionist mutter before she plastered a professional smile on her expertly made-up face and turned away to answer an incoming call.

Let’s hope the beautiful Miss Rhodes thinks so , he thought as he half demolished the doughnut before knocking on her door.

‘Come in.’

He pushed the door open, wondering how Keely would act after last night. Would she pretend nothing had happened between them or would she make a joke of it? Personally, he hoped she’d had as good a time as he had and would want to repeat the experience.

‘Hope you’re not too busy. Thought I might run a few ideas past you for the website …’ He trailed off at the stunned look on her face. ‘What’s wrong?’

Keely tried not to stare, but the sight of Lachlan eating a cinnamon doughnut, one of the few criteria for the perfect man she’d assumed he wouldn’t possess, floored her.

As if it wasn’t bad enough he had to match every other quality on her checklist!

Pulling herself together, she managed to say, ‘You like doughnuts?’

A sheepish smile spread across his handsome face. ‘It’s a weakness.’ He shrugged, looking like a cheeky schoolboy rather than a renowned psychologist. ‘What can I say?’

You can say something rude or obnoxious again, something designed to push me away .

However, she knew it was useless. Falling for a guy like Lachlan—the perfect man, according to her stupid checklist—seemed inevitable.

So much for being a realist.

When it came to her heart, it was ironic that she could be as gullible as Emma, a true romantic.

‘Do I have sugar covering my lips or something?’

She bit back her first retort of or something; preferably me . ‘Sorry if I appeared distracted. I was in the middle of all this.’

‘And here I was, hoping that I was the distraction.’ He smiled, the simple action illuminating his face. She’d never known a guy to smile like that, his eyes lighting up as if the world was a great place to be. If she was truly delusional, she’d like to think that she had that effect on him.

‘You are.’ The words popped out and his grin broadened. ‘I mean, I was putting the finishing touches on another client’s site, and now I need to switch my thinking to you.’

Lame, even by her standards, and by the amused look on his face he didn’t buy it for a minute.

‘Did you enjoy last night?’

Oh, heck . Was he referring to the radio station, the jazz club or the physical attraction that had zinged between them?

Rather than come up with more pathetic excuses, she decided to keep her answer simple. ‘Yes, I did.’

‘Good. It makes what I have to suggest now all the more appropriate.’

Oh-oh . The only suggestions he could possibly make that sprang to mind were highly inappropriate and she could only wish.

‘Sounds interesting,’ she said, resisting the urge to swing on her chair. Knowing her luck around him, she’d lean back too far and fall off it.