Australian Boss: Diamond Ring: Australian Boss: Diamond Ring

In her boots with the three-inch heel, she stood almost nose to nose with him. Brent wanted to trace all her dips and curves with his fingertips.

It had to be his autism speaking, a need for a tactile exploration to feed his thought processes the answers they sought.

Sure. You believe that, MacKay.

‘Your flat keys. I found them on your desk after you left.’ That was his reason for finding her here. Only that. ‘You might have spares somewhere, but I didn’t know.’

‘I do have a spare set. In my desk at work. Oh, of all the silly things for me to do!’ Her gaze searched his face. ‘I’m so sorry you had to chase me down. I don’t have my mobile turned on, either. It’s a waste of time in here because I wouldn’t hear it ring. How did you know—?’

‘I heard you mention the name of this place when you were on your mobile phone as you were leaving. There’s no need to apologise. I couldn’t have left you without your keys to get into your home.’

Fiona’s mouth softened. ‘Thank you.’

Just two simple words, and he leaned towards her. Brent straightened and his head tipped to the right. ‘Ah—’

She was returning his glance, was as aware of him in this moment as he was of her, and Brent’s need to protect his privacy fought with his need…for her.

But for what? To explore physical attraction with her? Because that was all he could want, wasn’t it? For him, intimacy—true intimacy that involved opening up and letting someone else in was…out of the question.

And have you asked yourself why that is, MacKay? Why you’re so determined to keep people at arm’s length?

Brent knew the answer. He was different, and his ‘different’ wasn’t something people, generally, would be able to accept. So he kept it to himself. He was happier that way. Comfortable.

Safe?

It wasn’t about that. And he had every right to value his privacy, for whatever reasons he wanted to. And there was nothing else behind the way he felt. Nothing.

Fiona’s gaze searched his eyes.

Brent stared into deep blue irises until he felt the stares of some of her friends on him.

She looked past him and seemed to force a casual smile. ‘Everyone, this is my boss, Brent MacKay.’

A round of introductions followed. It gave Brent a chance to settle his reactions to her.

So why did they continue to simmer beneath the surface of every word, every exchange and glance? Rejecting those reactions should be as easy as deciding they weren’t in his best interests or, in fact, in hers. Brent had already decided that, so why…? ‘I should get going.’

‘Would you like to—?’ She stopped, clamped those soft lips together.

Brent drew her keys from his pocket and, when she held out her hand, dropped them into it.

‘Thank you.’ Her fingers curled over the keys before she snagged her bag from the back of a chair and dropped them into it. ‘Please, let me at least…I don’t know…Can I buy you a drink or something? I feel awful, putting you out this way. We could go to the bar. I see a few spaces over there. Most people are on the dance floor right now, I think.’

The bar stretched across the entirety of the far wall beyond the dance area. It was further from the music than the tables here. Brent’s voice emerged as a low growl of sound. ‘A drink would be…nice.’

He’d led her halfway around the dance floor before he registered that his choice might not have been particularly smart.

When they reached the bar, they ordered drinks and Fiona watched Brent from the corner of her eye in the bar mirror and saw the way they looked together.

A dark head and a fair one. A lean, strong face and a soft womanly one. They looked right to her, side by side this way.

The image reached past her defences, left them in the dust, left her wanting deep silent things she couldn’t want, couldn’t let herself admit.

What did Brent want?

Nothing you can pin hopes on, Fiona. Remember that.

‘I hope chasing me down with my keys hasn’t interfered with other plans of yours.’ She didn’t quite meet his gaze. ‘That is…it’s none of my business of course…I simply didn’t want to take you away from—’

A girlfriend? A lover waiting for him somewhere? The thought stung, yet it wasn’t her business, was it?

‘You might have come here with someone—?’

He spoke almost when she did, and then stopped, and their gazes met and held and the atmosphere between them thickened into silently acknowledged curiosity and a certain comprehension.

‘I don’t…’

‘There’s no one.’ Fiona’s heart began to beat more heavily in her chest.

They both lowered their gazes to their drinks, sipped.

Brent’s face tightened as he looked up at her again. ‘This—’

‘I’ve been thinking about the Doolan project.’ Fiona rushed the words out and took another fortifying sip of her lemon mineral water. If she made it all about work they could forget those moments looking into each other’s eyes in a mirror.

Could forget the warmth and consciousness in their eyes, the desire that when they faced each other in reality, they both worked hard to hide.

A part of her wanted to see it again, even though following that path with him could only lead to hurt for her because he would do what every other man had done.

He would go cold on the idea of her sooner or later. He’d already shown the capacity for that.

So talk about work, Fiona, and ease through these moments and then let him go. ‘I know the couple are at loggerheads with each other in their personal lives, but I thought I might have an idea to keep both of them happy with our project plans.’

‘Go on. I’m interested in any contribution you want to make.’ It was clear he meant this.

And perhaps equally clear that he welcomed the change of topic to a work-related subject as much as she told herself she must take the conversation there.

The little sting of hurt was foolish and incidental, and she did her best to ignore its impact. ‘If we use either of the couple’s suggested overall ideas for the project, one of them is likely to resent the result.’

‘It will be one more thing for them to argue about, and our company might get caught in the middle of that altercation.’ His lashes formed thick crescents against his cheeks as he briefly dipped his gaze.

There was something almost vulnerable in that sight, and that made Fiona vulnerable as she softened towards him.

Maybe they needed to be at loggerheads so she could stop being so conscious of him as a man. Because, whether she wanted to be or not, she was, and, though she felt that same vibe back from him, he was her boss and he seemed determined not to notice her even if he was noticing her.

Oh, she had to stop this analysing!

Brent cast a wry smile her way. ‘So do you think you and I could agree on something that might satisfy both of them?’