The Billionaire's Baby. Nicola MarshЧитать онлайн книгу.
His gaze drifted lower to a funky, bright top whose colour defied logic but blended perfectly with the colour scheme of the place—all bright pinks and blues and golds—to the hint of cleavage which resurrected memories of how she’d felt in his hands, the sounds she’d made the first time he’d touched her…
A short, shrill whistle interrupted his journey down erotic lane, and his gaze snapped up to meet hers—questioning, daring, challenging, as if she’d caught him checking her out and was calling him on it—as she crooked a finger at him and pointed to the steaming espresso on the bar.
‘I told you Cam’s great. Serves the best coffee this side of the Yarra. Mike and I always come here for meetings.’
‘So you said.’
Blane couldn’t thank Dirk enough for letting slip this vital bit of information when he’d arrived in Melbourne a week ago. He’d barely begun his search for her when he’d found her, and, now that he had, he had no intention of letting her slip away.
As for the guys telling him she needed a project manager for renovations on her apartment, it had been a stroke of pure luck.
He’d been hell-bent on barging in here the minute he’d discovered her whereabouts, but once he’d discovered that particular titbit of information, he’d bided his time over the week, knowing she’d be more responsive to him on a professional rather than personal level.
Not that he intended to keep the status quo that way for long.
‘Back in a sec.’
Pushing his chair back, he headed for the bar, deliberately slowing his stride when in fact he felt like sprinting. In all honesty, if she whistled and crooked her finger at him again with that ‘come and get it’ look in her eye, he’d probably do a mean pole-vaulting impression over the bar, too. ‘Here you go. One extra-snappy espresso.’
She pushed the cup towards him, the saucer sliding across the squeaky-clean steel bar.
‘You only made it snappy so you can get rid of me.’
Her wry smile did little to detract from the cheeky gleam in her eyes. ‘Well, looks like you haven’t lost your mind-reading abilities.’
‘I guess not. Care to test me out?’
She shook her head and laughed, the familiar low chuckles sending warmth spiralling through him. ‘Trust me, you don’t want to know what’s going through my head right now.’
‘Says who?’
The laughter died on her glossed lips, the same startling shade as her top, as she inched his coffee towards him with a decisive push of her finger.
‘Drink up. The clock’s ticking.’
Taking a gamble, he ignored the coffee, placed his index fingers against his temples and narrowed his eyes. ‘Let me see…you’re thinking how tired you are after working hard all day. You’re thinking you can’t wait to get out of here.’
She quirked an eyebrow and slow-clapped. ‘Amazing. You should add a bit of crossing-over stuff to your repertoire, too.’
‘I also see some cynical thoughts about me whizzing through your head. You don’t want to hear what I have to say. You don’t want to revisit the past. But maybe you’re too scared to face how good we were together. And how we could have that again, given half a chance.’
Her finger convulsed on the edge of his saucer. ‘Drink up. Then please leave.’
If she pushed the coffee any closer to him it would tip off the bar and splatter on his boots, and, reaching across he stilled her hand, vindicated by the slight tremor under his fingers, the flare of awareness in her eyes.
Cam might act as if she didn’t give a flying fig about him anymore, but he knew better.
He’d seen it when she’d unconsciously leaned towards him a few minutes ago, he saw it now as her tongue darted out to moisten her full bottom lip, the ache to do the same almost visceral.
She’d always done that cute little tongue thing when nervous, like the first time he’d taken her kayaking down Rainbow Creek, the first time she’d tried trail-bike riding, arms clutched around his waist and hanging on for dear life, the first time she’d tried oysters au naturel at his coaxing, the first time they’d made love…
The memories flickered across his mind in crystal-clear clarity, sending a shard of pain stabbing at his gut, filling him with bittersweet regret.
He’d walked away from the best thing to happen to him, and, while he might not have had a choice back then, he sure had one now, and there was no way he’d let her go again.
‘Not till we talk.’
Her chin tilted up in defiance as she snatched her hand out from under his and took a step back to distance herself from him. ‘I suppose you’re really not going to leave me alone till I agree?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Still as stubborn as ever,’ she muttered with a shake of her head.
‘Good to see you remember so many things about me.’
His gaze dropped to the espresso in front of him, extra-strong black, just the way he liked it.
She shrugged, but not before he’d seen an answering gleam as if she remembered plenty.
‘My mind has a habit of storing useless information. Don’t take it personally.’
‘I won’t.’
He grinned, noticing an immediate softening around her mouth. She wanted to smile back, he could tell. They’d always been like this: he trying to charm her, she trying her utmost to pretend it wasn’t working before giving in.
‘How about we have this chat over a death by chocolate next door after you lock up?’
Her eyebrows shot up. ‘You like the Chocolate Toad?’
‘What’s not to like? Great chocolate and a big, happy, green guy looking down on us while we talk.’
He leaned forward and crooked his finger at her, pleased when she met him halfway. ‘You’re not the only one who remembers things, you know. I bet chocolate is still your staple food.’
Camryn couldn’t move.
She wanted to. Oh, yes, she wanted to run away as fast as her boots would carry her, far from this man and the power he had over her.
After all she’d been through, after the pain of losing him, she should turn around right this very minute and walk away without a backward glance.
So why was she standing here, mesmerised by the twinkle in his eyes, captivated by his sense of humour, with the word ‘yes’ hovering on her lips?
‘Come on. A girl deserves a good death by chocolate after a hard day’s work. And I really think it’s important you hear what I have to say.’
He leaned forward until their faces were inches apart, his clean, woodsy smell, as natural and outdoorsy as the rest of him, flooding her senses, tempting her to do crazy things as he had all those years ago. ‘You know you want to.’
‘Yes,’ she breathed on a sigh, caught by his powers of persuasion and something more, something scary and indefinable. A soul-deep attraction to a man who set off sparks by simply tilting his head in acknowledgement had made her lose her mind and accept his invitation when nothing he could say would make up for what he’d done to her six years earlier.
‘Great.’
He straightened, breaking the intimate spell woven around them. ‘In that case I better bolt this coffee down, finish up my business and wait for you to close up.’
Business! She snapped her fingers, wondering how she could have forgotten her proposed meeting with the project manager.
‘Actually,