Someone Like You(7)

'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.