Bad Boys Down Under by Nancy Warren

Author:Nancy Warren [Warren, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Anthologies
ISBN: 9780758205919
Google: 9GOONvz5FfYC
Amazon: B004JZX1EO
Barnesnoble: B004JZX1EO
Goodreads: 104565
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2003-12-31T11:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Six

Lise was acting really weird. Almost like she was new at this. Was it possible his party girl didn't party?

Whatever it was, he liked Lise a lot better in some decent walking shoes than those tippy-tappy things that all but hobbled her. Since he'd already had more than a fair glimpse of her upper body, he was pleased that her shorts were on the short side and showed off a pair of nice legs. They were long, and a bit on the slim side, but then so was Lise, and pale as though she either slathered on sunscreen or didn't get out much.

He was beginning to wonder which it might be.

They rode the elevator, and Lise seemed as preoccupied as he was so they didn't talk, but he couldn't help but notice the faint glow on her cheeks or the way her small breasts rose and fell under a T-shirt that interestingly enough didn't sport a single logo. They exited the elevator and strode across the lobby, her stride not so very much shorter than his now she was wearing proper shoes.

"Taxi, Mr. Jackson?"

He glanced at Lise, but she shook her head.

"No thanks, Ralph," he said.

"You know the doorman?" she asked when they were out of range.

"Well, not intimately. I know his name and he knows mine, though I tell you I wish he'd stop calling me Mister. It gives me a funny feeling. Still, he's a nice bloke. Helps me with directions and places to go."

"Oh. You've probably already been to the Wharf."

"Well, yeah. Lots of good spots to eat, though."

They settled on an unimposing little place that served fantastic hot pot. It was the sort of place she went with a friend on a weeknight for good food and a comfortable atmosphere, but it wasn't the sort of place she'd take a client. Or a date she wanted to impress with her good taste and trendiness.

She was so screwed. Unless he believed that the trendy people of San Francisco wore a lot of tweed and denim, her rep as a trendsetter was done for.

Steve didn't seem to care who else was in the restaurant. He glanced around and nodded, visibly relaxing. "I like this place," he said. "It's comfortable. I won't spend all night worrying about which fork to use."

"And the food's great."

Once they'd ordered and he had a beer and she a glass of red wine, there was a pause.

In his well-washed T-shirt, she was reminded of his incredible torso. His arms were tanned and bulged in a mouthwatering way. Cynically, she knew he probably paid a fortune in personal training, owned his own tanning bed, and had his hair retouched every couple of weeks, but just for the moment she was falling for the fantasy that nature had actually endowed one man with so much. Some of the sun-smooched hair and muscles had to be from surfing. At least she hoped so.

"So, have you been surfing all your life?" she asked him.

"Well, I know how, but no.

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