A Kiss to Seal the Deal (10 page)

His muscles jerked back to full tension in a heartbeat. Had Kate somehow primed Pickering to say this? ‘I'm going to sell it to someone who can run it like it should be run.'

‘There is no Tulloquay without you on it. It's just land.'

Grant frowned. ‘It's some of the best coastal land in Castleridge.'

‘It has no value if it passes out of McMurtrie hands. It was your great-grandfather's, then your grandfather's, then Leo's. It only exists because of you.'

Grant clenched his fists where they rested on the gunnel. Kate stepped into the breach. ‘How about we keep our focus on finding the breeding site?' she gently hinted.

John Pickering threw her a speculative look from under grey, bushy brows but turned back to his wheel. Grant stared long and hard at the man's broad back, his mind churning.

Did everyone think he was letting his family down by selling Tulloquay? He was trying to do the exact opposite—keep the property's soul intact, honour its heritage.

Why would his father have spent a lifetime building up Tulloquay if the sea had truly been his mistress? Once he had lost his wife, his son, what had stopped him from selling up and pursuing his own dream?

Nothing. So it couldn't have been what he wanted.

He had a lot of fishermen mates—so what? Most of Grant's own friends were in construction, not law. Who a man chose to have a beer with didn't mean a thing.

His brow folded again. Unless it did?

Grant turned his back on the uncomfortable conversation except to note how effectively it had distracted Kate from thoughts about the breeding site. Her focus was well and truly on the next bay on her map, a kilometre closer to the homestead.

At least they were moving in the right direction. If his luck held, she'd forget all about the empty cove half-hidden from view.

If
his luck held.

‘Y
OU
cook?'

Kate looked up from four bubbling pots. ‘I live on my slow-cooker at home. I thought I'd give the theory a crack on a country stove.' She frowned. ‘It's not really working out.'

Just one more thing she couldn't get to go her way. Everything was slowly slipping out of her hands.

Grant peered into the fiercest of the simmering pots. ‘Smells fine to me. And it's not from a tin, so I'm already sold.'

‘You don't cook?'

‘Not for one. I'd rather eat out and have someone who actually knows food make mine. Or have something at my desk.'

‘You're still at work at dinner time?'

‘Sometimes. It's quiet after five; I get more done in those couple of hours than the rest of the day.'

The campus lab was exactly the same. Kate stirred the most vigorous pot and then reduced the heat and sat the lid on top. Grant reached around her for the bottle-opener which hung on a peg under the overhead cupboards. They didn't touch, but she was more aware of the gentle heat coming off him than from the furnace she'd coaxed to life in the country oven in front of her. And that smell….

She sighed.

‘This was supposed to be
your
birthday dinner. You shouldn't be making it,' he said, snagging two glasses from the shelf above.

‘I was serious when I said I don't do birthdays. Consider this a thank-you for finding the TDR.'

His footsteps behind her slowed and her eyes flicked to the polished stainless steel of the fridge. His reflection paused, half-turned back, but then moved on, crossing to the wine-rack, whatever he'd been about to say lost. ‘Red or white?'

Kate released the breath she only just realised she was holding. ‘Absolutely no idea.'

‘What are we having?'

Kate frowned at the meal that wasn't really going to plan. ‘Beef Surprise'.

Grant chuckled and reached for a red.

Kate put the lids on all the pots to keep simmering, wiped her hands and then turned to him boldly. This was a conversation she much preferred to lead, even though she didn't really look forward to it. ‘I'm just making good on my promise to cook you something after I dragged you from the diner last night.'

Openings didn't come more obvious than that. He didn't look surprised that she'd handed it to him—if anything he looked impressed. Had he not expected her to have the guts to be direct? He took his time pouring an inch of blood-red Merlot into two large glasses. He passed Kate one then leaned on the kitchen island. ‘You have nothing to make good for. I appreciate the fact that you got me out of there until I'd pulled myself together. I wasn't really
compos mentis
.'

Her chest tightened. ‘It was a lot to take in. For both of us.' She paused. ‘Is that why you…?' Her newfound courage failed her.

Grant held her eyes. ‘No. I knew what I was doing.'

‘So it
was
intentional?'

Thick lashes dropped over those green eyes and Kate realised, looking at Grant, that they reminded her of the place the forest met the jade waters of an inlet lagoon. The kind of place she liked to go to do her thinking. Was that why she felt so comfortable gazing at him? Yet so intensely uncomfortable.

One brow quirked. His eyes pumped out heat. ‘You think my lips stumbled and fell onto yours?'

A warm stain raced up her throat and she stepped away from the stove. ‘No. But I did wonder…because you were upset…'

‘Did I kiss you because I was in shock about my father?'

Yes, exactly.
Her fingers shook as she swirled her wine. She glanced up at the steady eyes that carried so much hidden thought deep in their depths. How could he be so composed?

He placed his wine glass down after an age and stepped towards her. ‘I've told myself all day that was why—that we were both upset, that we were both seeking comfort.' He stopped just shy of bumping against her and her heartbeat tripped over itself. ‘Is that why you kissed me back? Because you were upset about Leo?'

Any chance of blaming it on that, or of pretending the kiss had been one-sided, flew out the window like a rogue, deflated balloon. But before she could answer he stole the words straight from her subconscious.

‘I kissed you because we were alone, confined and because all I could smell was you.'

Physical attraction. Her heart took a few seconds to collect itself and get back up—that, at least, she could still control. Somewhat. She threw out a breezy chuckle. ‘I hope it was better than my usual
eau de
fur seal.'

The two pools of green focussed on her seemed to swirl and intensify while she waited for his answer. ‘Immeasurably.'

She took a deep breath. ‘What are we going to do about it?'

His mouth twisted seductively. ‘This kitchen island looks like a pretty good place to continue where we left off…' He patted the top of the carefully crafted timber island behind him.

Kate's lungs squeezed into a tiny ball before she could take a proper breath. Excitement and outrage felt like close cousins when she was this close to Grant's masculine tug, but sense
returned with the airflow and she opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of that idea. They were in a professional working relationship. Supposedly.

He headed her off. ‘Relax, Kate. That was a joke.' He twisted and reclaimed his wine. ‘You have the worst poker face I've ever seen.'

The umbrage leaked out of her on a carefully released breath. ‘You think this is funny?'

His gaze grew serious. ‘No. But you're wound as tight as the coils running the artesian bore. I just wanted to let you release some of that, so we can properly talk.'

Oh.

‘My question's still the same,' she persisted. ‘What are we going to do about it?'

The glinting flash of speculation filled his gaze. ‘What do
you
want to do about it?'

Kate couldn't have this discussion with them crammed like sheep into Leo's small kitchen. She crossed round the opposite side of the island and moved to the dining table. Having its width between them was a blessing, even if it did mean Grant's long legs brushed against hers as he sat across from her.

‘Nothing. It can't happen again,' she said.

He pursed his lips and nodded slowly. ‘Kisses like that don't come along every day.'

Kate forced air up her tight throat. ‘Are you saying you—?'

‘What we
want
and what we
do
are different things. It's what makes us a civilised species. I'm just playing devil's advocate, making sure we look at this from all angles.'

‘Covering all contingencies?'

He lifted his palms in front of him. ‘It's what I do best.'

She begged to differ. There were probably a number of things this man could do brilliantly. Kissing, for starters. She took a breath. ‘OK, I'll play. Sure, it was a good kiss.' Then, at his expression, ‘OK—a
great
kiss. So what?'

‘So we have to take that into account.'

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Like a scientific variable?'

He laughed, and the sound was a hot blow of breath down her spine. ‘If you insist on de-romanticising it, sure.'

There was nothing romantic about the careful way he was keeping his emotions hidden from her. ‘I thought we were talking about attraction, not romance,' she challenged.

He raised his glass. ‘Spoken like a true scientist. Actually, we were talking about kissing.' He leaned further towards her. ‘But, since you mention it, yes, let's talk about attraction.'

Kate knew she'd opened the door but shoving it closed wasn't going to be easy. Not when this thing pulsed between them thick and hard-to-miss even now.

‘Lust.' Kate straightened up and faked confidence she was far from feeling. ‘It's straightforward enough. My pheromones and yours are mingling. Our receptors are connecting.'

He smiled. ‘Is that right?'

She shrugged, though it wasn't convincing. Even to herself.. ‘I can practically feel the norepinepherine doing its job.'

The smile doubled. ‘And what job's that?'

She kept her face impassive. ‘Sweaty palms. Racing heart. Dry mouth. Inability to think clearly.'

Burning need to crawl right over this table…

Green eyes blazed into hers, complicated and speculative. ‘Really? I'm doing that to you right now?'

The air was sucked clean out of her body and her brain instantly felt the loss of oxygen. ‘I…um… We were talking theoretics.'

The gorgeous grin graduated into a full chuckle, and he sat back and took a long sip of wine. Kate's gaze clung to the way the red liquid stained his full lips.

‘You live in a horrible, sterile world, Dr Dickson,' those lips informed her.

The ancient need to defend her occupation bubbled up. ‘It's good to understand these things. Keep them in perspective.'

‘Or what?' His eyes blazed into hers. ‘Seriously. What's the worst that could happen?'

‘We could misread this. Make bad choices.' If he'd noticed her unintentional ‘we' he wasn't saying.

‘Some things are beyond our control. Where's the law that says we can't just enjoy each other while it lasts?'

The implication bristled. Was any kind of more meaningful relationship so unlikely? ‘There's a lot at stake.'

At last, his eyes sobered. ‘True enough. Have we done much damage already?'

‘Nothing irreparable.'

Liar.

He nodded, slowly. ‘Good. I wouldn't want to make this any harder for you.'

‘Me? What about you?'

He shrugged those enormous shoulders. ‘I don't care about me. I'll survive.'

And somehow she knew the first part of that, at least, was one-hundred-percent true. But, even though common sense said she should, she couldn't let it go. Something deep down said that she should push this. Explore it, like a good scientist. ‘That suggests you might care about me?'

The pause was telling, given this man's skill for repartee, his rapier-sharp verbal swordplay. ‘I don't want you to be hurt, no.'

‘Why?'

Those expressive brows dropped again. ‘Why? Because you've done nothing to deserve it.'

The Beef Surprise bubbled in its pot.

‘Are we friends, Grant?'

The change of direction threw him. ‘You were a friend of my father's. More than I'd realised.'

She sat up straighter. ‘I never had dinner with your father. I never slept in his house.' Parrying with a verbal swordsman was almost thrilling.

But it couldn't last.

‘I imagine you didn't slide all over him in a car, either.'

That shut her down more than effectively. Heat flooded her neck.

Grant continued. ‘You and I are a different creature to you and my father.'

‘You hope.' She couldn't resist poking the angry bear, just a bit

He shook his head. ‘I
know
.'

‘How can you know? You two never spoke. Maybe we had some kind of December-May thing going on.'

He visibly winced. ‘I know because I saw how he felt about my mother. That kind of love never ends.'

‘He had a long life without it.'

‘There's the tragedy.'

‘I wouldn't have picked you as someone who believed in true love.'

‘Maybe I'd have been better off never recognising it. Makes it hard not to notice its absence elsewhere.'

The comment so perfectly fitted her own views; Kate had to force a light laugh. ‘Love isn't all it's cracked up to be. It didn't save either of our parents.'

Nor their children.

‘True enough. But we weren't talking about love. We were talking about why I know you never shared red wine with my father.' Grant swilled what was left of his wine in its glass and brilliant shards of ruby light bounced into Kate's eyes. ‘I've spent enough time with you to see what kind of a woman you are.'

‘And what kind is that?'

He sat back in his seat and tilted his head, studying her. As though he hadn't needed to put the concept into words until now. ‘Direct. Loyal. As easy to read as a billboard. You're passionate about the things that matter to you and selective in
what you let that be. You like everything to be ordered. You're not what I expected at all.'

Kate forgot to be angry at his cut-glass assessment. ‘What did you expect?'

‘Someone harder. Ruthless. Someone with no goodness.'

The ball in her throat expanded. ‘Someone more like you're used to dealing with?'

‘Pretty much. I don't always know what to do with you, Kate.' His eyes dropped briefly. ‘Or how to be.'

That hint of vulnerability limboed straight under her defences. She swallowed the tiny lump that formed. ‘Just be like this. No matter what happens, I'd rather face it openly with you—'
together
‘—than try and second guess what you might think or mean.'

‘It can't work like that, Kate. We're on opposite sides of the table.'

In that moment, the timber slab laid out for dinner for two might as well have been as wide and impassable as the Simpson desert. ‘Just because it hasn't happened doesn't mean it can't,' she muttered.

He shook his head. ‘It never happens. Not for real, only as strategy.'

Kate sighed; game playing just wasn't in her repertoire of life skills. She leaned forward. ‘I don't want to spend all my time dancing around you, Grant. I have too much to do and, quite frankly, there's too much pressure already. It wears me out. So, regardless of what you choose, I'm choosing to stay open.' She finished her wine in one big gulp. ‘And in the interests of that…' She'd never seen a human face shut down as fast as Grant's did as she paused to take a breath. ‘Tell me about the TDR.'