Page 3 of The Wedding Proposal
He slid into one of the sofa seats, propped his forearms on the table and glowered, the air fairly crackling with his irritation. ‘I’m working in Malta and Simon said I could live on the boat. I’ve been here a week already.’
Elle slid onto one of the vacant seats, shock beginning to recede. She straightened her spine. It was time to take charge of the meeting. ‘I’m in Malta working and volunteering and Simon said I could live on the boat at least until the autumn. It was agreed months ago. I can show you the e-mails—’
‘I believe you,’ he cut in, obviously having taken charge of a few meetings himself. His fingertips tapped on the plastic tabletop. ‘It’s bloody Simon.’
Miserably, she gazed at him. ‘Maybe he made a mistake—’
‘More likely he didn’t. Now I understand the thoughtful pause when I asked if it was possible for me to use the Shady Lady. I just thought he needed reassurance that I didn’t intend to host wild parties, and I told him that I’m relatively sane these days.’ His mouth set in a grim line. ‘But I suppose he was actually wondering whether to tell me that he’d already lent the boat to you, or whether to just let me make this pleasant little discovery for myself.’
Elle recoiled. ‘Why on earth would he let us end up in the boat at the same time?’
Lucas snorted. ‘My guess would be that he thinks it might get us back together. Like that’s going to happen.’
‘Yeah, right,’ she agreed, stonily.
‘You’ll have to find a hotel.’
‘Or you could.’
His eyes glittered. ‘Simon’s my uncle.’
‘Simon’s my friend. You’ve already admitted that he offered me the Shady Lady first.’
He glared. ‘But I’m in situ.’
‘I can’t afford a hotel. I’ve arranged to work part-time on another boat for my keep but I’m going to be spending a lot of time working somewhere else. Unpaid,’ she added. And, in case it made any difference, ‘For charity.’
Lucas folded his arms. He wore a sleeveless T-shirt and a dusting of dark hair outlined the muscles of his arms. ‘What’s Miss Great Job in IT doing volunteering?’
‘Becoming Miss Redundant, House Rented Out to Pay the Mortgage.’
He eyed her. ‘Really?’
Elle bristled. ‘Really.’ She fought hard to keep the blood from rushing to her cheeks. She knew that scepticism in his eyes, the scornful impatience whenever he suspected anything but the unvarnished truth. Seared in her memory was the way he’d once talked her round in circles until she tripped up over all the things she’d kept from him and he’d said things that couldn’t be unsaid and stormed off to his new life in America. She lifted her chin. ‘So, how about you? If you’re here on vineyard business maybe you and Simon can find the funds to move you into a hotel?’
‘Maybe, if I was,’ he snapped. ‘But I’m not working for Simon. It seems you and me are both trying something new this summer. My budget isn’t based on coughing up for accommodation, either.’
‘Then I’ll have to ring Simon,’ she snapped back.
He leaned back, quirking one eyebrow. ‘Good idea. Give Uncle Simon my love.’
* * *
Lucas watched as Elle marched out through the cockpit and ashore. After a few moments she paced out of his view along the concrete quayside, phone clamped to her ear. Then she paced back, her frown a blonde slash across her brows. Both blue-tinted sliding doors were pushed to one side, making it look as if she were changing colour as she moved behind them. Then she became animated and began to speak. Stopped. Paced. Listened. Threw up her hands. Glared at the boat. Clocked him watching; glared more fiercely and moved out of his line of sight.
He waited for her to reappear, noticing absently that his respiration rate had returned to normal and the pressure he’d felt like a band on his forehead was easing. It had been some moment when he’d seen her standing there behind her wall of suitcases, like a beautiful apparition from a disobedient imagination that should have barred heavy doors against Elle Jamieson a long time ago. But hadn’t.
Had he reacted well to her appearance? He reran what he could remember of the conversation. No, he didn’t think he’d been cool, though he usually considered that the past four years had calmed him some, especially since he’d taken up scuba diving. Underwater, everything had to be measured, at least if you wanted to breathe while down there and come up healthy. Dive tables and formulas couldn’t be impetuously ditched.
Lucas had learned too from being around Simon, who usually saw the best in people. Grown. Mellowed.
Until he’d seen Elle again.
Until she’d tried to work her voodoo with her big ice-blue eyes turning to pools of confusion and outrage. Like he hadn’t seen that look before. Like he hadn’t been driven to fury by her innocent act.
While he waited, he went to the galley and got himself a cold beer. Cisk, the produce of the Maltese brewery, was usually one of his pleasures, but today he could scarcely taste it. It was as if his senses had shut down to anything but Elle, her spicy perfume, the storm of blonde hair piled high on her head, her soft voice shocked and defiant by turns. He’d once found that voice so sexy.
OK, he still did.
