Real Men Don't Break Hearts(21)

She sighed as well. “It’s time to pack up anyway. We’re supposed to be gone by five.” The crowds had thinned out, and the other stallholders were already clearing their tables. “It took me two trips to set up this morning, but with so much sold, hopefully I can get the remaining stock back to the store in one go.”

“I can cart your stuff for you. I’m parked right near the entrance.”

“Um, I doubt we’re going to fit much in that fancy sports car of yours. And won’t you worry about getting your nice leather seats scratched?”

“I would if I had any. I’m driving a pickup truck now.”

“And the Maserati?”

“Gone. Sold. Around here it’s an eyesore.”

She couldn’t think of many males who’d willingly trade a sexed-up sports car for a truck, but Nate seemed to be one of them. He apparently didn’t need a sports car to show off his masculinity, she mused before she could stop herself. Her cheeks warmed.

“Oh, good.” She ducked under the table for her boxes.

With Nate’s help it only took a few minutes to pack up her stock. They carted the boxes out to Nate’s truck.

“You’ve got your business name and web address on your truck already,” Ally observed as they deposited the boxes into the back of the vehicle. “You must be serious about it.”

“I don’t do anything by halves. If I decide on something, I give it everything I’ve got.”

She had half suspected Nate might have second thoughts about moving back here, but the bold lettering on his pickup truck brought it home that with Nate there were no grays, just black and white. When he’d wanted to be bad, he’d been the worst. And when he’d decided to be successful, he’d risen to the top of the ladder spectacularly. And now he’d decided to settle back in Burronga.

Was that how he was with women, too? When he decided to pursue a woman, did he always get her? Yes. Even she knew she wouldn’t be able to withstand his charm if he ever chose to wield it on her. A shiver curled down her spine. Nate would always get his girl, and when he tired of her, he’d get rid of her with equal determination.

He hefted the last box in. The ripple of his muscled biceps made her breath hitch. She had an awful urge to stroke his bare arm, to press her mouth against his firm flesh and taste him. The temptation ruffled her senses. Holding her breath, she twisted away. She couldn’t let him see how much his presence affected her, didn’t need to witness his amusement.

“Want to go for a drink at the Red Possum after we’re done here?” Nate rested his elbow against the truck, his smile open and inviting.

Her heart somersaulted. This was the second time he’d asked her out for a drink. The first time, it had been fairly painless to refuse him, but this time was different. This time she wanted to say yes. Why shouldn’t she have a casual drink with Nate? They weren’t adversaries anymore. There was something about this new Nate that made her behave differently. She could say anything to him, things she couldn’t tell her family, and he didn’t appear to judge her. Even when she’d confided her deepest secrets to him, he hadn’t been appalled. He’d supported her, just as he’d tried to support her this afternoon against Paige’s rant. He seemed to like her, and that sent a thrill through every part of her.

Every part except the warning voice in her head that intoned, Nate is off-limits. She might turn to mush at the sight of him, but she wasn’t equipped to deal with a playboy like him. She wasn’t one of his sophisticated, urbane girlfriends who could handle a casual fling without risking her emotions.

“It’s not a trick question, you know,” Nate added as her silence stretched.

“Maybe some other time,” she weakly compromised.

He leaned a little closer. “You don’t strike me as a woman who plays games, so what gives? I’m simply asking you if you want to share a friendly drink.”

“A friendly drink.”

“I’m a very friendly guy.” But Nate’s eyes seemed to be saying something else, warming to liquid caramel as he studied her in a more than friendly way.

“You’re not trying to make a move on me, are you?” she said.

“Would you like me to make a move on you?”

Now she definitely couldn’t mistake the invitation smoldering in his eyes. Nate desired her. Dampness broke out between her shoulder blades, heat slicking over her skin. Well, maybe desire was too strong a word, but the look he gave her was purely carnal and enough to steal her breath away. She brushed her hair from her sticky neck, licked her parched lips.

“Now that does sound like a trick question.” She hooked a foot behind a calf, keeping a tight hold on herself.

“You’re making this more complicated than it has to be.”

Was she? Was it just a case of a few drinks, mutual attraction, and then sex? She pressed her lips together. She was getting too obsessed with the idea of sex when she was around Nate. Sure, he was a handsome, virile specimen of manliness, but that was no reason for her to turn into a drooling idiot.

“Nate, I’m glad we’re not…enemies anymore. I’m even glad you showed up the other night when I was upset and inebriated, but I can’t have a drink with you. Not even a friendly one.” She drew in a breath. “If people saw us, they’d never believe we were just friends, and I don’t need that kind of gossip right now. So, thank you, but no thank you.” It was such a lame excuse. For a moment she thought he’d call her on it, but then the teasing glint faded from his eyes.

“Sure, no hard feelings,” he said, smooth and bland and unreadable. He slapped the side of the truck, all business. “Why don’t I get this stuff over to your store? You riding with me or in your own car?”

“I’ll follow.”

Vague disappointment diluted her relief. Nate didn’t seem too let down by her refusal. He hadn’t tried to change her mind; he’d just let her go. Well, who was she kidding anyway? He wasn’t hard up for female companionship. He didn’t need to pursue her.

As she hurried away from him, an errant thought dogged her. If Nate did decide to pursue her, how much of a struggle would she put up?

…

No hard feelings? Nate might have found that ironically funny if it wasn’t for the stubborn heat throbbing in his veins. He watched Ally hustle down the pavement, his attention glued to the snug fit of her denim jeans around her sweet curves. Even in her workday clothes with her hair all over the place she had him riveted. He couldn’t remember when last a woman had invaded his thoughts so much. Just as he couldn’t remember when last a woman had turned down an invitation from him.

Scowling, he got into the truck and started the engine. Why had Ally turned him down? Again? And all he’d had in mind was a friendly drink.

Yeah, right. Sure, he wanted to chat with her, but a large portion of his mind was also taken up with imagining what might happen if things between them got even friendlier. What she would feel like folded into his arms. What she would taste like if he kissed her. What she would do if he slid his hands under her shirt as he’d fantasized about several times already. He needed to stop daydreaming about Ally. Her standoffishness was only fueling his obsession. He’d never let any woman take over his brain the way she had.

Although her body language had contradicted the refusal coming out of her lips. She couldn’t hide the telltale signs that the chemistry burned just as bright in her—the dilated pupils, the hitched breathing, the foot curled around her leg. No denying it; Ally was feeling the same powerful urges he was.

He punched on the radio, and as a rock song came thumping out, his fingers started drumming on the steering wheel. To hell with being sensible and cautious around Ally. He’d been telling himself to steer clear of her for days now, and he was sick of his own advice. Deep down, he was still a rebel at heart, and he wasn’t ready to shut out all his primitive instincts. He wanted Ally, and he didn’t care if it was a bad idea. The next time he saw her, if she continued giving off the same sexual vibes, he was going to react to them.

A grin tugged at his lips as he stretched out in the driver’s seat. It wasn’t his style to pursue a woman who’d said no, but the way Ally had been acting, it was only a matter of time before her lips would echo what her body was already saying.

…

“Blast!” Ruefully Ally examined her scraped hands and knees. She’d been jogging along her usual route, enjoying the early morning air, her body moving freely and easily in time to the music from her iPod. But she hadn’t spotted the loose gravel on the road’s shoulder, and her feet had slipped, sending her skidding across the rough aggregate.

Her hands and knees weren’t too bad—just scratches and chafed skin—but when she pulled herself upright, the shooting pain in her ankle had her flinching. She rubbed it for a few moments, ruing her bad luck, before she began to hobble along the road. Home was about three kilometers away, but hopefully she’d be able to flag down a passing motorist. Even though this was a quiet back road with no houses nearby, it was seven o’clock on a Thursday morning, and there was bound to be passing traffic. Peering ahead, she made out a figure jogging on the opposite side of the road, coming toward her. She stopped as soon as she realized it was Nate. Judging from his unsurprised expression, he’d recognized her already, and he had picked up speed, closing the distance between them in seconds.