Australia: Bundles of Joy. Nicola Marsh

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