SIXTEEN
Sixteen
Damian pulled her small frame against his own and almost groaned at the way she melted into him, a perfect fit.
He had just wanted to see her. He swore to himself when he’d pulled up that he hadn’t come here tonight to make a move. He’d wanted to take things slowly, enjoy the intellectual stimulation of her incredible mind as well as the physical intimacy of her incredible body. He’d felt a little like he was losing his grip on his sanity, and he hoped that the long ride to Armidale and back that day would help him cool his heels, and other parts.
The notion seemed laughable now. The first chance he’d got, he’d swept her up in his arms … although it hadn’t been all him. She’d teased him, invited him to respond, and the way she was kissing him back, she clearly wanted this as much as he did.
Her thin, long-sleeved shirt lovingly hugged the outline of her breasts, dipping just slightly to allow him a glimpse of the cleavage that had been driving him insane for the past few days. Now he could feel her softness pressed against his chest and his fingers itched to undress her and taste that delicate skin beneath her earlobe that had driven him to distraction. His heart gave a small lurch as he felt her fingers slip under the hem of his shirt and he held himself still, not wanting to make a wrong move. His patience paid off as he felt her hands slowly, almost hesitantly, glide upwards, and he let out a shaky breath against her mouth.
Removing one hand, she found his and placed it on the bottom of her own shirt. He didn’t need any further encouragement. His hands gently traced the soft skin of her torso and up to her rib cage. With a small, frustrated sound, Lottie eased back and removed her top before helping him discard his own, leaning forward to claim his lips once more, the kiss becoming even more fevered.
His hands fumbled and he found himself swearing silently. Why did he suddenly feel like a kid in his first make-out session? He was a reasonably apt lover—or so he thought, he’d never had any complaints—yet right now, he felt about as suave as a bull in a china shop. Get it together, man.
She moved, sliding onto his lap, and all previous concerns abruptly ceased as instinct took control. He felt the warmth of her against him and something almost primal replaced his insecurities, leaving nothing but the need to feel her skin against his, her body under his own.
Lottie lay quietly as she listened to their breathing slow back to a normal level and stared at the ceiling, her hand still interlinked with one of his, resting on the pillow above her head.
She opened her mouth but closed it again without saying anything. What was she supposed to say? Everything that came to mind just sounded … stupid. How did she express what just happened without making it sound cliché or cheap? Because it was neither. It had been …
‘Wow,’ Damian breathed.
She let out a small breath and felt a smile touch her lips. Thank goodness. ‘Yeah. That was … unexpected.’
‘It was. But I’m not sorry.’
‘Me either,’ she said, biting her lip before forcing herself to turn her head and look at him. Why she was suddenly crippled with shyness, she had no idea. When it had been happening, it felt as natural and right as though they’d been lovers forever, but now, with reality seeping back in, the truth came with it: they were basically strangers. Sure, they’d shared some stories and some kisses, but she didn’t really know him.
She let her gaze run across his broad cheeks and high forehead, soaking in the features her fingertips had traced only moments earlier. He rolled his head sideways to face her, and her heart skipped at the intense way his eyes probed hers. She remembered that look—the way he’d stared into her as he took her breath away so gently and yet with a powerful, aching longing. She swallowed hard. There had been a connection, something she’d never felt before with anyone else. This had been more than some pleasant way to pass the end of an evening. It had been so much more.
There was something, even now, a potent kind of feeling, something she couldn’t put into words but that somehow didn’t need words. It was as though their eyes were simply saying what neither of them seemed able to articulate with words and somewhere inside, she understood everything he was saying. It seemed corny and ridiculous even as she thought it, yet she couldn’t dismiss the rightness of the whole, weird, situation.
Her phone dinging broke whatever had been holding them in their little cocoon. Another ding from his phone quickly followed.
‘That’s weird timing,’ he said, seemingly reluctant to release her hand when she made to sit up.
Reaching for her shirt, she quickly pulled it on to cover her nakedness before picking up her phone. ‘It’s from Daphney,’ she said drolly.
‘Mine too,’ he said slowly. ‘Looks like your dinner invitation prediction was spot on.’
‘Yep. It’s started.’ The call-out to a hastily arranged early welcome dinner for their guest of honour had been set for tomorrow night.
‘Do we have to go?’ he groaned. ‘Can’t we just stay in bed for the rest of the week?’ He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Tempting … ‘Trust me, you do not want to say no to Daphney. Probably best to get it over and done with.’
‘Great,’ he said, sounding less than excited at the prospect. ‘At least you’ll be there. That’ll make it tolerable.’
‘You’ll do fine,’ she said, suppressing a grimace. Soon, Damian would no longer just be the handsome stranger who’d arrived in town to do some research; he’d be the festival’s main person of interest and everyone would want a piece of him. And Lottie wasn’t sure she was ready to share.
The pub was busier than usual. A man in a big black Akubra was sitting on a stool in the corner of the room, playing some upbeat country music on a guitar to a number of very loud country music fans and it was also meat raffle night.
Lottie made her way towards the meeting room that had been decorated as a private dining room for the evening in honour of their guest.
Her gaze fell on the far end of the room, where Damian stood, drink in hand, wearing a pair of jeans and a blazer. Maybe it was just the absence of his usual bike boots and T-shirt, but there was definitely something a little more professorial about him tonight. Not that she was complaining—he wasn’t any less attractive in a suit jacket than a leather one. He was listening carefully to whatever Terry and Shorty were discussing—more than likely the weekend’s footy results, or quite possibly their racehorse they part-owned and were very proud of.
Damian caught her eye, sending her a smile while appearing to continue to listen avidly to Shorty, who seemed to be imitating a jockey triumphantly riding a horse across the finish line. At least, she hoped that was what they were talking about.
‘What do you think of our guest?’ Janelle asked, coming to stand beside Lottie where she’d taken up position beside the plate of cheese and biscuits on a small side table.
‘He seems … nice,’ Lottie said awkwardly. It was sowing season, and it seemed the ladies from the farms were a bit behind on the local gossip about her and Damian. What a relief.
‘He’s a bit of all right, if you ask me,’ she said appreciatively, reaching across a stunned Lottie to scoop up a large dollop of dip on a round cracker before shoving the whole thing in her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully. ‘I was a bit disappointed when Daphney said we could only find a university teacher instead of a celebrity, but she didn’t mention he looked like that .’
‘I think he’s a professor, actually,’ Lottie said, trying to soften the blunt comment.
‘He’s yummy is what he is,’ Janelle continued unperturbed.
Lottie couldn’t disagree but it felt completely wrong for Janelle McTaggert to have noticed too.
‘I take it we’re talking about our man of the hour?’ Christine said, joining them.
Damian seemed to have inspired the women of the committee to forget their earlier disappointment in not finding a celebrity as guest of honour.
‘You think he’s single?’ Janelle asked, seemingly sizing Damian up like a piece of prime sirloin steak.
‘You’re a happily married woman, Janelle,’ Christine pointed out.
‘And I have an exceptional eye for a stud,’ Janelle shot back bluntly.
‘Looking like that?’ Carol put in, cutting in front of the small group to load up a biscuit with soft cheese. ‘Doesn’t matter, I reckon he’s most likely gay.’
Lottie coughed into her wine, feeling increasingly trapped in this conversation.
‘Well, I think he looks quite distinguished,’ Solene said when the others had wandered away from the table. ‘Exactly what our festival needs.’ She picked out a few nuts from the platter. Draped in a long, loose-fitting dress with flowing bell sleeves, Solene looked as ethereal and graceful as usual. Lottie often envied her style. She was always clothed in something that made her look like a fairy or some other dainty mythical creature. On most people, it would look like they were trying too hard to play dress-ups, but on Solene, it just looked natural.
‘I think so too,’ Lottie agreed.
Solene offered her a sly smile. ‘A little birdie told me the two of you have been spending a lot of time together recently,’ she said quietly.
‘Oh really?’ Lottie replied. ‘I didn’t think you listened to gossip.’
‘I don’t partake in gossip,’ Solene corrected. ‘It’s just impossible not to listen to it in this town. And Judy from the bakery tends to be right.’
‘True,’ Lottie conceded with a small smile. ‘And this time, the gossip would be correct, I guess. But I’m just helping out with some research.’
‘Is that what they’re calling it these days?’ Solene murmured, selecting a dried apricot from another plate. ‘I say good for you.’
Lottie noticed Damian had moved on and was with Corbin, who was talking animatedly, and Elijah. Damian was listening intently, and seemed to be asking incisive questions, if the look of delight from Corbin was anything to go by.
Lottie found his curiosity, and his patient listening, endearing. Maybe it was something to do with his passion for research and desire to learn. Curiosity seemed to be part of his nature. Whatever it was, he clearly had the ability to make people feel special when they spoke, an admirable quality. His students must love him.
Finally, he broke away and headed for the table of food.
‘You seem to be a big hit,’ she said, watching with slight amusement as he made a small noise in his throat, scooped up a square-shaped quiche and ate it in one mouthful.
‘I feel like I’m under a microscope or something, with everyone looking at me. It’s not my favourite thing.’
‘You’re the guest of honour.’
‘It feels like a lot of attention for a boring old professor,’ he said, shooting her a smile.
‘There’s been a lot of interesting topics covered, though. I’ve actually seen Elijah’s work in a gallery. He’s pretty famous, did you know? And—Corbin? I think his name was?’ he asked tentatively, before continuing when she nodded. ‘Did you know he’s won the Chelsea Flower Show? That’s huge! And they live here, in Banalla.’
‘I know,’ she said smiling. ‘He’s always travelling away for work. His client list is insane. But he wanted a quieter life for his kids, so he’s willing to do the travel and commute. Although I suspect, going by the impressive property he owns, he does a lot more overseeing than actual labouring nowadays.’
‘Every time I think I can’t be more impressed by this town, it surprises me again.’
‘It’s the location,’ she said with a shrug. ‘It’s central to a lot of bigger regional places and has great access to airports. Heaps of people still work in the bigger cities and come home on weekends.’
‘I’m starting to consider the idea of moving here myself.’
‘Really?’ she asked, startled.
‘Well, I mean, potentially … It was just something I was tossing about in my head a few days ago.’
Move here? She was so caught off guard that she couldn’t quite process her reaction to the news before they heard a cheerful shriek of ‘There you are!’ as Daphney approached.
‘Dinner is ready and as our guest of honour, you need to be at the head of the table,’ Daphney said, linking her arm through Damian’s and almost frogmarching him to one of the two seats positioned at the end of the long table. Her royal highness took the other for herself.
‘Don’t let her muscle in on your man,’ Cher murmured in Lottie’s ear, making her jump.
‘Stop it,’ she replied with forced calm. ‘He’s not my man.’
‘Well, he’s certainly not hers ,’ Cher added pointedly.
‘Let’s try to not make a scene and just get through the evening,’ Lottie said, selecting a chair further down the table.
She caught Damian’s eye, which held not an altogether small amount of fear, and sent him a sympathetic smile. They’d discussed her desire to try to keep whatever this thing was between them as private as was possible in a town this size. She really didn’t want to make a big deal about it in front of her business neighbours. When he left town after the festival, the gossip wouldn’t necessarily end—there’d always be the questions hanging over her head: So what’s happening with the professor? Are you two still seeing each other? She could hear them already, and she gritted her teeth tightly.
But he might stay , came the tiny reminder, and she felt the stirring of hope briefly before she shook it away. He was probably letting the idea run wild while he was here. Once he returned to the city and his old life, he’d realise living in a small town like theirs was very different from city life. For so many people, the peace and quiet was nice, but only for a limited time. No, it was best not to hold on to that. This was just a bit of a fling—something unexpected and fun while it lasted. And she most definitely did not want the whole town getting any funny ideas about a relationship. No thank you very much.