'Oh, my darling,' Julia held his face in her hands and planted a big wet kiss on his mouth. 'I love it when you're clueless. It's so adorable.'
Ry reached for Julia and pulled her close. 'So tell me about your plan.'
'It's much cleverer and way more sneaky than yours, and it involves your best friend and mine. Before the accident Dan and Lizzie were circling each other. I know her. She likes him.' Lizzie looked into Ry's eyes, all seriousness. 'She's pretending she doesn't, of course. I'm simply devising ways for them to stumble into each other, that's all. You wanted Dan to get a meal from the pub every night? I asked Lizzie to deliver it. See my logic?'
Ry narrowed his eyes. 'I see you interfering and that's a recipe for disaster.'
'This is not interfering. I'm simply doing my job. I solve problems for a living, remember? There's something there between them. There has been from the first time they met. And I have an ulterior motive, if you must know.'
'Only one?'
Julia pinched his arm. 'I'm thinking of our wedding. You surely didn't buy me this enormous rock for nothing.'
This time, he leaned over and kissed her.
'I can't wait to marry you, Ry Blackburn, but I know you want Dan to be your best man.'
Ry's expression became guarded. 'I want him there, JJ. But I haven't asked him yet. He'd probably say no, the state of mind he's in right now.'
'Ry, you know I'll wait. Of course I will.'
'He'll get there. What was it Lizzie said we had to do? Give him space.'
'And I'm saying we have to make sure he knows exactly what he's missing out on.'
'And that would be the company of my manager and your best friend, right?'
'You are catching on. So, are we going to text him Lizzie's address?'
Ry picked up his phone.
Four months before, Dan developed withdrawal symptoms if he was more than ten minutes from a hip bar, an imported beer and the potential available in a group of hot women. Now, his favourite night-time pursuit was walking around Middle Point, unseen, unnoticed, hidden by the dark. He found his solitude when everyone else was home in the air-conditioned cool, especially late on hot nights like this one. He could be anonymous in the sparsely lit streets, which were brightened only by the occasional car headlights. It was a quiet place at night and it was growing on him.
Ry's street directions had been simple and direct, which made him think they were probably Julia's instructions. She'd know the way from his place to Elizabeth's with her eyes closed. He wondered what those two women had been like as teenagers. Had they driven every hormonal teenage boy mad with lust? Hell, yeah. Look at Ry. He hadn't stopped pining for Julia in the fifteen years they were apart. Pussy-whipped, Dan thought with a smile, totally pussy-whipped.
As if to prove Dan's theory, his best mate was settled here in the Point, and for a reason Dan still couldn't completely understand himself, he'd moved down too. After the accident and being in hospital all those weeks, he'd decided he needed to get away from the city for a while, suck in the fresh air and recuperate. He needed to stay away from bars, women and twelve-hour working days, and the Southern Ocean and the majestic views of the Fleurieu coastline would be just what he needed while he recovered. Some peace and quiet and solitude. Get his head back on straight. Think about what came next, without all those distractions. What Dan couldn't figure out was that if he was so adamant about being left alone, why he was on his way to Elizabeth's. Nothing about that made sense.
Ry's instructions were, however, clear: you can't miss the pink birds in the front yard. Dan looked past them and could see right into the house. She hadn't drawn the curtains or the blinds-another weird thing about Middle Point, he'd noticed-and he could see right through the front windows. There was a kitchen through the left one and a living room on the right and as he watched, unseen, he could hear music. Lizzie moved from one room to the other, a glass of wine in her hand, her fingers light on the stem, and she was swaying from side to side as she walked, in rhythm with the song. It was something he recognised. It was Aretha Franklin celebrating feeling like a natural woman.
Dan walked up the drive to the front door. Just apologise and go home. It's not brain surgery, McSwaine. He knocked on the aluminium screen door, rattling it in the doorframe, and he heard Lizzie call out a chirpy, 'Come in.' He realised he had no clue about Middle Point etiquette. Should he call out and announce himself or not? He flipped a metaphorical coin in his head and walked inside. Lizzie was across the open plan living space in the middle of the kitchen. Her golden hair shone in the overhead light and something smelled like home cooking.
'Elizabeth.'
Lizzie spun around with a jolt. Before she could get a word out of her parted lips, the wine glass had slipped from her hand and shattered with a splintering crash on the hard tiles of the kitchen floor.
'What the hell-', she gasped. She clamped a hand over her chest, her fingers splayed from the swell of her breasts to the base of her neck. From across the room, Dan watched as her breasts rose and fell with each heavy breath she took. She was as white as a sheet and she was glaring at him like he'd just committed a break and enter.
'It's me.'
Lizzie said nothing, squeezed her eyes shut and just breathed, in and out, slow inhalations through her nose and out through her mouth. Dan waited, unsure of what to do.
'I can see that now. Bloody hell, Dan. You scared me half to death. What are you doing here?'
Very good question. He glanced around while trying to come up with an answer. There were hundreds of tiny shards of glass all around Lizzie's feet, twinkling in the light. Her bare feet. His eyes took a long, slow journey up her bare legs, her tanned thighs, along every curve to her arse, which he couldn't help but notice was barely covered by cut-off denim shorts. The little pink singlet top she was wearing was stretched tight across her breasts and, by the standing-to-attention-nipple action happening right there, Dan judged there was nothing between the soft cotton and her bare skin.
Sweet Jesus. 'You said come in so I did.'
'I thought you were someone else. I wasn't expecting you.' Lizzie blew out a breath and put her twitching hands on her hips. She didn't want to move until the heart-pounding bass beat in her chest had slowed to a waltz, until she could wipe away the sweat on her brow without him noticing. What the hell was Dan doing here? She'd been expected a seventy-something retiree with attitude, not a six-foot-four slice of beefcake. Who seemed to be staring at her. Every inch of her. Lizzie wasn't sure what was causing the fluttering in her stomach but she needed it to stop. Immediately.
'Since you're here, can you at least make yourself useful? Go and grab the broom from the laundry. It's down the hall and to the right.'
Dan considered her request. When he finally moved, it wasn't in the direction of the hallway but towards her, his runners crunching the glass underfoot. A few steps more and then he was right there, so close she could smell his cologne, something beachy and light. He loomed over her and all she could see was his chest, a soft grey T-shirt stretched tight across his pecs and biceps.
'I didn't really want that glass of verdelho anyway,' Lizzie murmured. When she looked up at his face, because it was impossible not to, she noticed the colours of his beard were like autumn, a mix of jet black, coppery red and grey, framing full lips. His eyes, unsmiling, deep green now and almost black, held her.
'Hold on,' he said. Dan slipped one arm around her knees and the other around her waist and lifted her like it was no effort at all.
'What are you doing?' she demanded.
'What does it look like?' he replied tersely.
Lizzie felt a big bass drum beating inside her chest and wondered if he could hear it, feel it through her skin. This shouldn't have felt like a safe place to be but it was. Her arm automatically came to rest around his shoulders and she let herself feel the strength in his solid chest, pressing against her.
And then she couldn't help herself. With her left hand, Lizzie touched his beard, the tips of her fingers gently stroking it. She'd expected it to be prickly and rough but it was soft. She caressed it gently, from his jaw to his chin, spreading out her fingers to press her palm to his face. Something happened. There was a sharp intake of breath. A flare in his eyes. The heat from his body cranked up and Lizzie felt it flame right through her own.
Dan pulled her slightly closer. 'You right?' His voice was rough, barely there.
'Yes,' she murmured. She tightened her grip on him, bringing her left arm around his chest to hold on more securely. The move pressed her breasts up against him and her nipples tightened. Something stirred in her that felt like a slow-burning firecracker.
'You might get hurt,' he said.
Oh, way too late for that buddy.
'On the broken glass.' Dan carried her from the kitchen towards the carpeted living room. With each slow and sure step, their bodies pressed and moved against each other. That slow-burning firecracker was about to explode into starry streaks of technicolour sexual desire.