Kelly Hunter - Cracking the Dating Code

‘Where will you be?’

‘Fishing. Swimming. Rock climbing. Something.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Man with an almighty need to conquer something. She knew the type. ‘Ah, Mr Reyne?’

‘Seb.’ He waited until he was out of the door before turning back.

Right. Seb. She wasn’t sure she trusted herself to say his name right now without layering it full of lust. ‘There, ah, don’t seem to be any keys to this place.’

‘Yeah, we lost them.’

‘So how do you lock up?’

‘You don’t.’

‘I what ?’

‘Let me guess,’ he murmured. ‘You live in an inner-city apartment block surrounded by a million people and you know none of them.’

‘You’re very perceptive,’ she countered lightly. ‘I divide my time between Oxford and Sydney. My father’s based in Hong Kong. I’m very fond of Hong Kong. Plenty of people. Locks too. Keys.’ Not that she wanted to labour the point.

‘Relax, city girl. The doors still lock from the inside. Just make sure they’re not set to lock when you shut them in the morning.

Your stuff will be perfectly safe here, I guarantee it. There’s no one else here.’

No one he knew of.

‘What about pirates? Shipwrecked fishermen? Critters? Blackbeard?’

This earned her a grin, free and clear, and her body responded accordingly. ‘If Blackbeard happens by you give me a yell.’

‘You are too kind.’

‘I know. You got any messages for my brother?’

‘You’re calling Tomas tonight?’

Sebastian’s gaze skittered over her face once more and lingered on her lips. ‘Yes.’

‘Any particular reason why?’

‘Courtesy call.’

‘Oh.’ Poppy eyed him uncertainly. ‘Well, tell him I said thank you for the lend of the island.’

‘Anything else?’

Nothing she could think of.

‘Miss you… Wish you were here…’ he prompted silkily.

‘Oh. That kind of message.’ A message from one lovelorn suitor to another. She had no idea what one would say. ‘Yes.’ She paused, struck by Sebastian’s sudden coiled stillness. ‘Tell him I said hello.’

SEB ate his seafood curry hot and took his bedtime shower lukewarm and stinging. Give it a few days, a week at the most, two weeks at the outside and mousy, brainy little Poppy West would be off his island and so would he.

Head for the mainland. Take care of some business. He found the shampoo—squirted it straight from the bottle onto his hair. Maybe he’d touch base with his crew and then go and lose himself in a woman for a while.

A savvy, experienced, blue-eyed blonde who knew how the game was played and wouldn’t expect a damn thing of him other than satisfaction at the time.

Not Poppy West, she of the golden-toffee tresses, cornflower-blue eyes and decidedly enigmatic ways.

Not her.

Seb closed his eyes and scrubbed at his hair, willing his body not to stir, but the more he willed it, the more contrary his body got.

He soaped his chest, took a scratchy sea sponge to his arms.

She’d be pliant in bed; maybe even a little inexperienced.

Deeply, openly responsive.

Seb cursed, a word that had been on his mind all day.

Even if she didn’t have a thing for Tomas, even if Tom had no interest in her, it would be very poor form to mess around with his brother’s business partner.

Tomas, who’d excelled at everything, including being a big brother. Pulled Seb out of the pit when his first girlfriend had dumped him for a blue-blooded golden boy. Talked Seb off an oil platform and into an engineering degree. Encouraged Seb’s idiot idea of putting together some sort of crack rigging crew. Troubleshoot anything that gushed or burned and cap it, bring it back under control—those were the jobs Seb and his crew took on. Proving his worth, over and over, until finally he’d believed in himself and the things he could deliver. Not as clever as Tomas. Not as polished or urbane, but worth something nonetheless.

Until one crucial split-second decision had cost one man his life and another his hearing.

Seb’s crew. Seb’s responsibility.

He wanted a drink.

He wanted his friend back.

And in true self-destructive, must-compete style, he wanted his brother’s girl.

Seb rinsed off, cut the water and walked naked through to his bedroom. He found a towel, then a pair of loose cotton pyjama bottoms.

He headed for the office and did his best to ignore the faint floral scent that hung in the air there. And then he picked up the phone and called Tom.

‘I got your parcel,’ he said when Tom answered. ‘What the hell is she doing here?’ Besides torturing him with her nearness.

‘Working,’ said Tom. ‘At least, that’s the assumption. Why? What is she doing there?’

‘Working,’ said Seb grudgingly. ‘That is not the issue. What I want to know is why you sent her here in the first place. You into her? You setting something up? Like a lightning visit?’

‘What?’ said Tomas.

‘God, you even sound like her,’ muttered Seb. ‘Are. You. Into. Her? It’s not a difficult question. A simple yes or no will do.’

‘What if I am?’ asked Tom warily.

‘Then you’d better come and get her before I forget you exist. Now do you understand?’

His brother swore, loud and long. Smart man, only, ‘I’m not involved with Poppy,’ he said at some point during the tirade. ‘I have no intention of ever getting involved with Poppy,’ he said a short time later, and the stranglehold on Seb’s chest relaxed. ‘But if you think I sent her there for you to get into, you couldn’t be more wrong,’ his brother continued. ‘You want to party, get off the island.’

‘And leave Her Citified Slenderness here by herself? How do you think that’s going to work out? She’s already nervous about staying in the guest house by herself.’

Silence from Tom.

‘Can’t she go and work somewhere else?’ It wasn’t quite a plea for mercy but it was the closest Seb had ever come to one. ‘Because if you want me to stay away from her, she’s going to have to go.’

‘She can’t go,’ said Tom. ‘Trust me on this one. She needs the privacy, the bat cave, and she needs a bit of time. Give her two weeks, Seb. Please. Hell, give her two days. Surely you can manage two days without trying to get her on her back?’

‘Crème caramel,’ murmured Seb. ‘I haven’t had a crème caramel in ages.’

‘Resist.’ Panic in Tom’s voice now, but it was too late. Tom didn’t want her. Seb most certainly did. ‘I mean it, Seb. You treat her like a sister.’

‘We don’t have a sister.’

‘Point taken,’ said Tom. ‘Then, for God’s sake, treat her like my boss.’

Dawn came too early for Poppy, but once the sky began to brighten on the horizon there was nothing else to do but pull the mosquito net aside, turn on her side in the glorious, king-sized bed, find a few pillows to prop beneath her head and give the dawn show the attention it deserved.

Sleep had taken its time coming to her last night. Sunrise took its time too as it stole across the rippling water and then crept across the edge of her bed.

Poppy stretched her hand out to caress it; no bite in the sun’s rays yet, but the dust motes in the air glowed silver and they kept her entertained as vivid dreams of making love with Sebastian had kept her entertained throughout last night.

In her dreams, Poppy hadn’t been standoffish or in need of personal space. She hadn’t been wary of him or of the things he might do.

It hadn’t been awkward. She hadn’t been clueless or desperately out of her depth, the way she had been with others.