Someone Like You (5 page)

‘Enjoy the food.’ Lizzie gave him a little girly wave, which she instantly regretted, and turned to go. The sun-scorched grass crinkled underfoot as she crossed it and then she stepped out onto the road.

She didn’t have to look back at him to know that he was watching her walk away. She could feel it; the awareness she’d seen in his eyes was now heavy in her chest. So what if he was? He might simply be admiring the view, sucking in the sea breeze or watching the seagulls swoop and dive above the beach.

She looked back over her shoulder to see if her instinct was right. It was, in spades. Dan was still at his front door, the hint of that smile still lingering, his emerald eyes trained on her like a heat-seeking missile.

Lizzie sighed. Too much time in such close proximity to that half-nakedness and she might do things she would regret later. Like put her hands all over that six foot, four inches of man and then decide she wanted to have sex with Dan McSwaine.

Worst. Idea. Ever.

She shook that thought away, hoping it would cross the esplanade, wash out to sea and disappear forever.

‘You. Are. One. Stupid. Prick.’ Dan grabbed the box of food and closed the door behind him with a slam. What the hell would have been so hard about inviting Lizzie inside? She’d only stopped by every night for the past week to bring him one unbelievable meal after another, no questions asked, no expectations. So what if she’d taken to scarpering before he’d even opened the door.

Could he really blame her? He dropped the food onto his kitchen table with a thud, pulled out a chair and lowered himself into it. Slamming the door in her face the week before hadn’t been his smoothest move. It was definitely up there on the list of the top three dumbest things he’d ever done. And just then, when he’d had the chance to, he hadn’t even apologised for it. Seeing her standing at the door, her eyes wide in surprise and those full lips dropped open. All the words he’d been working on had slipped out of his hands like a fumbled catch in the slips.

He had to fix this. He couldn’t leave things hanging any longer.

Ry’s phone beeped against his thigh. He reached inside his jeans pocket, gently mining the very small space between his body and his fiancée’s. They were sprawled on the white leather sofas in the house next to Dan’s, watching a movie, entwined.

He grinned when he saw the message. ‘JJ, look at this. Dan’s asking where Lizzie lives.’ Ry flipped the phone around so Julia could read the display and she simultaneously propped herself up, pressed pause on the remote control and snatched the phone from Ry’s fingers.

‘What’s Lizzie’s address
,’ she read out loud. ‘Mmm. Such sub-text. Such poetry.’

‘Give me that. You’re missing the point, JJ. Operation Dan seems to be going just as we planned.’

‘Don’t you mean Operation
Dan and Lizzie
?’ Julia tossed the phone in his lap.

Ry looked confused. ‘I don’t know what plan you’re talking about but I mean the plan we hatched to get Lizzie to help Dan out of this…this whatever the hell he’s going through.’

‘Oh, my darling,’ Julia held his face in her hands and planted a big wet kiss on his mouth. ‘I love it when you’re clueless. It’s so adorable.’

Ry reached for Julia and pulled her close. ‘So tell me about
your
plan.’

‘It’s much cleverer and way more sneaky than yours, and it involves your best friend and mine. Before the accident Dan and Lizzie were circling each other. I know her. She likes him.’ Lizzie looked into Ry’s eyes, all seriousness. ‘She’s pretending she doesn’t, of course. I’m simply devising ways for them to stumble into each other, that’s all. You wanted Dan to get a meal from the pub every night? I asked Lizzie to deliver it. See my logic?’

Ry narrowed his eyes. ‘I see you interfering and that’s a recipe for disaster.’

‘This is not interfering. I’m simply doing my job. I solve problems for a living, remember? There’s something there between them. There has been from the first time they met. And I have an ulterior motive, if you must know.’

‘Only one?’

Julia pinched his arm. ‘I’m thinking of our wedding. You surely didn’t buy me this enormous rock for nothing.’

This time, he leaned over and kissed her.

‘I can’t wait to marry you, Ry Blackburn, but I know you want Dan to be your best man.’

Ry’s expression became guarded. ‘I want him there, JJ. But I haven’t asked him yet. He’d probably say no, the state of mind he’s in right now.’

‘Ry, you know I’ll wait. Of course I will.’

‘He’ll get there. What was it Lizzie said we had to do? Give him space.’

‘And I’m saying we have to make sure he knows exactly what he’s missing out on.’

‘And that would be the company of my manager and your best friend, right?’

‘You are catching on. So, are we going to text him Lizzie’s address?’

Ry picked up his phone.

Four months before, Dan developed withdrawal symptoms if he was more than ten minutes from a hip bar, an imported beer and the potential available in a group of hot women. Now, his favourite night-time pursuit was walking around Middle Point, unseen, unnoticed, hidden by the dark. He found his solitude when everyone else was home in the air-conditioned cool, especially late on hot nights like this one. He could be anonymous in the sparsely lit streets, which were brightened only by the occasional car headlights. It was a quiet place at night and it was growing on him.

Ry’s street directions had been simple and direct, which made him think they were probably Julia’s instructions. She’d know the way from his place to Elizabeth’s with her eyes closed. He wondered what those two women had been like as teenagers. Had they driven every hormonal teenage boy mad with lust? Hell, yeah. Look at Ry. He hadn’t stopped pining for Julia in the fifteen years they were apart.
Pussy-whipped
, Dan thought with a smile,
totally pussy-whipped
.

As if to prove Dan’s theory, his best mate was settled here in the Point, and for a reason Dan still couldn’t completely understand himself, he’d moved down too. After the accident and being in hospital all those weeks, he’d decided he needed to get away from the city for a while, suck in the fresh air and recuperate. He needed to stay away from bars, women and twelve-hour working days, and the Southern Ocean and the majestic views of the Fleurieu coastline would be just what he needed while he recovered. Some peace and quiet and solitude. Get his head back on straight. Think about what came next, without all those distractions. What Dan couldn’t figure out was that if he was so adamant about being left alone, why he was on his way to Elizabeth’s. Nothing about that made sense.

Ry’s instructions were, however, clear:
you can’t miss the pink birds in the front yard
. Dan looked past them and could see right into the house. She hadn’t drawn the curtains or the blinds—another weird thing about Middle Point, he’d noticed—and he could see right through the front windows. There was a kitchen through the left one and a living room on the right and as he watched, unseen, he could hear music. Lizzie moved from one room to the other, a glass of wine in her hand, her fingers light on the stem, and she was swaying from side to side as she walked, in rhythm with the song. It was something he recognised. It was Aretha Franklin celebrating feeling like a natural woman.

Dan walked up the drive to the front door.
Just apologise and go home. It’s not brain surgery, McSwaine
. He knocked on the aluminium screen door, rattling it in the doorframe, and he heard Lizzie call out a chirpy, ‘Come in.’ He realised he had no clue about Middle Point etiquette. Should he call out and announce himself or not? He flipped a metaphorical coin in his head and walked inside. Lizzie was across the open plan living space in the middle of the kitchen. Her golden hair shone in the overhead light and something smelled like home cooking.

‘Elizabeth.’

Lizzie spun around with a jolt. Before she could get a word out of her parted lips, the wine glass had slipped from her hand and shattered with a splintering crash on the hard tiles of the kitchen floor.

‘What the hell—’, she gasped. She clamped a hand over her chest, her fingers splayed from the swell of her breasts to the base of her neck. From across the room, Dan watched as her breasts rose and fell with each heavy breath she took. She was as white as a sheet and she was glaring at him like he’d just committed a break and enter.

‘It’s me.’

Lizzie said nothing, squeezed her eyes shut and just breathed, in and out, slow inhalations through her nose and out through her mouth. Dan waited, unsure of what to do.

‘I can see that now. Bloody hell, Dan. You scared me half to death. What are you doing here?’

Very good question. He glanced around while trying to come up with an answer. There were hundreds of tiny shards of glass all around Lizzie’s feet, twinkling in the light. Her bare feet. His eyes took a long, slow journey up her bare legs, her tanned thighs, along every curve to her arse, which he couldn’t help but notice was barely covered by cut-off denim shorts. The little pink singlet top she was wearing was stretched tight across her breasts and, by the standing-to-attention-nipple action happening right there, Dan judged there was nothing between the soft cotton and her bare skin.

Sweet Jesus
. ‘You said come in so I did.’

‘I thought you were someone else. I wasn’t expecting
you
.’ Lizzie blew out a breath and put her twitching hands on her hips. She didn’t want to move until the heart-pounding bass beat in her chest had slowed to a waltz, until she could wipe away the sweat on her brow without him noticing.
What the hell was Dan doing here?
She’d been expected a seventy-something retiree with attitude, not a six-foot-four slice of beefcake. Who seemed to be staring at her. Every inch of her. Lizzie wasn’t sure what was causing the fluttering in her stomach but she needed it to stop. Immediately.

‘Since you’re here, can you at least make yourself useful? Go and grab the broom from the laundry. It’s down the hall and to the right.’

Dan considered her request. When he finally moved, it wasn’t in the direction of the hallway but towards her, his runners crunching the glass underfoot. A few steps more and then he was right there, so close she could smell his cologne, something beachy and light. He loomed over her and all she could see was his chest, a soft grey T-shirt stretched tight across his pecs and biceps.

‘I didn’t really want that glass of verdelho anyway,’ Lizzie murmured. When she looked up at his face, because it was impossible not to, she noticed the colours of his beard were like autumn, a mix of jet black, coppery red and grey, framing full lips. His eyes, unsmiling, deep green now and almost black, held her.

‘Hold on,’ he said. Dan slipped one arm around her knees and the other around her waist and lifted her like it was no effort at all.

‘What are you doing?’ she demanded.

‘What does it look like?’ he replied tersely.

Lizzie felt a big bass drum beating inside her chest and wondered if he could hear it, feel it through her skin. This shouldn’t have felt like a safe place to be but it was. Her arm automatically came to rest around his shoulders and she let herself feel the strength in his solid chest, pressing against her.

And then she couldn’t help herself. With her left hand, Lizzie touched his beard, the tips of her fingers gently stroking it. She’d expected it to be prickly and rough but it was soft. She caressed it gently, from his jaw to his chin, spreading out her fingers to press her palm to his face. Something happened. There was a sharp intake of breath. A flare in his eyes. The heat from his body cranked up and Lizzie felt it flame right through her own.

Dan pulled her slightly closer. ‘You right?’ His voice was rough, barely there.

‘Yes,’ she murmured. She tightened her grip on him, bringing her left arm around his chest to hold on more securely. The move pressed her breasts up against him and her nipples tightened. Something stirred in her that felt like a slow-burning firecracker.

‘You might get hurt,’ he said.

Oh, way too late for that buddy
.

‘On the broken glass.’ Dan carried her from the kitchen towards the carpeted living room. With each slow and sure step, their bodies pressed and moved against each other. That slow-burning firecracker was about to explode into starry streaks of technicolour sexual desire.

Dan lowered her legs first and she slid from his grasp, thigh to thigh, her hip teasing along his stomach, her breasts rubbing against his arm, her nipples achingly hard. She let her hands linger on his muscular shoulders, down his strong arms to his wrists and fingers. There was something so beautiful about his arms, she realised. Maybe it was the first glass of wine that had her asking herself what it would be like to run her fingers along all that hard muscle. It was definitely the second that had her considering what it would be like to have sex with Dan McSwaine.

Right here. Right now.

Lizzie exhaled, strong and loud. Dan was watching her every move with dark eyes. And the realisation hit her.
He’s thinking the same thing. Dan McSwaine is wondering about having sex with me, too
. She could see it right there, plain in his face, in the way his fists clenched at his sides, in the heave of his chest, up and down, in and out with each inhalation of breath.

‘You’re safe now.’ Dan took a step back, plunged his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans.

‘Thanks.’ Lizzie forced a smile. When she returned to the kitchen, broom and dustpan in her hands, he was there waiting.

‘Here.’ Dan reached out to her. ‘Give me the broom.’

‘You don’t have to. I dropped the glass. It’s my fault.’

But he wrapped his fingers around the broom handle and teased it from her grasp. ‘Elizabeth, let me help. If I hadn’t barged in and scared you shitless, you’d be enjoying that glass of wine now instead of mopping it up. It’s the least I can do.’

Ten minutes later, they’d swept up the shards of glass, mopped up the wine and Lizzie had stored everything back in the laundry. When she returned to the kitchen, Dan stood staring out through her glass doors, looking out to her deck and beyond to the star-brightened sky. At the sound of her footsteps, he turned his head and looked over his broad shoulder to her.