“Jordan? No. Of course not. I thought I said that before.”
“Yeah, I know, but I wanted to make sure.”
“Why?”
Misgiving filled her as he didn’t answer for the longest moment. Granted, he was paying attention to the road, but he seemed agitated, tapping the steering wheel.
Then he sighed. “Look, it’s probably best to wait until we’re at home.”
Her forehead wrinkled. Did he mean when he’d dropped her home? She’d made that plain, hadn’t she? Her stomach tensed. He wasn’t planning on taking her to his home, was he?
She gave an exaggerated yawn. “I’ll be so glad to get to bed.”
“Me too!” he said eagerly.
Alarm bells rang at his excitement. Um, no. That was the absolute furthest thing from her mind. “I’m sotired,” she said, emphasising that last word. “I’m looking forward to getting home to my flat. It’s been a huge day.”
“Oh. Yeah. Of course.”
She wouldn’t let him refer back to his previous comment, so she did her best to keep a flow of conversation going, asking him about his work for the upcoming week, emphasising what was happening with work for her. “I’m so grateful for Harriet. She’s been great to have work with me. Have you met her yet? I really think you two might hit it off.”Sorry, Harriet.“She’s such a hard worker, and so clever, and knows a lot about a lot of things. Anyway, I think it’d be great if you met her, especially as you’re both from the same neck of the woods.”
He shook his head, veering off the Warringah Freeway to Alfred Street, then onto Fitzroy, where they crossed under the gigantic bridgeworks to join Carabella. Carabella Street ended down near Admiralty House, where the prime minister stayed while in Sydney, but they were heading back closer to the bridge via Kirribilli Avenue, the circuitous path almost a figure eight. “I don’t care about Harriet.”
“But I think—”
“I’ve never thought of Harriet in the whole course of my existence! I don’t care whether she’s dead or alive but as your friend. Who can think of Harriet when Emma is around?”
Oh no. Ohno! How much had the man been drinking?
“I thought only of you. Everything—investing in your app, spending time with you tonight—has only been because of you.”
Oh dear. How could she call herself a professional matchmaker and be so oblivious to his interest? And now, he was driving her home, and … Wait—she really hoped it washerhome he was driving to.
“I feel like there’s been a mistake.” She stretched out her fingers then closed them.
“A mistake? How can you say that after the encouragement I received?”
She blinked. “Encouragement? What encouragement?”
“Tonight, when you hugged me and called me your hero. Do you mean to say that you didn’t mean it?”
She blew out a breath of exasperation. “I was grateful that you saved me from a thief. And I remain grateful—”
“See? You owe me.”
“Owe you?” She shook her head as a disconcerting thought snaked its way inside. Surely he didn’t mean to suggest … “How can I possibly owe you?”
He pulled the car to the side of the road.
“What are you doing?”
He moved in his seat to face her, then leaned closer. It took her a second to realise what was happening, that he was puckering his lips as if trying to kiss her. She shrank back against the headrest, angling her shoulder so his face met her jacket’s collar, not her skin.
“Neil, stop!”
He paused, then inched away, disgruntlement filling his features. “I don’t know why you want me to stop.”
“Haven’t you heard of consent or personal boundaries? The fact that no means no?”
