‘It all looks great, Ava.’
‘Thanks’ she said, dropping her eyes to the plans and pushing her hair back behind her right ear. Her long neck was tanned too and a dangling silver earring lay flat against the skin there as she tilted her head to the side. No pearls for this Gibson sister. She wasn’t the type. Callum looked closer. The decorative curlicue of silver circles shone as it caught the morning light.
‘Are you sure there’s not anything you want to change or shift or discuss? I like to work collaboratively, to consult with you to come up with alternatives if things here don’t suit. I’m open to doing anything you want, Callum.’
I’m open to doing anything you want, Callum. Those words took him to a place he shouldn’t be going.
‘I’m a great believer in hiring people who know what they’re doing. And then I like to let them do it.’ And maybe watch, he thought. Ava in that singlet top and shorts, with heavy work boots on, getting hot and sweaty in his garden? Fuck.
‘So you have no other changes?’ she asked.
‘Nope.’
‘You like the design?’
‘Yep. Get to work.’ He fished in his pocket and presented Ava with a set of keys. He dangled them before her like a conjurer’s charm. She looked at them, looked up at him, and looked back at the keys.
‘They’re keys,’ she said.
‘Yes. To my house.’
‘Why would I need keys to your house?’
‘So you can get in when I’m gone.’
‘Where are you going?’ she asked, and a little crease appeared at the top of her nose. He fought the urge to reach up and trace it with a finger. He fought real hard.
‘Singapore.’
‘Is it a business trip or something?’ Ava asked.
‘They always are.’
‘That explains the clothes,’ she said, taking him in from head to toe.
There was a slight delay when she reached his chest, which he liked a lot. ‘You don’t like what I’m wearing?’
‘It’s perfectly nice but a little excessive for the weekend.’
He looked down at his suit trousers, his bespoke leather shoes and his crisp white cotton shirt. ‘You only get away with wearing jeans in first class if you’re an actor or a rock star.’
‘I’ve never flown first class. What’s it like?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s definitely more comfortable than the back of the plane, but it’s still work.’
Ava studied for a moment. ‘You don’t want to go?’
‘I’m a chief executive, Ava. It’s what I do.’
And when she smiled up at him, he couldn’t brush it off this time as a friendly gesture. This time, that smile of hers, slightly crooked, accompanied by that blush and the shine in her eyes, shot him in the chest. And in the groin.
And he realised he didn’t want to get on that goddamn plane and leave this woman behind. He wanted to crack open a bottle of wine, prepare them an amazing lunch and then make love to her all afternoon with the sound of the sea breeze through the open windows and the feel of her body against him, under him, on top of him, all around him.
‘Well … what if I have questions when you’re away?’
He reached down to the table and picked up his phone, slipped it in his pocket. ‘Text me.’
Ava crossed her arms, a doubtful expression furrowing her brow, and the look in her eyes now said, yeah right. ‘And I’m sure Evelyn will love me for bothering her with questions about drainage.’
‘This is my private line, remember? The only person who sees messages or phone calls is me.’
‘Right.’ Ava bit her lip.
‘Some things are best kept private,’ he said quietly. ‘Because, you know, all that insider trading and price-fixing I do sometimes requires complete privacy and a secure line.’
Her eyes flashed up at him and she grinned.
He chuckled. ‘And in case you’re thinking of reporting me to the Australian Securities and Investments Commission, that was a joke.’
‘I’m warning you. If you were corrupt, I would.’
‘I would expect nothing less from a class warrior like yourself.’
A blossoming pink colouring her cheeks. ‘Why thank you for the compliment. When you grow up where I did, being a class warrior, as you call it, comes as naturally as breathing.’
‘I admire that. Knowing where you come from, defending it.’ He took a step closer. He needed to. ‘But there’s something I can’t figure out.’
‘And what’s that?’
He reached for her hair, taking a strand in his fingers and twisting it loosely around his index finger. It was strong but soft, just like Ava. And he wanted to see more of that softness underneath the tough. ‘I don’t understand why you took one look at me and decided you didn’t like me.’