Not only did they come back to her but they trapped her into immobility, with her breathing growing ragged and her senses stirring as she stared at him and thought of the feel of his tall body against hers, the delight his hands had wrought on her.
Trapped her staring at him as a sea breeze lifted his dark hair off his forehead and brought her out in goose bumps—was it the breeze or was it part of the effect he was having on her, so she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t tear her eyes away?
Then she noticed he was watching her just as intently and there was a muscle flickering in his jaw that told a tale of its own as his gaze slid down to her legs, barely hidden under the towel.
Tottie came to the rescue. She bunted them both playfully, as if to say—Come on, you two, don’t just stand there!
Harriet had to relax a little and smile. So did Damien.
He also said, ‘I hope my dog has been taking good care of you?’
‘She’s been a very faithful friend these last couple of weeks.’ Harriet squeezed out her hair. ‘I didn’t know you were coming home.’
‘No.’ His dark eyes lingered on her figure and her legs again below the towel. ‘Something came up unexpectedly. You look...well.’
Harriet smoothed the towel. ‘Thanks.’ Her voice was husky and she cleared her throat. ‘So do you.’
A smile appeared fleetingly in his eyes. ‘We sound like a mutual admiration society, a stilted one at that. But anyway, how’s your brother?’
He turned and indicated they walk up to the house.
‘He’s making good progress and I’ve enrolled him as an external student at the Southern Cross University in Lismore.’
‘What subject?’
She grimaced. ‘Sports Psychology. I was hoping to wean him away from that kind of thing but—no go.’
‘Better than nothing—a lot better,’ Damien commented.
‘Yes—ouch.’ Harriet stopped walking as she stepped on a stone in her bare feet.
He stopped immediately. ‘All right?’
‘Yes!’ She stood on one leg and awkwardly tried to examine the sole of her other foot. ‘Oh, it’s nothing, I’ll be fine.’
‘Here.’ And, before she knew what he was about, he’d picked her up and was carrying her towards the studio.
‘You don’t have to do this,’ she protested after a silent, shocked couple of seconds.
‘Too good an opportunity to allow to pass, on the other hand.’
‘Mr Wyatt—’
‘Ms Livingstone?’ he parried. ‘Surely we can go one step further—upstairs?’ he asked as they arrived at the studio.
‘Well, yes, but—’
‘What I mean about one step further is surely we can use each other’s given names now,’ he said as he mounted the stairs and sat her down on the refectory table and examined the sole of her foot.
‘Well, yes,’ Harriet conceded and immediately felt like a broken record.