Cracking the Dating Code Read Free Page B

the house came into view. The back wheels always skidded on slick rock and this time Ophelia West’s hands clutched at his shoulders.
    An involuntary shudder rippled through him, not a prelude to desire but full-blown, roaring lust. Too long without a woman, he decided grimly. Far too long on this island alone, with only bleak thoughts for company.
    ‘Sorry,’ she murmured and withdrew her hands the moment the quad found traction again.
    ‘Leave them,’ he rasped. ‘It only gets rougher from hereon in.’
    This time she set her hands to the waistband of his jeans, probably under the misguided impression that it was the better alternative to skin on skin.
    It wasn’t.
    Seb’s body took her hands at his waistband as a signal that his jeans would soon be coming
off.
    Fifteen minutes all up, until they stood inside the house and out of the wind, with Ophelia West looking around curiously but not saying a word.
    Seb should have found her actions reassuring; the fact that she felt no need to befriend him or force him into inane conversation.
    He didn’t.
    All Poppy West’s silence did was make him want to know what she thought of the island and of the house. A house made of concrete and glass and metal. One that cut into the rock face at its back and enjoyed expansive ocean views from every room. He’d designed it himself. Built a fair chunk of it himself too. Took pride in its rugged beauty and the challenges that had gone into its design.
    Whatever the mouse thought of the place, she wasn’t letting on.
    ‘May I use a bathroom?’ she asked and he told her where one was and headed for the kitchen.
    Coffee would help. Had to help, and then he’d show her the office, fry up some bacon and then disappear for the day while she did whatever it was she’d come to do and he worked off his hangover, his foul mood, and his awareness of a little grey mouse who was trying hard to be no trouble, no trouble at all, and by doing nothing whatsoever to engage him had captured his attention more thoroughly than anyone had captured it in years.
    Seb dumped a wagonload of ground coffee into the shiny stainless steel machine, leaned into the counter and rested his head against a cupboard door.
    He closed his eyes and tried to remember what else his brother had said about Poppy West. Tried to remember if Tom had been interested in her, and if so, whether he’d ever acted on that interest.
    Probably.
    She was exactly his brother’s type. Classy. Smart. Kinda sweet, whereas Seb… Seb far preferred his women assured, adventurous and heading towards sinful.
    ‘Coffee smells good,’ said a quiet, measured voice, and he straightened and opened his eyes to find her standing uncertainly in the doorway.
    ‘It is.’ Was that his voice? That raspy, ill-used croak? ‘There’s sugar around here somewhere. Long-life milk too. Somewhere.’ Probably in a box down at the warehouse. He’d bring some up later.
    ‘I’ll take black with one.’
    Easy to please, this woman with perfect lips and a planet for a brain.
    She’d taken her jacket off and stood there in designer cut jeans and a dove-grey T-shirt that emphasised fine bones and slenderness. Small, high breasts. Plenty of leg.
    A man who wanted a piece of her would have to be gentle; he’d have to take care….
    ‘You want something to eat?’ he asked the mouse.
Mousemousemouse.
His
brother’s
little grey mouse. Business partner. Whatever. He’d find out soon enough.
    ‘No, thanks. I had a big breakfast.’
    Birdseed and yoghurt, what was the bet? ‘I’ll fill up an Esky for you to take down to the guest house,’ he told her. ‘There’s a fridge there. You’ll have to turn it on. Not sure if the bed’s made up. I’ll get you some linen too.’
    He probably should have checked the guesthouse for spiders. Lizards. Snakes. Gracious hospitality wasn’t exactly his forte.
    ‘Change of plan,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll sort the guest house. You just do whatever you’ve come here