Cracking the Dating Code (4 page)

‘I’ll just…head back,’ she murmured. Probably for the best. Otherwise she might be forced to commit to memory yet another close-up view of all that rippling muscle and sun-browned skin.

‘You go ahead. I’ll be up in a minute.’

Not a lot of urgency about him but then maybe he didn’t have cause to be. Maybe getting ready to go cap an offshore oil rig took time. She glanced at the shark again. Resisted the urge to step a little closer to Sebastian. It was a very strong urge and it took her by surprise. Poppy rarely had the urge to step closer to anyone. Probably the presence of the shark. Nothing whatsoever to do with the
way Seb himself seemed to slide right past her defences as if they didn’t exist. ‘Looks like he’s getting ready to leave,’ she said.

‘They do that.’

Hard to tell if Sebastian was all front, dry fact or a bit of both.

‘One more guess,’ he said as she headed for her quad, and there was something altogether dangerous in the smile he aimed her way. ‘
D
for
dashing
?
D
for
daring
?’

‘No,’ she murmured dulcetly. ‘The closest
non-D
word I can think of is
idiot.
’

Seb stayed on the beach for another five minutes or so after Poppy made her exit. He didn’t want to tail her all the way back to the house and he didn’t want to drive in front of her and leave her behind. Far easier to stay here and gut and scale his coral trout and get a grip on what he might say to Wendy when he finally got back up to the house and made that call. He’d want details, that was a given. He’d want to know whose drillships were nearby and who else, if anyone, was in a position to do the work. Maybe even the parent company could do it.

Which was just fine by him and a hell of a lot cheaper for them.

Seb made it back to the house eventually.

He slid his catch in the fridge and slapped a bit of cheese between two slices of bread by way of lunch and wondered about making Poppy a cheese sandwich too. In the end he decided yes, she’d taken time out of her day to come and find him, and if she was as besotted by numbers and computers as Tom was, and as desperate to get her work done as Tom suggested, it would have cost her to drag herself away from it.

A cheese sandwich for little Poppy, then, and a coffee to go with it, and he set them down on the drawing board in the office, and called to her the way he’d call to Tom.

‘Lunch,’ he said and she came out of her cave and shot him a wary smile and thanked him and took it back inside.

Obsessive.

When it came to her work, Poppy West was highly predictable.

His reaction to her presence was highly predictable too, but he’d toned it down—heaven help him, he had. Two days, maybe he could even manage three, and then he’d get them the hell off the island and then they would see.

Seb sat at his computer, took a sip of his scalding black coffee, closed his mind to the indecision that plagued him when it came to
both his work and the woman currently running his senses ragged and set about making a few calls.

H
E’D
brought her lunch.

The plainness of the fare shouldn’t have set Poppy’s stomach to fluttering, but it did, and Seb’s continued presence in the outer office as he spoke on the phone only made it flutter more. She heard him asking for details, and she got up and put Tomas’s headphones on and caught Seb’s eye as she half shut the door.

Shutting it completely was a very bad idea given the hardware in the room and the potential for overheating, but an earful of music she could do, and in doing so give him privacy in which to work and hopefully make him feel happier about her continued presence.

Easy to lose herself in her own work after that, and the challenge of a cipher that wasn’t designed to be broken without the right key.

The solution was very simple.

All she had to do was figure out what that right key might be.

It didn’t seem more than twenty minutes before Seb was knocking on the half-closed door, and Poppy looked round at him with a frown.

Seb rolled his eyes and approached her chair. Lifted one of her earphones and said in her ear, ‘It’s six o’clock, Poppy. You planning to work through the night or are you going to come and eat?’

Well, when he put it like that…

Poppy stood and stretched, and decided to let her latest attempt at cracking this thing keep on running. As for her hyper-awareness of Sebastian, it was still there, but running alongside it now was the surprising notion that she felt quite comfortable in his presence, in the same way she felt comfortable around family.

Not shy or awkward, or worse, trying not to be shy and becoming even more awkward. Just… he was treating her as if he already knew her ways and didn’t find them odd. No comment, no questions that made her feel like a freak—he just took her in his stride. How long had it been since anyone other than family had simply taken her in their stride?

Points for Seb. Especially seeing as she
hadn’t taken his eccentricities—like swimming with sharks, for example—in her stride at all.

‘What happened with the oil spill?’ she asked.

‘Not a lot. AMSA’s going to try and contain the slick but there’s no getting back onto the rig to do any assessment at the moment. It’s too dangerous.’

‘Who’s AMSA?’

‘The Australian Maritime Safety Authority.’

‘Will you get involved at a later date?’

‘Probably not. This particular parent company has the resources to do their own dirty work. We’re closer, but no one’s getting near the leak any time soon anyway. Cheaper for them to mobilise a drillship and a crew out of Singapore, even if it does take five weeks for them to get there. We’ll stay in the loop, though. Could be we’ll be needed. How’d your work go today?’

‘Bad.’ They’d reached the kitchen and suddenly she was starving. ‘What are you cooking?’

‘Fish stew.’

‘Like last night,’ she murmured.

‘Not like last night at all,’ he said, deadpan. ‘I added beans.’

Poppy smiled as she peered into the pot of fragrant, coconut-milk-laden stew. Man was a comedian. ‘What else do you do around here for entertainment?’

‘Are you flirting with me?’

‘No.’ Her powers of flirtation had always been non-existent, ask anyone.

Not that Sebastian needed to know any of that. He was to some extent a clean slate. He didn’t know much about her at all.

‘Because you can if you want.’ He shot her a crooked smile. ‘Feel free.’

‘You want me to flirt with you,’ said Poppy slowly.

‘Only if you feel like it. Something to pass the time. Besides, it’s good practice.’

‘Practice?’ The beginnings of an idea flitted through Poppy’s brain. Poppy prided herself on being good at what she did. The best. And when it came to her work, a combination of natural aptitude and a great deal of practice had put her at the top. Could her uselessness at flirting really be addressed that simply? ‘You think I need practice?’

‘Hard to say,’ he murmured. ‘Do you?’

‘Maybe.’ Maybe a lot. ‘My sister, Lena, tried to show me how to flirt once. It didn’t end well.’

‘For you?’

‘For him. We were practising on the same boy, Trig, who’s a friend of my older brother’s. I wasn’t really interested in him and neither was Lena. He was just—’ Poppy waved her hand in the air ‘—there. In hindsight, we should probably have
told
him we were only practicing. We probably should have mentioned it to Jared too.’

‘Wonderful thing, hindsight,’ murmured Seb. ‘Let me guess. Trig flirted back with one of you, or both of you. Either way, your brother beat him up.’

‘No, Trig ignored us for all he was worth and
Lena
beat him up.’

‘Poor Trig. I appreciate his dilemma,’ offered Seb. ‘What did he do next? Run?’

‘No, he joined the special intelligence service. So did my brother. So did Lena, a year later. Trig and Lena’s arguments have escalated somewhat since then.’

‘Wonder why?’ murmured Seb.

‘Don’t we all.’ Poppy smiled impishly. ‘Trig worships the ground Lena walks on—not that he ever
mentions
it. The hope from those in the front-row seats is that one day Lena will realise it, return the favour and put him out of his misery. Not that Trig seems miserable. I think he’s enjoying it. You’re a man—how does that work?’

‘Ever been Marlin fishing?’

‘No.’

‘I’ll give you a clue. Lena’s the fish.’

‘Ew.’

‘So what does your older brother think of Trig’s dilemma?’

‘Hard to say. Jared’s missing. No one’s heard from him in nearly eight months.’ Poppy shoved her hands in the pocket of her cotton trousers as all thoughts of flirtation fled. ‘Are you hungry? I’m hungry.’

So he ladled stew into bowls and they ate standing at the counter and after that Seb offered up the island’s repertoire when it came to entertainment.

‘There’s a sudoko tablecloth around here somewhere,’ he said. ‘I could fish it out for you?’

‘No. I’m all numbered out.’

‘Game of 3-D chess? You’ll win. I’ll lose. I’ll get over it.’

‘If you already know you’ll lose, there’s no point playing.’

‘There’s a billiard table,’ he offered.

‘That could work,’ she said. ‘Movement would be good and it’s not too taxing on the mind. I estimate I have a good half an hour of billiards in me before catatonia takes hold.’

‘Well, hell, Miss Ophelia,’ he drawled, and
this time that reckless smile of his came out in full. ‘If it’s an intellectual challenge you’re after, I could always teach you how to flirt while we play.’

Half-six saw them in the billiards room, with the wind picking up outside and whitecaps dotting what they could see of the ocean. Which was plenty. Every room in this house had floor-to-ceiling windows and that breathtaking ocean view. They’d put the music on. A little bit of good ole boy rock, a little bit of southern-fried bluegrass. Poppy’s billiards beverage of choice was lemon-barley cordial. Sebastian had opted for maximum-kick cola. Both drinks were over ice. For now, at any rate, it appeared that Sebastian’s dance with the whisky bottle was done.

‘So we’re in a bar,’ said Sebastian conversationally as he chalked his cue. ‘And you see someone you wouldn’t mind getting to know a little better. What do you do next?’

‘So…you really
are
trying to teach me how to flirt?’ asked Poppy tentatively.

‘Just seeing what you’ve got.’

‘Oh.’ A smile spread through Poppy before she could stop it. It was the smile of a child who’d suddenly been given free run of the toy room. She couldn’t flirt to save herself and
she needed to practise, preferably somewhere private and with someone who was willing to teach her. An expert in the field. A person she didn’t recoil from. Someone who didn’t know how clueless she was when it came to this sort of thing.

Learning opportunities didn’t come much brighter than this.

‘So we’re in a bar and I see someone I wouldn’t mind getting to know a little better,’ she echoed thoughtfully, studying the break, which had been hers only it hadn’t exactly gone her way. ‘Do I know this person already?’

‘Assume no. What do you do next?’

‘I make eye contact,’ she said, making very good eye contact with the black.

‘And?’ he prompted.

‘Smile like I mean it.’

‘And?’

‘Isn’t that enough?’

‘Don’t you want to check out who he’s with?’ he asked.

‘Wouldn’t I have done that first?’ Sebastian leaned in to take the shot, his shaggy hair glossy black beneath the table light. ‘Made sure he wasn’t part of a couple?’

‘Depends,’ he said. ‘You might not care.’

‘I care,’ she murmured. ‘I’m looking for
a wedding ring. If he has one, I’ll move on. If he has a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, grandparents or children with him, I’ll move on.’ Poppy paused, and shot Seb a very level stare. ‘He has a wife, three kids, and a mother-in-law who’s not impressed. I’m turning away. Scanning the room for someone else I’d like to get to know.’

‘Good.’

‘There isn’t anyone.’

‘Now is not the time to be picky,’ said Sebastian. ‘You’re there to flirt, not marry the guy. Keep looking.’

‘All right, I’ve found one.’

‘What’s he look like?’

‘Interesting. He favours black, he’s drinking Limoncello and I like the spider-web tattoo on his skull. I feel I could use it as a talking point.’

‘Move on,’ said Sebastian, sparing her a quelling glance before sinking another solid-coloured ball.

Poppy blew her fringe from her eyes the better to admire his technique. ‘The barman’s kind of cute. Nice eyes. Brown. Smiley. Besides, I need a drink. This is nerve-racking.’

Holding her own in conversation with Seb was indeed nerve-racking, but there was a certain freedom that came with imaginary
flirting. Action without consequence. A safe learning environment. Poppy smiled.

‘Ouch,’ murmured Seb. ‘Killer smile. There’s something almost joyous about it. Innocent even. The barman’s heading your way at a dead run.’

‘Really?’

‘Never doubt it.’

‘What do I do now?’ she asked.

‘Tell him you’re in the mood for a single malt whisky, hold the ice. Ask him what he recommends.’

‘Is that your preferred poison? Whisky?’

‘Usually.’ Those green eyes of his were assessing. ‘Am I detecting a note of censure? Are you after knowing if I have a drinking problem?’

‘Do you?’ she asked quietly.

‘No. The way you found me the other morning was an exception, not the rule. Not that you have any real reason to take my word on that. You’re just going to have to wait and see.’

Poppy shrugged. ‘For what it’s worth, I believe you.’

‘Trusting,’ he murmured. ‘I’m starting to fear for your safety.’

‘Don’t be afraid,’ she said. ‘I’m asking for something with gin in it. The barman’s
suggesting either a gin fizz or a pink lady. I really don’t like either. I think it’s a sign. We may not be compatible.’

‘It’s not a sign. It’s a compliment. Tell him you’re not that sweet, give him another taste of that lethal smile and try not to lose eye contact. And don’t blush. You have a tendency to colour up when you’re thinking naughty thoughts and the minute you do you lose any advantage you might have gained.’

‘Maybe I
want
to lose the advantage,’ she offered mildly. ‘Maybe keeping the upper hand isn’t as important as making a connection. Maybe I’m inclined to look kindly on a man who can make me blush.’

‘You’re leaving yourself wide open,’ he muttered grimly. ‘I don’t like it.’

‘Well, fortunately, I’m not flirting with you,’ she countered coolly. ‘The barman’s offering to make me a Tom Collins. I’ve told him that’s perfect. He’s asking me if I’m new in town.’

Poppy studied the table, lined up the shot and sank it in one smooth movement. She could feel Sebastian’s gaze upon her but she didn’t look up. ‘I have his attention and you’re right. I don’t want to be too trusting or too naive. No one likes getting hurt.’

‘Finally she sees reason,’ he muttered. ‘Tell
him you’re just passing through. Ask him where’s a good place nearby to go and eat.’

‘What if I’m not hungry? What if I live nearby?’

‘Nobody’s saying you have to eat
now.
And you do
not
say you live nearby. It’s an opening. The barman will know what to do with it.’

Poppy played another shot. Striped ball to side pocket, with the white spinning off exactly where she wanted it.

‘Where’d you learn to play?’ asked Seb suspiciously.

‘My brother’s beach house. It’s his wet-weather entertainment when he’s really bored. We play for favours. He currently owes me three bathroom cleans and a deck oil.’

Her next shot ran fractionally wide of the pocket. Poppy sighed. This was what she got for paying attention to the breadth of a man’s shoulder and not the ball.

‘The barman’s giving me a bar menu. He’s moving away. No impromptu invitation to dine is forthcoming. He’s not interested.’

‘He’s making your drink. Relax, he’ll be back.’

‘Probably to take my fish and chip order,’ said Poppy. ‘I’m all flirted out. The barman
did not make me blush. You think he could make my Tom Collins to go?’

‘This isn’t working, is it? I’m not sure the barman was such a good choice for you. Let’s assume he gives you your drink and you pay him and return to your table. Some work colleagues are with you. Tom’s there and he’s smiling at you. What do you say?’

‘Why aren’t you at work?’ she said immediately.

‘Well, it’s a start,’ he muttered dryly.

‘The gin is gone,’ said Poppy. ‘And there’s no way I’m flirting with Tomas. I’m sorry to have misled you earlier, but I can’t do it. I value my working relationship with your brother far too much for that. He’d be impossible to replace. Flirting with Tomas is out. Even in an imaginary bar.’

‘Bear with me,’ said Seb. ‘Tom’s brother’s just walked in. Tom’s introducing him to you. What do you do?’

‘So…you want me to flirt with
you
now?’ Poppy eyed Sebastian uncertainly. ‘As in here by the billiard table? Or are we still in the imaginary bar?’

‘Doesn’t bother me.’ Sebastian’s grin came slow and easy and laid waste to any sensible conversation Poppy might have thought to be going on with.