Margaret Way - Dreaming Of You - Bachelor Dad on Her Doorstep / Outback Bachelor / The Hometown Hero Returns

‘Yes.’

‘I came across a piece similar to this a couple of years back.’ She forced herself upright. If she’d known then that Connor had made it she’d have moved heaven and earth to buy it.

‘I went into that shop in my lunch hour every day for a week just to look at it.’

His face lost some of its hardness. ‘Did you buy it?’

‘No.’ It had been beyond her budget. ‘I couldn’t justify the expense at the time.’

She sensed his disappointment, though she couldn’t say how—the set of his shoulders or his lips, perhaps?

‘Mind you,’ she started conversationally, ‘it did take a whole week of lecturing myself to be sensible…and if it had been that gorgeous bookcase—’ she motioned across to the next piece ‘—I’d have been lost…and horrendously in debt. Which is why I’m going to back away from it now, nice and slow.’

Finally he smiled back at her.

‘My things!’ She suddenly remembered why they were here. ‘I’ll just grab them and get out of your hair.’

He didn’t urge her to take her time. He didn’t offer to show her any of the other marvels lined up in the garage. She told herself she was a fool for hoping that he would.

CHAPTER EIGHT

WHEN Jaz opened the door to him on Saturday evening, Connor’s jaw nearly hit the ground. She stood there in a floor-length purple dress and he swore he’d never seen anything more perfect in his life. The dress draped the lines of her body in Grecian style folds to fasten between her breasts with a diamanté brooch. It oozed elegance and sex appeal. It suited the confident, capable businesswoman she’d become.

Ha! No, it didn’t. Not in this lifetime. That dress did not scream professional businesswoman. The material flowed and ran over her body in a way that had his hands itching and his skin growing too tight for the rest of his body. It definitely wasn’t businesslike. What he wanted to do to Jaz in that dress definitely wasn’t businesslike.

He had to remind himself that the only kind of relationship Jaz wanted with him these days was businesslike.

He had to remind himself that that was what he wanted too.

‘Hi, Connor.’

Gwen waved to him from the end of the hallway. It made him realise that he and Jaz hadn’t spoken a word to each other yet. He took in Jaz’s heightened colour, noted how her eyes glittered with an awareness that matched his own, and desire fire-balled in his groin. If they were alone, he’d back her up against a wall, mould each one of her delectable curves to the angles of his body and slake his hunger in the wet shine of her lips.

No, he wouldn’t!

Bloody hell. Get a grip, man. This is a business arrangement . He tried to spell out the word in his head—B-U-S… It was a sort of business arrangement, he amended. He wanted to help Jaz the way she’d helped him. He wanted to prove to her that Clara Falls was more than Mr Sears and his pointed conservatism. He wanted her to see the good here— the way Frieda had. Instinct told him Jaz needed to do at least that much. If she wanted to leave at the end of twelve months after that, then all power to her.

He glanced down into her face and tried to harden himself against the soft promise of her lips…and the lush promise of her body.

Gwen strode down the hallway. ‘Are you okay, Connor?’

He realised he still hadn’t uttered a word. ‘Uh…’ He cleared his throat, ran a finger around the inside collar of his dress shirt. ‘These things cut a man’s windpipe in two. I feel as trussed up as a Sunday roast.’

‘You look damn fine in it, though.’

‘You’re looking pretty stunning yourself,’ manners made him shoot back at her. In truth, with Jaz in the same room he barely saw Gwen. He had a vague impression of red and that was about it.

Jaz folded her arms and glared at him. Man, what had he done now? He turned back to Gwen. ‘Who’s your date tonight, then?’

Gwen shook her head. ‘I’m going stag this year. I don’t want to be shackled to any man. Not when there’ll be so many eligible males to choose from this evening.’

Fair enough. ‘Need a lift?’

‘No, thank you. I mean to be fashionably late.’

‘Do you expect me to be shackled to you all evening?’ Jaz demanded.

He stiffened. Yes, dammit!

He rolled his shoulders. No, dammit.

So much for relaxation. ‘We arrive together. We leave together. We eat together. First dance and last dance.’ He rattled each item off. They were non-negotiable as far as he was concerned. ‘Fair enough?’ he barked at her. They’d settle this before they left.

She didn’t bat an eye. ‘Fair enough,’ she agreed.

The pulse at the base of his throat started to slow. He found he could breathe again. He meant to negotiate more than two dances out of her, come hell or high water. He meant to hold her in his arms, enjoy the feel of her, safe in the knowledge that nothing could happen in such a public place.

He turned to find Gwen staring at him with narrowed eyes. He gulped. ‘I…er…want her to schmooze,’ he tried to explain.

‘I just bet you do,’ she returned with evil knowingness.

‘I…’ He couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.

Jaz jumped in. ‘Did you know that Connor is planning to challenge Gordon Sears for the town councillor position at the next election?’

Gwen’s jaw dropped. ‘Are you serious? But you’re not some power-hungry nob.’

‘No, he’s not.’ Satisfaction threaded through Jaz’s voice. ‘Which should make him the perfect candidate, don’t you think?’

He stood a little straighter at her praise, pushed his shoulders back.

‘It at least makes him better than Gordon Sears, but enough of that.’ Gwen dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand. ‘Make Jaz’s day and tell her the move is complete.’

‘It’s all done.’ His men had moved Jaz’s things out of his garage and into her flat today. He hadn’t helped move those things. Whenever he’d driven into the garage, walked through the garage, walked past the garage, and saw her things there, he’d had an insane urge to go through them to try and discover a clue as to how she’d spent the last eight years. He hadn’t. He wouldn’t. But he’d put himself out of temptation’s way today and had taken Mel for a hot chocolate and another skyway ride instead. ‘You can move in and start unpacking as early as tomorrow if you want.’

When he’d driven the van into the garage this afternoon and found all her things gone, it had left a hole inside him as big as the Jamison Valley. Why?

Because you’re an idiot, that’s why. Because you still want her .

He ground his teeth together. He’d made a lot of mistakes in the last eight years, but he wasn’t making that one. Not again. He would not kiss Jaz. He would not make love to Jaz. He would not get involved with Jaz.

Never again.

He had to think of Mel. His daughter already adored Jaz more than he thought wise. He didn’t want Mel thinking of Jaz as anything other than a friend.

It would be hard enough for Mel to cope with Jaz leaving in twelve months’ time, let alone…

He ran a finger around the inside of his collar again. Let alone anything more. End of story.

‘I’ll move into the flat on Monday,’ he heard Jaz tell Gwen. ‘I’m hoping business will be brisk in the bookshop tomorrow.’

She was working tomorrow? They’d better not make it a late night then. His jaw tightened. Not that he’d intended on making it a late night.

He tried to get his brain onto business and away from the personal. ‘How are the new staff members working out?’ She’d spent the last four days training staff the recruitment agency in Katoomba had sent her.