When Mia meets her best friend's future brother-in-law she isn't expecting to feel an instant connection, nor for that bond to deepen in spite of almost a thousand kilometres between them. She loves her life and business in a small town in the Blue...
"Rugby? Please tell me you like one of the rugby codes at least. It would be un-Australian not to."
Her face told me she didn't and I groaned. "What sports do you like? And if you say chess or darts, I'm walking out of here this minute."
She giggled, a sweet, throaty peel that brought a grin to my face even as I felt a knot in the middle of my chest.
But then, my heart had been taking a pounding ever since I laid eyes on her earlier. Each time we'd met prior to this, her hair had been tied up; now it hung in a curtain of soft waves to below her shoulders and from the second I'd seen it I had wanted to run my fingers through it. As for her dress – Christ! It was designed to bring a man to his knees, obviously, clinging as it does to every luscious curve of thigh and hip and breast. The neckline alone has caused me a great deal of physical discomfort throughout the evening, allowing as it does a tantalising glimpse of full, high breasts that even without the evidence of touch I know will be soft as pillows and sleek as satin.
Her reply to my question pulls my thoughts away from the lustful and back to our conversation. "Tennis, motorcycle racing, netball, soccer...chess and darts." She accompanies the last two with a cheeky grin and glance from under her long lashes that is diabolically flirtatious. Laughing in response, I crumple up the small paper napkin that came with my drink and toss it at her, which makes her giggle again. "You're still here," she observes wittily.
"You redeemed yourself with tennis and motorcycle racing," I grin, "Two sports we have an abundance of in Melbourne, I might add, and at the highest skill levels."
"Are you working for the Tourism Commission now? Do you get paid for each new settler you entice to your southern sporting paradise?"
"The only reward necessary is that gained by bringing enlightenment to otherwise uncivilised cultures," I deadpan, pleased to see her laugh at my foolishness.
"You are so full of it," she says and just then our dessert arrives. Mia had chosen the Belgian Double Chocolate Fondant while I'd gone with the White Chocolate and Raspberry Crème Brulee. We tuck in, talking more of our preferred leisure activities – we discover we both like to clear our heads by running - while demolishing the sweet treats and when she turns down coffee afterwards, I hold her chair for her to stand, paying the bill while she freshens up then we head outside.
"We could take a water taxi back," I suggest, though I know from the journey here that she loves the ferry ride.
"I'm happy with the ferry if you are," she smiles, "and it's a nice night for a walk."
She's right, it is a nice night; the number of stars visible indicates clear skies and there's only a light breeze drifting off the harbour. Cockle Bay Wharf is fairly busy with diners like us heading to Nick's Seafood or one of the nearby cafés; across the shallow end of the bay the lights of the Hard Rock Café and various other eateries shine brightly and the sound of people enjoying themselves carries lightly across to us. We meander up towards the Aquarium and Madame Tussauds; beyond them lie more cafés and restaurants leading up to wharf 3 where the ferry comes in.
"Favourite movie ever?" she asks, continuing our conversation from the restaurant. "Please don't say 'The Godfather."
"What's wrong with 'The Godfather'?"
"Nothing a hole in the head wouldn't fix," she quips, and I stop dead in my tracks, looking at her in mock astonishment.
"Did you just diss the greatest movie of all time?" I ask then feel a punch in the gut when she tilts her head to one side and catches the tip of her tongue between her teeth. God, that's so sexy. The next words out of her mouth blow me away completely.
"'Never hate your enemies. It affects your judgement.'" What the hell? My jaw drops open as my mind reels – she's just gone from dissing the movie to quoting from it and I'm still trying to wrap my head around that when she adds, "'There are things that have to be done and you do them and you never talk about them. You don't try to justify them. They can't be justified. You just do them. Then you forget it.'"
Fuck. "Is this where you produce a machine gun and take me out?"
When she drawls "Maybe," it's all I can do not to reach out, take her in my arms and kiss her till she doesn't know up from down or left from right. But I've been waiting for a signal, a clear indication that my advances would be welcome, that I'm not the only one feeling this strange pull that's been puzzling me since it manifested itself on Saturday. There was that brief moment at her house, before my mother called and interrupted, when I thought she'd been drawn to me too, but...well, hell, I've been caught by mixed signals before. Why can't women come with an instruction manual?
The ferry isn't terribly full so we get a good seat outside in the bow. The wind has picked up and as we move across the harbour it becomes distinctly chilly; I see Mia shiver even though she's wrapped a shawl or something around herself, so I take off my jacket and drop it on her shoulders, feeling the silky touch of her hair as I do and noticing, not for the first time, that she's wearing a different perfume tonight. There's still a flowery note to it but something else hits the nose first, almost a fruity tang with a musky undertone. It suits her.
"Thank you, but now you'll get cold," she seems grateful and guilty at the same time.
"Pfft," I bluster, "real men don't feel the cold."
Her loud snicker caught the attention of a couple nearby, who looked and smiled before turning away. "Sure they don't," she drolls, a wry smirk on her face, "but just in case it does get a touch chilly in that man cave of yours, let me know and we can tag team with your jacket."
I can't help but laugh at her sass then we ride in companionable silence for a while. She'd said on the way over how much she loves the wind in her hair and I watch her now from the corner of my eye, seeing her lift her head to the breeze and close her eyes, just enjoying the sensation. As we round the headland in the middle of the shipping channel, before us looms the inspiring sight of Sydney Harbour Bridge and beyond that, the iconic Opera House, both lit up and dominating the skyline.
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"Do you have anything quite this breathtaking in Melbourne?" Mia murmurs, looking straight ahead.
"No, definitely not," I reply, but I'm not looking at the landscape.
