‘That’s a late appointment.’
‘Appointment?’
‘Your physio works interesting hours. Sure there’s not an extra-special massage involved at this time of the night?’
He ran a hand around the back of his neck, cursing the brightness of city streetlights. He needed to be fully awake, on his toes, to engage—or perhaps that should be indulge—in verbal battles with Jemma. ‘For what he charges, there should be.’
‘I thought you never lied.’ Jemma leaned down to pick up her kit bag from the pavement and he forced himself to look away from the flash of cleavage the scoop of her blouse revealed. ‘You said you had physio here today.’
‘No. I said I have physio on Saturdays. Not necessarily this Saturday.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Semantics.’
‘Nothing wrong with a little oral dexterity.’
Jemma’s eyes widened, but a smile hovered around her lips. She settled the bag on her shoulder. ‘Indeed. I like to think it’s something I excel at.’
This time he turned away, gesturing at his car as thoughit wasn’t the only ute parked in the street. ‘You obviously don’t excel at peripheral awareness.’
‘My mind was elsewhere.’
‘Tough party?’
She gave a short laugh. ‘You could say that. But I was thinking how different the city feels to the country. Even now.’ She gestured at the silent street. ‘It’s quiet, obviously, but there’s not that sense of … peace that the country has.’
‘You’ve clearly not been to a footy game, then,’ he joked. ‘Never would have picked you for a country convert.’
‘Didn’t say I was converted. Just that I’m astute enough to notice the differences. One of them being that guys don’t wait out in the streets of Settlers Bridge for people to come home at two am.’
‘Only because Ant would have a fit if he had to keep the pub open that late.’ And because Settlers was safe. Or at least it had been, until recently.
‘How did you find my place, anyway?’
‘Your dad.’
She groaned. ‘I would have hoped even he’d find it somewhat inappropriate to share my address so he could have me babysat.’
‘He didn’t exactly share it,’ Hamish admitted. ‘Lachy and I helped him haul some gear from here when he moved out to Settlers.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t know whether that’s more or less stalkery.’
He gave an embarrassed chuckle. ‘Yeah, well, me neither, now. That said, you’re home safe, so I’ll be on my way.’
Jemma reached out again, this time settling a hand on his forearm. ‘You’re going to come up, aren’t you? As you didn’t get your massage—orwhatever—the least I can do is offer you something … hot.’
Her innuendo was unmistakeable—and he knew he needed to run. He refused to risk messing this up by rushing into anything. ‘No, I’ve got to start work at sparrow-fart, so I’ll be on my way.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the ute, but his feet refused to take the hint.
Jemma glanced from him to the cafe entrance. ‘Actually … would you mind coming up? Just for five minutes. I’ve not been back in the apartment since …’
‘Shit, yeah, of course. Sorry, I didn’t realise …’ Didn’t realise that she’d been asking him to make sure her apartment was safe, not coming on to him. Didn’t realise that she was taking him at his word that he’d simply come to check she was okay. Didn’t realise that his charm wasn’t infallible, and he’d been imagining interest into the repartee. He took her bag, masking his embarrassment by striding toward the cafe door.
‘I appreciate your enthusiasm, but my keys are in there,’ Jemma said, with a lilting laugh in her voice.
This woman had only to speak to throw him off balance. Confused, disoriented, his reactions scrambled, but in an invigorating way, like he was on a wild fairground ride at the local show. He turned and held up the bag.
Jemma came close in a waft of perfumed alcohol. Unzipping the bag, she rummaged around to find the keys. She unlocked the door, then quickly tapped a code into the alarm system situated just inside. Then she flicked on her phone torch, dispelling the shadows cast by the streetlight.
‘Through the back, upstairs.’
