Faking It to Making It

“Emasculating,” he’d called her. “Bossy...stubborn...a pain in the ass.”

She’d only been trying to help. Believing that was what he’d wanted. What he’d needed. Believing he’d love her for it. If he’d just told her, asked her to back off... She’d probably have been so shocked her brain would have short-circuited.

Had all the men in her life thought that way about her? That she was stifling? Unbending? That she was so used to taking care of herself she didn’t know how else to be?

She was still staring at the dot on her wall, the pencil in her mouth, when there came a soft knock at her door.

Cursing softly around the pencil, she rid herself of the smock, washed her hands then, with one final pointless run of her hand over her hair, which was curling madly in the heat of the now roaring fire, she opened the front door with a flourish.

And there stood Nate, a day’s worth of stubble covering his hard jaw. A few sparkling drops of rainwater stuck to his short hair. A few more dried on the grey T-shirt stretched across his impressive chest. A casual jacket gripped his broad shoulders and faded jeans clung so lovingly to his thighs she couldn’t even allow herself to notice properly for fear she’d start to hyperventilate.

For the first time since she’d known him, he looked...ruffled. And, boy, did it suit him. It made him seem more accessible, somehow. Her perverse heart gave a happy little thumpety-thump.

Then Ernest bounded out of nowhere and stuck his nose in Nate’s crotch.

“Easy,” Nate said, laughing, surprise crinkling his eyes.

“Ernest!” said Saskia, lunging for his collar.

But Nate was down on his knees at that stage, rubbing behind Ernest’s the collar in the spot he liked best.

“He must smell these,” Nate said, tossing her a small blue box which—miraculously, considering her lack of dexterity—she caught.

She stared for several seconds at the box of Oreos. Then at Nate. Then at wiry Ernest, who was by now staring into the middle distance, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth, back leg slapping against the floor in ecstasy.

“You’ve done that before,” Saskia said.

“I’m a man of hidden depths.”

Don’t need to tell me, she thought, while trying not to appear as flummoxed as she felt. “Come on, kiddo, you’ve taken advantage of the man quite enough.” Saskia clicked and Ernest gave Nate’s hand one last lick before trotting back into the lounge room.

“Bossy,” said Nate.

After her trip down amnesia lane she felt her eye twitch at Nate’s choice of that particular word. “I find it gets the job done.”

Nate pulled himself to standing, his eyes creasing into a smile as he said, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Saskia said back, hating that she had to clear her throat afterwards. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He broke eye contact as he reached down for the dossier he’d dumped on the floor so he could pat Earnest. “I finally got around to adding some bits and pieces. Thought you might like a look.”

He held it out. She took it. And flummoxed didn’t even begin to name how she felt at that. It was a small miracle.

“Now?”

“Unless you’re busy?” He glanced over her shoulder and she realised she was blocking the entrance as if he was trying to sell her something.

“No. Nothing that can’t wait. Come on in.”

He squeezed past, his scent—hot, spicy—washing over her till she had to grip the door handle for support. And she couldn’t help thinking of the last time she’d seen him, the look he’d given her, as if it had taken every bit of civility in his arsenal not to throw her over his shoulder and take her back to his cave.

“Coffee?” she asked, her voice husky.

His eyes crinkled again. “Why not?”

She turned towards the kitchen, leaving him to follow, and couldn’t deny the little thrill scooting down her spine at the sound of the door shutting softly behind him. “What gave you the sudden urge to dive into shark-infested waters?” she asked, waving the dossier over her shoulder.

“I had some free time.”

“So says the man who made me consider keeping smelling salts on my person in case he passed out at the mere mention of anything deep and meaningful.”

She switched on her machine, set up a pair of espresso glasses and reached for a pitcher of milk. She came out of the fridge and leapt out of her skin when she found Nate just behind her, his eyes roving over her hair.

When he reached out to her, her wide eyes followed his hand. And just like that she was back in the bar, her heart racing, warmth tugging low in her belly, not able to quite catch her breath. Wondering how she was possibly going to find it in her to deny him a second time...