Cracking the Dating Code (5 page)

‘I think the bar,’ she murmured. The bar was not real, ergo any flirting she attempted in it was not real either. ‘You go first, though. I’m too busy staring at you and coming to the conclusion that you’re a lot bigger than your brother and a great deal more—’

‘Docile?’ he offered.

‘Disturbing. I’m sensing you swim with sharks on a regular basis. Laugh in the face of gushing oil wells. Break hearts every other day.’

‘You don’t know that yet.’

‘
Do
you break hearts every other day?’ she asked.

‘Not if I can help it. This is a point in my favour, I might add.’

‘I’m also trying to figure out if you’re already in some kind of romantic relationship,’ she murmured. ‘You’re not wearing a ring, but I’m sceptical about your being unattached. I think I’m going to pass.’

‘I’m unattached,’ he said. ‘Tom’s probably told you this in passing. I’m asking you what you’re drinking and whether you’d like another.’

‘I’d like a mineral water this time, with a slice of lime.’

‘You realise the addition of lime pegs you as high maintenance?’

‘Does it? Maybe I am.’

‘You’re really not.’

‘Then it’ll come as a pleasant surprise to you later on. The lime stays.’

‘Recalcitrant,’ he murmured.

‘Maybe you like that. I can see a wayward woman appealing more to you than a mousy one. I’m all for ditching my current mousy image.’

‘Really?’ He stared pointedly at her light blue short-sleeved T-shirt and slimline grey trousers. ‘What are you wearing?’

‘An outfit I got for Christmas. A baby-doll black dress and a bone-coloured shortish trench coat over the top of it. It’s the sexiest outfit I own.’

‘A trench coat is the sexiest outfit you own,’ he echoed with a glum shake of his head. ‘That’s just sad.’

‘Never underestimate the transformative powers of couture, Sebastian. I did not choose this outfit. My very savvy, very confident, soon-to-be sister-in-law chose it for me. That woman can rock a room just by stepping into it. I look good.’

‘All right, I’ve noticed. Now what do you do?’

‘I ask you if you’ve ever played billiards in a steel and glass fortress on a deserted island
in a storm before.’ Because the wind was of a certainty picking up and the clouds were on the roll.

‘I say yes.’

‘Who won?’

He sank two more balls in rapid succession and lined up the third. ‘Me.’

‘You’ve played this game before,’ she said and he cut her a glance and sighed.

‘That’s it? That’s all you’ve got by way of flirty words?’

‘And you smell very nice too. I noticed it before. You smell like the sea.’

‘You hate the sea.’

‘I like the smell of it. Always have. And I’m fresh out of flirty words. I think I’m just going to stand here now and look good. See if that suffices.’

‘It won’t. Why don’t you try a few flirty moves?’ he suggested helpfully. ‘At the next gust of wind, flinch and move a little closer. I’ll probably ask you how you’re holding up.’

‘Are you sure that’s a good move for me?’ she countered with a frown. ‘It seems a little needy.’

‘I like being needed.’

‘Don’t we all. I just don’t see why
I
have to be the needy one. I’m all for equal neediness or none at all.’

‘All right, ditch the damsel in distress play, although for future reference it could really work for you. We’re moving on to vamp. You’re going to try channelling Marilyn Monroe. In a trench coat.’

‘Couldn’t I try channelling Mae West instead?’

‘Well, you
could
, but then you’re going to need a few good one liners and you don’t have any.’

True. Poppy sighed. ‘All right. What would a speechless vamp do?’

‘She’d station herself right where I’m going to want to stand next. Look at the table, read the play.’

Finally something Poppy could do with ease. She moved. Seb played the ball. White ball to Poppy. Maths was very predictable.

Men, on the other hand, were not. Rather than head towards her, Seb headed for her drink, picked it up and brought it over to her.

‘Touch my fingers as you take it,’ he instructed.

Poppy did so. Sebastian smiled. ‘Now you have
more
of my attention,’ he murmured, with his lips to her hair and his chest brushing against her shoulder as he turned back towards the table.

Poppy’s shoulder tingled where he’d
brushed it; the heat of him warmed the air between them.

‘You are deliberately invading my personal space,’ she said.

‘That’s the point. If you don’t like it, move away. If you do like it, let me know by turning in to me rather than away from me.’

‘What do I do with my drink?’

‘Good point.’ He took it from her and put it back on the bench and then returned to stand beside her, smiling as he took a strand of her hair between his fingers and tucked it gently behind her ear.

‘What was that for?’ she whispered breathlessly.

‘Maybe I thought it was in the way. And maybe I just wanted to touch you. See if you responded.’

‘How’d I do?’

‘Well, I’m liking the parted lips and the indrawn breath. Not sure you can improve on any of that. However, in the interests of being a true gentleman I’m now going to take a step back and concentrate on the table, and see what you do.’

‘I wouldn’t move away? Give you some space to play the shot?’

‘Not if you wanted more of me.’

‘If I
did
want more of you, what would I do?’

‘You move closer to me. Let your shoulder brush up against mine, yep, that’ll do it, elbow to elbow as well, and now you study the play.’

‘It’s not an easy shot,’ she said.

‘I know. How about you offer me a little wager against sinking it?’

‘Ten dollars says you won’t.’

‘A kiss from you says I will.’

Poppy drew back, just a little, just to see if he was serious.

‘Flirt,’ he reminded her with a trickster’s grin.

‘Done.’ What the hell had she done?

‘
Now
you can move out of the way,’ he said and turned around and sank the ball.

Silence would have reigned supreme except for the play of the music and the thumping of Poppy’s heart. ‘You’re not really expecting a kiss from me, are you?’ she asked warily. ‘In the here and now?’

‘Depends on just how far you want this flirting lesson to go,’ he countered easily. ‘You could always offer to clean my bathroom instead.’

‘I’ll take the kiss. It’ll be over faster.’

‘That’s one way of looking at it.’

There were other ways to look at a kiss from this man, however, and Poppy was fully aware of them. Call it research or call it practice. Call it whatever she wanted, she wanted to feel Sebastian’s mouth on hers. Courage in hand, Poppy set her hands to Seb’s chest, leaned forward on her tippy toes and kissed him.

Sebastian didn’t know what to expect from the touch of Poppy’s lips on his, but it wasn’t this. He meant to pull away, put a stop to the flirting and the kissing and turn the conversation to safer topics, like the weather, or when she might conceivably get her work done so that they could both get off this rock and back to civilisation, so that he could take care of a few things—like the taming of his libido.

But meaning to do something and actually doing it were two different actions altogether.

Ophelia West’s lips were full and soft and no power on earth could have stopped Seb from coaxing them open. Slowly. Gently. One tiny stroke of tongue at a time, and her taste when finally he tasted her made him groan on account of the sweetness. He gripped the edge of the billiard table with his hands, no pressure on her to continue this, no pressure
at all. Just in case she
was
an innocent. He had a feeling….

He couldn’t tell.

When her tongue tentatively met his he let her play and he played with her in turn. Encouraging it. Half wild for it.

Poppy’s hands crept up to his shoulders and then to the hair at the back of his neck.

He didn’t mind.

Seb closed his eyes, opened his mouth and feasted. Slow and languid when he remembered to be. Hungrily demanding when he forgot.

He forgot a lot.

She edged closer, and with one hand still clinging to stability he put his other hand to her waist and drew her closer still. Gentle, until he forgot and hauled her against his rampant, rigid hardness with a groan.

Her indrawn breath came quick and shaky. Absolute stillness came moments after that.

Seb kept his eyes closed and his curses to himself as Poppy’s hands left the back of his neck and her lips left his.

He drew his hand back from her hip, took a death grip on the table behind him and opened his eyes. Remembered to breathe.

Cornflower-blue eyes stared back at him, stunned.

Silent apology soon followed, although what she thought she had to apologise for was anyone’s guess.

‘I, ah…probably shouldn’t have done that,’ she said faintly, and pushed off him completely and there was space between them now. ‘You’re very kind.’

He had occasional, brief moments of kindness. Not sure this was one of them.

‘To humour me and let me practise on you. Like that.’ A fluttering wave of her hand supposedly told him what she meant by
that.

‘It wasn’t a hardship.’ Damned if he had the concentration for playing games now, not with desire riding him this hard. ‘Please tell me you’re not a complete innocent. That you’ve had at least
some
experience when it comes to kissing and all the rest.’

They stared at one another for what seemed like years.

Finally Poppy shrugged, every line of her tidy little body defensive.

‘Some.’

Oh, sweet mercy. ‘How much?’

‘I’m not a child, Sebastian.’ Her mouth set in a mulish line. ‘Enough.’

He tried to believe her. He wanted to believe her. But he just couldn’t shake the
notion that Ophelia West was innocent. Not just inexperienced but all the way clueless.

Or was she?

‘So what happens now?’ he murmured. ‘You want to continue where we left off?’ Because his body most certainly did, even if his brain was ringing a warning bell or ten.

‘I, ah…’

Innocent.

Or just undecided.

Did it really matter which?

Sebastian tried to put himself in Poppy West’s shoes. A woman here to work, who’d stumbled onto some play by accident and wasn’t sure if she wanted to proceed. A woman, moreover, who was dependent on him for food and shelter and had no way off this island for now. If those were the issues running through
his
brain, heaven only knew the kind of thoughts that might be running through hers.

‘Tell you what,’ he murmured, ‘why don’t we just chalk this one up to capricious winds and start afresh with each other in the morning? As in “Hi, I’m Seb, Tom’s brother, and I’ll be your host while you’re on the island.”‘

Poppy stared at him uncertainly.

‘Now your turn,’ he prompted. ‘Something along the lines of “Hi, I’m Poppy. It’s
not really my mission in life to drive you to distraction. I just stumbled onto that one by accident.”‘

Uncertainty turned to tentative amusement. ‘Consider it said.’

‘No, you have to say it.’ Time to put the width of the billiard table between them and pray that it would be enough. Because the slightest hint of encouragement and his resolve to play the chivalrous host would be well and truly tested. ‘What’s more, you have to sound like you mean it.’

‘Hi, I’m Poppy,’ she said. ‘I thank you for your hospitality, the flirting lesson and the kisses. The kisses were…’

‘Delicious?’ he prompted. ‘Delightful? Don’t say disastrous.’

‘I wasn’t going to say disastrous,’ she murmured.

‘Compliments will get you everywhere.’

She liked that. She didn’t run with it—inexperience rearing its head again? But she liked it.

‘Be that as it may,’ she said, ‘I’m going to turn in now because I’m a little bit out of my depth with you.’

‘Only a little?’ He couldn’t help it, he had to know.

‘It doesn’t have to be a lot,’ she countered.

‘If I can’t touch the bottom and I can’t swim to safety I’m still going to drown. So here’s me—swimming to safety and saying goodnight.’

‘Smart,’ he told her. ‘I heard that about you. Goodnight, Ophelia.’

‘Goodnight, Sebastian.’

But she didn’t seem inclined to move.

Seb inclined his head towards the door. ‘Guest house is that way.’

Poppy flushed pink and shielded her eyes with her lashes. She put her billiard cue gently down on the table.

And then she fled.

Poppy roared down the dirt track with scant regard for her safety or the fast approaching dusk. Mortification rode with her, an insistent companion, as she replayed the evening in her mind, trying to figure out how things had gone so wrong.

There’d been the meal, which she’d thanked him for.

The billiards game, which she’d been losing.

The flirting, at which she’d been hopeless.

And then there’d been the kiss.

Yep, the root cause of the problem had
been the kiss. She’d been completely enmeshed in it, sensory overload.

And then he’d pulled her closer and she’d felt his arousal and the enormity of what she was doing—of where Sebastian’s greedy, knowing mouth was leading her—had crashed down on her. She’d wanted to be ready for more but she hadn’t been.

Inexperience had rendered her motionless. Speech less.

Shocked.

But not unwilling. He’d read her wrong if he’d read her that way. She just hadn’t known how vividly arousing close body contact could be.

And now she did.

The quad throbbed beneath her but it wasn’t enough.

Seb had noticed her inexperience. Picked it, pegged it, been horrified by it and, yes, age-for-experience she was in the minority, but she was open to change and always had been. She’d just never found the right vector for it.

Before now.

Poppy kept on driving and minutes later parked the quad in the little shed behind the guest house and made her way up the back steps, through the wet room and into the tiny
kitchen, turning the light on as she went. A sucker-footed gecko skimmed along the wall, taking refuge behind a cupboard, tail in and nose out.