Chapter Nine

Izzy

Hal’s staring at me. I can’t see his eyes, so I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but I think I’ve shocked him.

He lifts his glasses then onto the top of his hair. His dark eyes are lighter in the sunshine, a beautiful glossy brown. “You think I just want sex,” he says. “Christ, Izzy. You have an incredibly low opinion of me, don’t you?”

I blink a few times, then remember he can’t see my eyes either, so I slide my glasses off. The sun’s incredibly bright, but the oak tree dapples it, casting us both in a complex pattern of light and shadows.

“You don’t want sex?” I say, puzzled.

He rolls his eyes and stares off to the side as if he’s thinking Jesus, this woman’s going to be the death of me. “Well, yeah.” His eyes come back to mine and now they hold a touch of amusement. “Of course I want to have sex with you. I mean I don’t just want sex.”

Heat rises inside me, even though I’m in the shade, and my face grows hot. Hal’s eyes widen, and now he looks incredibly amused. “Well, well,” he says, almost as if to himself, “that’s a first.”

I haven’t blushed for years, probably since I was in my teens. I clear my throat. “What do you mean, you don’t just want sex?”

He tips his head to the side, and he gives me a look of puzzlement. “I want much more than that, Izzy.”

I stare at him. “Why?”

He looks away then, across the field. I study his profile. My heart doesn’t seem to know whether to stop dead or race at a million miles an hour. I thought he was saying he wanted to get me into bed. That he wanted us to sleep together, maybe to see what it was like. I know he’s had one-night stands in the past. Maybe not for the last couple of years, but there were plenty of girls coming, pardon the pun, and going, while we were at uni.

He seems to be thinking about how to phrase what’s on his mind. He’s so witty and self-effacing, plus he’s so big and clumsy and he knocks everything over, that I forget sometimes how intelligent he is.

In New Zealand, for the veterinary program at Massey University, there are over three hundred applicants for one hundred places. It’s a complicated selection process, and you have to complete eighty hours of veterinary clinic practice, pass all the courses, and achieve a minimum grade point average to be selected for the professional phase. A selection score is calculated based on all those aspects, and students are ranked for selection in descending order based on that score.

I’m smart, and yet I only made it to fifteenth place in our year. Stefan was fourth.

Hal was top. So he’s a pretty bright guy.

Is it weird that I find his brain as sexy as his six-pack?

His gaze comes back to me. “Cards on the table?”

I nod slowly, even though I have no idea where this is going.

“You fascinate me,” he says. “You always have done. Look, I know what I’m like. I’m a King. We’re all the same. We can turn on the charm, and none of us has any trouble getting girls. I know when a woman likes me. There are signs. She plays with her hair. Leans toward me. Laughs a lot. Touches me on the arm. Makes eye contact. Gives me a sultry look.”

He turns and rests on the gate, facing me. His look is puzzled, intrigued. “You’re not like that. You’re the most composed person I’ve ever met. You’re quiet. Competent. Gentle. Efficient. Kind, but tough. You work incredibly hard. I think I know you better than almost anyone, but I don’t know you at all, really, because you’re very private. You keep yourself hidden, physically and emotionally.” He gestures at my long-sleeved shirt.

“So… you’re curious? You want to peek behind the curtain and see the wizard? Is that it?”

“I want to get to know you. The real you. The private you. It’s as if every other woman in the world is made of glass but you’re opaque, and I want to discover what’s behind the smoked glass. I can’t stop thinking about you, Izzy. Other girls chatter away and tell you everything that’s going through their minds, but you just look at me and I can see all the thoughts whirring away behind your eyes and I want to know what they are.”

He moves a little closer to me, although he still doesn’t touch me. “I want to understand you. I want to be the one you talk to at night, about your dreams and your fears. I want to hold you in the dark, Izzy. I want to be the one you turn to. I want you to be mine.”

He’s speaking softly, his voice little more than a whisper. His eyes are almost glowing with passion, and I feel locked inside them—I can’t look away. My lips have parted, and I can hear my heart loud in my ears. I feel spellbound.

It occurs to me that this is how Miss Daisy must have felt when he held her in the van. “Stop it,” I whisper furiously.

His eyes widen. “What?”

“I’m not one of your wounded animals,” I tell him fiercely. “I don’t need you to go all Dog Whisperer on me. Stop doing it.”

“Izzy,” he says patiently, “you know I don’t actually have a switch I can turn on and off, right? I’m not doing anything. I’m just being me.”

I stare at him as I realize that yes, I did believe he could somehow switch the magic on and off. But I’ve been thinking about him all wrong. The magic isn’t something he utilizes when he needs it. It’s a part of him, as much as the brown hair ruffling in the breeze and his beautiful dark eyes.

“Honey,” he says, “haven’t you ever wondered what we’d be like together? We get on so well. We’re three-quarters married anyway! Don’t you think it would be fun to explore that last, fun quarter?”

I’m well and truly flummoxed. “The last quarter?”

“To be intimate, Izzy. To be a true couple. Half our customers and I’m sure even some of the staff think we’re together anyway. It’s always irritated Rosie, although she doesn’t know how I feel about you.”

To be intimate… I’ve never let myself think about it. I’m not a woman who enjoys window shopping. I have no interest in spending my life lost in wistful longing. I’ve had Hal’s friendship, and I’ve been more than thankful for that over the years.

And now… he’s offering more.

He reaches out, hesitates, then touches the back of his fingers to my cheek. “Tell me you’re not interested, and I’ll leave you alone, and we’ll go back to being friends.” He brushes his fingers against my skin, then drops his hand. I have to suppress a shiver at his touch.

Despite the heat, I feel frozen to the spot. I don’t know what to say. “I don’t want to lose you,” I whisper.

“Why would you lose me?”

“Hal… It would never work.”

“Why?”

I don’t know how to put it into words. “You’re…”

He raises his eyebrows. “I’m what?”

“You. You’re you, Hal. You’re so warm and gregarious and friendly. It’d be like the sun and moon trying to get it on.”

His lips curve up. He’s enjoying watching me try to explain myself.

I can’t think how to phrase it. I couldn’t possibly have a relationship with this guy. I meant what I said—he’s like the sun. I can only cope with the amount of heat he generates by making sure I orbit him at a suitable distance. If I get too close—if he was to turn up the heat on the way he’s looking at me by even a fraction—I’d turn molten inside. I’d self-combust and there’d be nothing left of me except my smoking shoes.

I couldn’t let him kiss me. Have his mouth on mine. He likes sex and there’s no way he wouldn’t want to take me to bed. Oh holy Jesus, how on earth would I survive that?

Hector nudges his arm, and he laughs and rubs the horse’s nose. “Hector’s giving us his approval,” he tells me.

“No he’s not. He wants more peppermints.”

Hal smiles. Then he moves up close to me.

“Don’t you want me, Izzy?” he murmurs. “Haven’t you ever thought about kissing me? Going to bed with me?”

“I haven’t dared.”

He looks slightly puzzled and a little wistful, and brings up a hand to cup my face. I hold my breath, thinking that he’s going to kiss me—I don’t want him to do that. Yes, I do. No, I don’t. I think I’d faint.

But he doesn’t. He studies my face, looking deeply into my eyes. I feel as if he’s opened the top of my head, and he’s rummaging around in all the dusty storage boxes and trunks I keep up there, looking for something, I don’t know what. I think there are only bats and cobwebs in there now.

Eventually, he drops his hand. “Why don’t we start slowly?” he says. “Come out on a date with me.”

“A date?” My lips curve up. “You want to take me to the prom?”

“You don’t have to be a teenager to date. It’s a slow, steady way to get to know each other better. We can go to dinner. Learn what each other likes.”

“You’ll have steak. See? I know you pretty well already.”

He doesn’t react. “I know you’re going to try to talk your way out of this,” he tells me. “You’re going to brush me off repeatedly. Make jokes. You’re scared; I don’t know why. I want to find out why, though. And I’m not going to give up. I want you, Isabel Fitzgerald, and when I put my mind to something, I usually get what I want.” He grins. “Don’t glare at me. So, dinner? Tonight, seven thirty? I’ll pick you up from Albie’s house.”

I feel a touch of panic. Christ, this is so far out of my comfort zone it’s not funny.

His expression softens. “Don’t look so terrified. It’s going to be fun.”

I decide to be honest. “I haven’t dated for a long time. I’m out of practice. I don’t know how to.”

“It’s easy, Izzy. We’ll talk, eat, have a drink. Maybe we’ll even hold hands.”

He’s teasing me, I think. “We hold hands all the time,” I tell him, thinking of how often he grabs my hand when we’re crossing the square, although I acknowledge it’s usually to steer me around something.

“Not like this.” He takes my hand in his. Then he lifts it. He moves it until our elbows are resting on the gate. He puts our palms together and splays our fingers. Then he interlinks them, closing his around mine.

I stand there in the dappled sunshine, listening to a seagull cry overhead, while Hector nuzzles my pocket looking for peppermints, and I look at the way Hal’s brown fingers are curled around mine. Such an innocent touch. There’s nothing remotely sexual about it. He touches me all the time. And yet it’s so different. It’s the intention, I realize, the meaning behind the touch that changes the sensation. He brushes his thumb across mine, watching me, and then his thumb drops and grazes across the inside of my wrist and the base of my palm.

His eyes are warm and gentle. I can’t shake the feeling I’m being Dog Whispered. He’s spinning his magic, turning straw to gold around me.

For the first time in my life, I accept the truth. I’m crazy about this guy. I always have been. I can’t say no to him.

“Tonight,” he murmurs. “Seven thirty.”

I give a tiny nod.

“All right.” He releases my hand, and I don’t know whether to be sad or relieved. “I’ve got an appointment, so I ought to go back. I’ll see you tonight.” He hesitates, and again I wonder whether he’s going to kiss me.

He leans forward, and I hold my breath.

But his lips just touch my forehead. “See you later.” And then he turns away, and he heads back toward the Ark.

I watch him go, then turn and start walking around the paddock, not wanting him to look back and see me staring after him longingly. But my heart is racing, and my fingers are still tingling from the memory of his touch.

This is a crazy idea. It’s never going to work.

But it doesn’t matter. I can’t say no to him. New Zealand lies on a fault line of two tectonic plates, and I can feel the ground shifting beneath me, the tremors through my body. He’s like a natural force, like the wind and rain, strong and powerful and beautiful.

I just hope he doesn’t destroy me.