Page 68 of Between Two Shores

“When I let my hair out later tonight, it will be springy. Then by the next day, it calms into a nice wave.”

“Your hair is beautiful however you wear it. Cute in a ponytail.”

“Thanks.” Was that what she should say? His undivided attention and compliments unnerved her a little. Had Nancy put him up to this? Treating her like a queen? She liked it, nonetheless.

The waiter approached, refilled their water glasses, and collected their empty plates.

Lachlan thanked the waiter, then turned to her. A serious expression came over his features. “I have an apology to make.” He laced his fingers.

What now? Had he changed his mind about coming to Australia? She gulped air.

“I should’ve kept in contact with you. I could have . . . even video called regularly.” He flicked his gaze at the patrons nearby, then back to her.

“Go on. Why didn’t you?” She leaned in with focus on every word.

Lachlan placed his hands under the table and leaned his chest against the edge. “I found you to be a big distraction.” His cheeks reddened. “And I’ve been hurt before. I should’ve given you the benefit of the doubt. I feel so bad that we lost hope in us. Then you moved on . . . and Nick took advantage of your trust. Now, you’ll probably be like I was, disbelieving . . .”

She touched his arm. “I still believe it’s possible to meet a faithful guy. I’ll just take my time before making any life-long decisions.”

Lachlan let out a loud sigh and sat straighter. “Well, that’s out in the open. Let’s get on with enjoying the night.” He lifted his wine glass and took a sip.

“Thanks for explaining.” She tucked a curl behind her ear. “I did wonder why you went cold. Makes perfect sense.” She smiled. “And it’s my stupid fault for trusting Nick.” But perhaps things would’ve been different if she’d known there was a possibility of more with Lachlan. Too late for regrets.

The music changed from a slow jazz to an upbeat funky bass. A good distraction to lift her mood. She did a silly jig, waving her hands.

Lachlan laughed. “Do you like to dance?” He raised a brow.

“I like to groove in my car with the stereo loud—when no one is looking.”

“There’s a dance floor between the restaurant and the casual bar around the corner.” He grinned. “I’d like to see your moves.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “They aren’t that great. I’d win the daggy dance competition if there was one.”

He stood and approached her side of the table, holding out a hand. “Would you like to dance?”

She fluttered her lashes in surprise. “Now?”

“Why not, between courses? One dance won’t hurt.” Irresistible—the warm sparkle in his eyes.

“All right.” She took his hand and stood. They passed the bar, and Lachlan told the staff to hold their next entrée for a while.

They stepped onto a small stage floor that had a disco ball circling above. No one else danced as it was early in the night. A few glances came from distant patrons, but they continued eating or became engrossed in conversation.

The music slowed again, presenting more saxophone and piano. Lachlan slipped his hand around her waist, and her breath hitched as he drew her close. The mesmerizing scent of something like geranium and musk emanated from his shirt collar. He held her other hand and bent his elbow, closing the space between them. Oh, she could melt in a puddle right now. Lachlan Peters, what are you doing?

He swayed her side to side in time with the music, and her eyes drifted to a close. A flute flowed into the mix, and she relaxed into Lachlan. His head dipped slightly, pressing his short beard to her cheek, allowing his warm breath to caress her neck. They danced the whole song like that, then another jazz number played.

A deep feminine vocal began, “I never knew what real love was, the kind a girl dreams of . . . love that lasts and never ends . . .” Oh, no. This would make her cry. Lachlan’s hand slid a little above her waist, snapping her focus toward his fingers brushing her skin. He hugged her tight, conveying security and strength. Was he trying to tell her something from the way he held her? He wasn’t one to let her go.

The lyrics continued, “searched all of my life . . . then you entered my world . . . I struggled to believe . . . could it really be?” Lachlan placed her hand on his shoulder and palmed her waist, embracing her in an intimate hug. She laced her arms over his shoulders. He nuzzled into her neck, a touch below her earlobe, sending tremors down her spine.

The saxophone soloed for a few beats, then the woman sang, “Stuck by my side . . . showed me true love . . . I can’t let you go . . . now I found you. . . you’re the man of my life . . . I can count on you.” Oh, she wanted to believe it. But could she?

Lachlan’s thighs brushed hers as he led her in a slow semi-circle. She’d never danced with someone like this. Back in high school, she’d accompanied friends to the balls, and had once gone with a guy, but they hadn’t danced together. Nick hadn’t taken her dancing. They hadn’t been together long enough. Was this what it was like to be on the rebound? The thought of Nick didn’t ignite feelings of guilt and longing. Once she’d sighted Lachlan, all of that disappeared. Only the dread of facing her friends and colleagues back home remained. What she’d felt for Nick hadn’t been real love.

The last lingering notes of the song cued the end, but she didn’t want Lachlan to stop holding her. Would he stay for one more dance? They should get back to their meal.

He whispered, “That was a long song blended into two. But you seemed to enjoy it.”

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