Forget the office? Take a break? She’d barely done an hour’s work. Forgetting the boss wasn’t going to happen and fish and chips at nine-thirty on a weekday?
Was this happy-looking, suddenly smiling man the same man Pam said was all work and no play? There had to be a catch.
‘O-k-ay.’ She smiled back, blinded by that knee-weakening crease. It really should be registered as a deadly weapon.
One block back from the esplanade and a few moments’ walk brought them to a row of shops. They passed a bakery and its rich scent of coffee and fresh bread. Sophie slowed her steps, all but drooling at the window selection, but then Jared laid a casual hand on her shoulder.
She jumped at the startling contact as he steered her past the shop with barely there persuasion. It seemed an easy relaxed gesture, except that she was super aware of the slight pressure of his fingers on her collarbone, like a low-grade current tickling her flesh. Aware also of the sun-warmed fragrances of clean cotton and masculine skin surrounding her.
As if he knew she’d been about to forgo chips in ten minutes in favour of a sticky bun right now, he dipped his head and said, ‘It’ll be worth the wait.’ His voice was lazy and layered with all the richness of the Black Forest gateau she’d just salivated over.
‘Is that a promise?’ She heard her own voice echo that same tone and her suddenly dry tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth. Her heart rate accelerated as she turned and looked up at him. They were talking food, weren’t they?
His expression revealed nothing…but had his eyes gone darker? ‘You can tell me afterwards.’
‘Right.’ His eyes were darker. And up close she noticed the distinctive olive green was ringed with a fine rim of navy. She also noticed they’d stopped walking. He was still touching her and her flesh was still tingling.
She hitched her bag higher so that his hand slid away, and resumed walking, but he was close enough so that their arms bumped, a too-delicious friction of firm flesh, crisp shirt and masculine hair.
A moment later he slowed again, this time outside a bright shop called The Baby Tree with teddies spilling out of prams and the cutest little baby outfits suspended from colourful chains. ‘Come on. Help me choose something for my new niece. Thirty seconds. What do you think—a teddy or that fluffy red kangaroo?’
For one trembly moment of indecision Sophie stared at the pretty window and the pair of tiny overalls covered in roses with a matching sunhat. The rainbow selection of lace booties. And yearned.
Then the familiar chill that accompanied such visions swirled through her heart and she shivered in the balmy air. She hadn’t set foot in a baby shop since— In a long time.
‘I’m not really a baby person.’ She spun away from the window and gazed at the shop across the street, but didn’t see it. ‘Don’t let me stop you, though.’ Without looking at him, she dredged up a smile from somewhere and pasted it on her lips, while groping in her bag for her sunglasses. Hoping she looked more careless and indifferent than she felt, she waved in the direction they’d been heading. ‘I’ll go ahead and order.’
She slid on the glasses, turned and walked. One foot in front of the other. Her smile dropped from her lips and she was conscious of the residual sweaty palms and heavy heartbeat. Of all the shops he could have chosen, he’d stopped at The Baby Tree.
It had caught her off guard. With most of her friends down the coast in Newcastle, over the past four years it had been easy to avoid the baby trap. Pam was seriously single and Sophie’s focus was her upcoming overseas trip. Not making babies and playing happy families.
Those things hadn’t worked for her.
She’d be ready next time he pulled that trick. Next time? She coughed out a half-laugh. Hardly. After today she wouldn’t have to see Jared Sanderson again. She kept her eyes peeled for the fish shop, but she hadn’t gone farther than a couple of metres along the footpath when he caught up.
He fell into step beside her. ‘Hey.’
His tone was bland and she couldn’t decide if he was annoyed or concerned. Please, God, anything but concern. She could deal with annoyance, indifference, even anger, but concern… Concern could weaken her resistance, leaving her vulnerable. Again. She refused to allow anyone too close. Giving your love, your trust, yourself to someone else only brought heartbreak. She’d learned that lesson too.
Jared must have caught the vibes; he’d put at least an arm span between them and guilt pierced the self-preservation she normally surrounded herself with. ‘I really don’t mind. She’s your sister… If you want to—’