Page 18 of Covert

With a defiant toss of her hair, she said, “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t checked it out.” She paused to nudge him with her elbow. “Yet.”

His chuckles followed her down the hallway and out to the car, where she leaned against the door and tried her best to look nonchalant.

“By the way, you look great.” He opened the passenger door for her, a waft of spicy aftershave washing over her and sending her already reeling senses spiralling dangerously out of control.

“Thanks. See? How hard was that, getting into the friendship zone?”

Sam didn’t hear his muttered reply as she slid into the car and he closed the door before moving around to the driver’s side.

“So, where are we off to?”

“Dinner at Southbank, a cruise up the Yarra, coffee on the observation deck of the Rialto.” He paused. “And anything else that takes your fancy.”

She risked a quick glance at him, noting the relaxed shoulders, the slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. She’d never seen him this laidback and it scared her.

She wanted this. She’d just demanded it. But she hadn’t factored in that if she couldn’t resist him at his stern, business best, she had no hope with this new,friendlyDylan.

“Let’s just take it as it comes, okay?”

“Sounds good to me,” he said, and she wondered if she heard his sigh of relief or she imagined it.

He drove with the expertise of a man used to handling the large SUV and she wondered if he had any faults. She’d never met a man who exuded such confidence in everything he did. She was almost jealous of his self-assurance when she was still finding her way in the world.

He pointed out several landmarks as he drove, saving her from making conversation. If she thought working in the confines of a den had been difficult, being enclosed in a car with a man who smelled good enough to eat did strange things to her insides.

Once they were settled at an intimate table for two at a plush seafood restaurant, had ordered their meal, and had their wine glasses filled, he focused his attention on her.

“Tell me the Samantha Piper story.”

Almost choking on her wine, Sam cleared her throat and made a lightning fast decision to stick to as much of the truth as possible.

“Not much to tell. I come from a fairly conservative family, with five brothers who are major pains. I’ve done a business degree, but I’d prefer to get some hands-on life experience before I pursue a career in the field.”

“Five brothers?” His eyebrows rose. “Bet your dates get a rough time.”

She rolled her eyes, remembering the painful interrogations, the endless probing for information the few guys she’d dated had to endure. “Don’t remind me.”

“So, how many dates were there?” He pinned her with a fierce stare, as if trying to drag her darkest and deepest secrets from her.

She shrugged and bit back a grin. “I lost count after the first fifty.”

“You can’t be serious?” Appalled, his eyes widened, and she bit back a laugh.

“Deadly.” She smiled and mentally counted the men she’d had the misfortune to go out with on one hand. None had measured up to the man sitting opposite her, and for one, brief second she wished they’d met under different circumstances.

There was no way she could allow anything serious to develop between them, not when her presence in his life was based on a lie. “Why are you so interested in my life story anyway?”

“It pays to know who I’m working with.”

He avoided her eyes and Sam knew he was hiding something. Someone had burned him before and the memory still lingered, intensifying her guilt at deceiving him.

“Speaking of work, when do we leave for Budgeree?” She tried to sound casual, thankful to move the topic of conversation onto safer ground.

“In the next few weeks.” He sipped his wine and leaned back, the earlier tension while he’d been grilling her gone. “Funny, I didn’t pick you to be the outback type. Are you sure you’re ready for the barren plains?”

“There you go again, trying to figure out what ‘type’ I am. So tell me, what is the outback type? Brawny women in flannel checkered shirts and jodhpurs, cracking whips and rounding up their men along with the cattle?”

“Nice stereotype.” He chuckled. “I picked you to be a city girl. Something in the way you dress… ” He trailed off as his gaze skimmed her top, lingering a second too long on her cleavage, before returning to her face.

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