Australia: Bundles of Joy: Impossibly Pregnant / Top-Notch Surgeon, Pregnant Nurse / Caring For His Babies

CHAPTER THREE

‘Where men are concerned, always adhere to the “try before you buy” policy.’

Lucy, personal assistant extraordinaire.

LACHLAN gave the console a quick once-over to make sure he was off the air, removed his headphones and waved Keely into the booth.

He’d just spent the last three hours watching her through the glass partition, thoroughly distracted and, though he’d managed to present a professional front over the airwaves, he’d had enough. It was time to switch off and relax in the company of a woman who sparked his interest on many levels.

He’d thought by bringing her here to the station she might come clean about her call to him. However, despite ample opportunity, she hadn’t confessed and it surprised him. He valued honesty above all else, thanks to his lying, cheating mother, who had left his father with a broken heart after leaching every last ounce of devotion out of him. And he’d vowed to never end up like his dad, a sad old man obsessed with the one woman he couldn’t have, pining away for that so-called love of a lifetime.

Though the call hadn’t been a big deal in itself, he wondered why Keely would keep it a secret, especially after the way they’d clicked.

Standing up and stretching, he knew one thing. He wanted to give this woman a chance. Apart from the sizzling attraction that arced between them whenever they got within two feet of each other, he genuinely liked her and would like to get to know her better.

Starting now.

Opening the door to the sound booth, he beckoned her in. ‘What do you think? Pick up any ideas for my website?’

He watched her walk across the outer room; she was wearing a classy, understated outfit that looked as if it had been made for her. She moved with an elegance that turned heads, a quiet confidence that would make any man sit up and take notice. And he’d done that the minute he’d first laid eyes on her, strolling towards him in the foyer of WWW Designs.

Usually, he liked to ponder important decisions, but after his first glimpse of Keely he’d been ready to sign on the dotted line with the company as long as she was involved in some part of his website’s production. It must’ve been his lucky day, for not only would she play a role in the production, she was one of the main players working with him directly.

She smiled, drawing his attention to her lips, resurrecting barely suppressed thoughts of how they’d almost connected with his earlier that evening. He hadn’t meant to take things so far so fast, but had been powerless to resist her allure.

‘I’ve looked around, spoken to a few of your coworkers and jotted down some ideas.’ She picked up a pad from a nearby table and presented it to him like a proud student handing in a prized project. ‘See? Enough here to keep me going for a while. Great idea to invite me to your workplace.’

He barely glanced at the pad, more interested in her non-verbal cues. Another part of his job that he couldn’t turn off—he read people’s unspoken actions all the time, believing they revealed a lot more about the person than first met the eye.

In this case, Keely appeared nervous as she shifted her weight from one foot to another while tapping her fingers on the back of the pad. Were her nerves a result of her little secret about heckling him or caused by something deeper? Was it just him or did all men make her this jittery?

So much for getting to know her better. It would prove extremely difficult if she reacted like a skittish filly every time he got near her.

‘Glad it helped. Shall we get that coffee now?’

‘Sure.’ She practically bolted away from him, grabbing her bag and shoving the pad inside it before heading to the door.

‘Would you like to have dinner too?’ He usually didn’t eat after a show, preferring to grab a light supper while planning the next day’s schedule. However, the thought of staring at Keely over candlelight at his favourite seafood restaurant stimulated his appetite in more ways than one.

‘I’m not hungry.’ She spoke too quickly, as if the thought of sharing a meal with him was the last thing she’d want.

‘Let me guess. You’re on a diet.’ His gaze slid over her curves as he smiled, knowing that couldn’t be true. She had a stunning body, and women who looked like her knew it too.

To his amazement, she took a step back and raised her bag over her chest, as if using it like a shield, the golden flecks in her eyes glowing in what he swore was anger. ‘And let me guess. You think I need to be on one.’

For a psychologist, he could be pretty dumb at times. Though he’d expected to make light of his dinner invitation when she’d refused it, perhaps he hadn’t gone about it the best way. Many women were touchy about their weight, and though Keely had no reason to be he’d obviously hit a nerve.

He held his hands up in a friendly gesture of surrender. ‘Hey, I didn’t say that.’

Her eyes sparked, shooting daggers. ‘Not in so many words. Though your meaning was pretty clear.’

He resisted the urge to shake his head. A minute ago he’d been wondering if it was her endearing clumsiness, her strange nervousness, her beauty or a combination of all three that had him hooked. Now, he knew he needed to re-evaluate his interest in the stunning brunette.

Looks were one thing, irrational behaviour another. And, no matter how much he’d like to get to know her better, if she showed this much paranoia over a simple comment now, there was no telling how she’d act later. He’d been burned by a woman like that in the past—his mother, the queen of inconsistency—and he’d be damned if he’d tread down that path again.

‘How about we stick to our original plan for coffee and forget I ever said anything about dinner? Deal?’

To his relief, her shoulders sagged and she lowered the bag, giving him a shaky smile. ‘Deal. My shout.’

And, as he followed Keely out, Lachlan knew that despite his wariness at her peculiar outburst he still had every intention of discovering what made his beautiful website designer tick.

Keely sipped at her Irish coffee, thankful for the shot of alcohol swirled through the caffeine hit. Anything to calm her nerves, which had seemed to be working overtime since the minute she’d laid eyes on Lachlan this evening. First she’d practically invited his kiss at her apartment, and then she’d made a prize fool of herself by exploding over his diet comment at the station. And, though he’d done his best to put her at ease, she knew it would be hard recovering from two faux pas like that in one night.

Even now, the harder she tried to act nonchalant, as if that almost-kiss back at her apartment hadn’t happened, the more wound up she got. At least she hadn’t dropped anything, stumbled or tripped over in the last few hours. Though he found it amusing the way she reacted around him, it embarrassed her more than she let on.

‘Okay, let me have it.’

‘Pardon?’ Startled out of her reverie, she looked up at him and wondered how she could survive the next hour.

When he’d mentioned coffee to mull over his file, he’d omitted the part about bringing her to Melbourne’s hottest new jazz club. Located not far from her office in Southbank, and sprawled over half a block, the Swing Room offered its patrons everything from soulful crooning in several lounges to intimate tables for two in a quieter area reserved for late-night sojourns.

It would’ve been hard enough pretending this meeting was business at an average, run-of-the-mill café. Here, with the faint sounds of a master saxophonist filtering through the speakers, the dimly lit room just barely illuminated by candles strategically placed on the tables and the rich aroma of speciality coffees lingering in the air, Keely had no hope.

The atmosphere reeked of intimacy, and the man sitting on her right with his knee occasionally brushing hers wasn’t helping matters.

He made casual conversation as if they were old friends, putting her at ease with his witty anecdotes about the radio business. However, the more she focused on what he was saying, the more she noticed his lips, which led her thoughts down a completely different path altogether …

‘Let me see what you’ve done so far.’

Hoping that he wouldn’t see through her, and notice that her notes had been compiled in under half an hour at the office, she took out his file from her bag and laid it on the table.

‘This is only the early stages, where I tend to brainstorm, so it probably looks a bit of a mess.’

Understatement of the year. She’d covered a single sheet of paper with over a dozen Post-It notes, jotting down the few ideas that had sprung to mind when she’d finally managed to concentrate on the task at hand.

‘And don’t forget that I’ve gained a whole lot more info from being at the station tonight, so I’ll try to incorporate a few more ideas into the basic plan tomorrow.’

Unfortunately, some of the info she’d learned earlier at the station hadn’t been all good. She’d let her attraction for the man cloud her judgement; yet with his inadvertent swipe at her weight he’d reminded her in no uncertain terms that he was just like the rest of the male population: obsessed by superficialities like a woman’s body shape rather than considering the heart on the inside. She’d copped more than her fair share of fat jokes and snide remarks over the years and, though they’d hurt at the time, none had surprised her as much as Lachlan’s dig. She’d expected more from a man like him, which just went to show that he wasn’t so perfect after all. Once again, her judgement when it came to the male species was way off and she’d do a darn sight better remembering it. Besides, Lachlan Brant was business and she had no right to even contemplate acting on the attraction that sparked between them.

She resisted the urge to nibble on a fingernail as he perused the file, his face unreadable.

‘Uh-huh,’ were the only two syllables he uttered as he screwed up his eyes, obviously trying to make sense of her tiny scrawling on the notes.

Just when she was ready to grab her notes and flee, he looked up and smiled. ‘I like what you’ve done so far. Creative, interesting, effective.’

He handed her the file and she wanted to hug him. Her work was her pride and joy and she lapped up praise. Raquel wasn’t huge on giving her employees any pats on the back. Not that it usually mattered; Keely’s work spoke for itself and her clients were quick to show their appreciation for her efforts.

‘If this is what you can do in one day, I can’t wait to see the finished product.’ He sat back and draped an arm across the back of the chair, his hand resting merely inches from her neck.

The simple action drew her attention to the way the cotton of his T-shirt stretched across his chest, defining a host of muscles just begging to be touched.

She swallowed, desperate for the slightest amount of moisture to wet her throat, which had gone dry the second her mind associated ‘muscles’ and ‘touching’ in the same sentence.

‘With your input, I’m sure I can come up with something that is suitable,’ she said, trying to ignore the fact that if she leant back a fraction his fingers would brush the nape of her neck.

‘Sounds good. Now that the business part of this evening is settled, let’s have some fun.’

Oh, no. The word ‘fun’ had the same devastating effect on her psyche as ‘muscles’ and ‘touching’.

‘Fun?’ she managed to say, though it came out more a squeak than a word.

‘You don’t mind if we spend a little longer here, just chilling out? I’ve had a rough week and wouldn’t mind unwinding with good music, great coffee and even better company.’ He leaned closer a fraction, his eyes beseeching her to agree, while a faint waft of his aftershave washed over her, shattering the last of any lingering doubts.

As if she needed any convincing.

‘I’d like that.’

Like it? She’d love it. Spending time with a guy like Lachlan would be amazing, and so much more inviting than curling up in bed with her usual thriller, alone and scared half to death. Though she read scary novels by choice, she still hadn’t conquered her fear whenever she heard a noise while doing so.

‘Good, that’s settled. Would you like another drink?’

‘A latte would be fine, thanks.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘You sure? All that caffeine is guaranteed to keep you up all night.’

She shrugged. ‘I’m a poor sleeper anyway.’ Painful memories could do that to a person, as much as she tried to block them out.

‘That’s too bad. Maybe you haven’t tried the right nightcap?’

‘I’ve tried them all. Hot milk, camomile tea, valerian, counting sheep, listening to ocean sounds and heartbeat lullabies. Nothing works.’ She refrained from adding that the only time she did manage to get a decent night’s sleep was when she’d been involved in a relationship and had the comforting warmth of a male body next to her.

‘I might have just the thing for you.’

Oh, I certainly hope so, a naughty voice inside her head whispered, and she deliberately ignored it. ‘What’s that?’

He leaned closer and lowered his voice, a secretive smile playing about his lips. ‘I’m not sure if you’d be up for it.’

The effect of his smile was instant, her pulse picking up tempo and keeping rhythm with her pounding heart. ‘Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?’

His smile broadened to a grin. ‘It involves you lying down, me being next to you and opening your mind to a host of possibilities.’

Oh, boy. She gulped, desperately wishing for something fabulously witty to say. Instead, her mind was a complete blank, apart from the erotic images that filtered across it like a classic movie on constant re-run.

‘I’m talking about hypnotherapy,’ he said, his soft chuckle making her want to hit him.

‘I knew that.’

‘Really?’ He captured her hand in his before she knew what was happening. ‘It looks to me like you had something more … interesting in mind.’

She struggled to concentrate on the simple task of speaking while his thumb gently brushed the back of her hand and created havoc in the process.

‘I’m not that easy to read.’

‘Oh, no?’

The warmth of his hand, combined with the excited glint in his eyes, ignited a fire deep in her belly that spread like quicksilver through her body.

In one short day this man had elicited responses within her that she’d never experienced and never dreamed of having. A confirmed realist, she knew that the whole ‘settle down with a nice steady boy, get married, have kids and live in the burbs’ fantasy wasn’t for her. How could it be, when she couldn’t provide one of the vital ingredients in that happily-ever-after scenario?

Right now, she had a career to build, a promotion to gain and a whirlwind social life. Did she have room in her life for a man, a relationship and the possible implications?

He might enjoy a light-hearted affair, but what if he hoped for permanence? She’d have to walk away at the end, resulting in devastation yet again. Despite what they initially said, most men wanted children—part of their quest to prove something to the world—and she couldn’t provide that.

She’d learned the hard way—Jon, the only man she’d fallen for enough to contemplate a future with, had run a million miles when she’d had the courage to tell him the truth. She’d been expecting an engagement ring; she’d ended up with more pain than it was worth.

If there was one thing she’d learned—through her overweight, low self-esteem teenage years, the gruelling hours of counselling, the dramatic weight loss and subsequent collapse—it was to protect her heart. Having it bruised, trampled and shattered did nothing for her ego, not to mention her health.

No, this time she’d be more careful.

If Lachlan Brant wanted to flirt with her, fine.

If he wanted to charm her, hold her hand and prescribe the occasional kiss, fine.

If he wanted anything else … Lord help her!

CHAPTER FOUR

‘A man will halt your climb up the corporate ladder quicker than his exit at the first hint of the L word.’

Raquel Wilson, all-round cynic and closet man-hater.

‘WHAT’S Keely’s Collection doing out of mothballs?’ Emma picked up the scrapbook from Keely’s desk and started flipping through it.

‘Lucy asked me to bring it in. We’re working on a quiz format for Flirt, and she asked if I kept any of that stuff.’ Keely didn’t look up from her PC screen, eager to put the finishing touches to the athletic company’s web page before shifting her attention to her latest, and most distracting, client.

‘This is amazing. I can’t believe you call this a scrapbook. It should be a girl’s handbook on surviving the dating scene.’ Emma continued to flick pages. ‘You’ve collected quotes and quizzes like most people collect stamps or postcards.’

Keely didn’t look up, her concentration not wavering. Pity she couldn’t do the same when it came to the Brant account. ‘It’s a hobby.’

Suddenly Emma let out a squeal. ‘Oh, my God, you’ve even got stuff I’ve said about guys written in here.’

‘Nobody’s safe,’ Keely muttered. ‘Now, shut up and let me finish this.’

Emma peered over Keely’s shoulder. ‘Why are you hell-bent on finishing this today anyway? I thought it wasn’t due till next week? I’m nowhere near completion with the animation yet.’

‘Too much work,’ Keely said, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she typed the last subtitles on to the site.

‘Looks good,’ Emma said. ‘Though you being in such a hurry to finish this wouldn’t have anything to do with a spunky new client, would it?’

‘Don’t be silly. I give all my clients equal billing.’

‘Is that why you went to the Swing Room with Lachlan Brant last night? Intending to add some musical accompaniment to his website, huh?’

To her annoyance, Keely felt heat creep into her cheeks. ‘How did you know?’

‘A certain young woman whose lips are as loose as her morals told me.’

‘Chrystal was there?’

Oh, great. Now the whole office would know about her and Lachlan and would want to know details.

‘The hottest new spot in town, according to our resident man-eater.’ Emma perched on the edge of her desk. ‘So, how was it?’

‘It was just part of this whole stupid assignment business,’ Keely said, trying not to remember the way Lachlan had stared at her during the latter part of the evening, the look in his eyes spelling danger for her peace of mind.

‘Sure thing. In that case, you won’t be interested in this.’ Emma waved a piece of paper under her nose.

‘What’s that?’ Keely tried to snatch it out of her hand and Emma raised it higher.

‘Mmm … let me see. It’s titled “My Perfect Man” and it fell out of your scrapbook.’

‘Give me that!’

‘Uh-uh, not so fast.’ Emma leaped off the desk, held the paper at arm’s length and started reading. ‘Looks like a checklist. I wonder how many criteria the wonderful Mr Brant fits.’

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.