When Only Diamonds Will Do

‘You’ll see.’

She shrugged again, as if to say she didn’t give a damn one way or the other, and walked out with him.

An hour and a delicious mushroom omelette later, Kim looked around at the rustic restaurant he’d brought her to and said ruefully, ‘You were right. Sorry. I feel much better.’

‘Good. Is that all it was? A lack of food.’

‘Don’t start that again,’ she warned, then grimaced as she recalled her turmoil of the night before. ‘Not entirely, but I do find it hard to be miserable for long.’

‘Miserable?’ He frowned.

‘Confused. Not one hundred per cent sure what game you’re playing, Mr Richardson, put it that way.’

He raised an eyebrow and waited. When she offered no more, he said questioningly, ‘Game?’

‘I can’t work out whether you’re trying to seduce me or not.’

Their gazes clashed.

‘There’s a certain—’ she moved her hands around each other ‘—stop/start approach you employ that I find a bit strange.’

‘Are you suggesting we should jump into bed?’

Kim smiled but there was a touch of frost to it. ‘No. But perhaps I should let you know that the disapproval and reserve is not all on your side.’

‘That’s what you think it is—disapproval?’

‘Yes. Besides which, I have the feeling you’re a loner at heart!’ She said it almost jauntily.

‘Would you prefer it if you had to fight me off?’ he asked.

‘Naturally not. Look, I’ve had enough of this conversation—you’ll have me all gloom and doom again if we’re not careful. Show me your sketches,’ she commanded.

He pulled some papers out of his jacket pocket and handed them over to her.

She smoothed them out. ‘Hmm …’ she said eventually. ‘Not bad. Do you have any preferences?’ She opened her hands. ‘Do you like your art conventional, for example, or could you live with a bit of—’ she broke off and smiled suddenly ‘—wackiness?’

He stirred his coffee thoughtfully. ‘I don’t mind a bit of wackiness.’

‘Good,’ she approved briskly. ‘Do you have any pet hates? For example, I don’t like—sorry, I know you love it—but I don’t like seascapes. With a passion.’

He looked amused. ‘Why not?’

‘I’m not sure. Perhaps you just can’t capture the movement of the sea in paint. Any of those dislikes—or anything you particularly like?’

He rubbed his jaw. ‘I’ve seen some Aboriginal art that has a sort of mysterious power that draws you in—it’s hard to describe but it makes you feel it’s alive.’

Kim put her cup down and sat up, her expression heavy with frustration. ‘Why on earth didn’t you tell me this sooner?’

‘You have access to it?’

She nodded. ‘I have friends who get right to the source, painters who still live in their traditional areas and are able to transfer the sheer magic—’ she clenched a hand and her face glowed ‘—of their culture onto canvas.’ She opened her purse and pulled out her phone. ‘Hold thumbs they’re not out in the desert.’

They weren’t out in the desert so Kim took Reith to their gallery and they spent nearly the whole of the rest of the day going through canvases, making choices and deciding on frames.

Finally, he suggested dinner.

Kim agreed but told him she’d like to shower and change. ‘And don’t worry about sending me around in great big black limousines,’ she told him. ‘It doesn’t do much for my mood. Anyway, I’m used to driving in and out of Bunbury.’

He looked at her, smiling. ‘OK. What do you suggest restaurant-wise?’

She thought for a moment, then she told him with a toss of her head that she had a craving for pasta and nothing else would do. She also named a restaurant.

‘So be it,’ he said gravely.

Kim suffered a moment’s disquiet. ‘Do you like pasta? If you don’t I suppose we could—’

‘It would not be game to dislike pasta,’ he broke in to say.

She looked disconcerted for a moment, then pulled a face at him and retreated to her car.

A couple of hours later, she parked her car in Bunbury and walked towards the restaurant.

She’d changed into a long, floaty flame-coloured dress streaked with white, and nude platform shoes. She’d left her hair loose and she carried a boxy little gold bag.

Reith was waiting for her and she walked towards him with her long free stride and her dress billowing around her, only to slow down then come to a stop a couple of feet away from him.

She shivered suddenly as his dark gaze roamed up and down her. Because there was something completely riveted about him and the way he was examining her body. In fact, she got the feeling she was naked beneath that compelling gaze, that he’d mentally undressed her, even dispensing with her underwear, and it was tense, yet, at the same time, incredibly erotic. It sent her pulses racing and tremors of desire running through her.