Mr Brighton stared right back at me and licked his bottom lip. “Um.” He cleared his throat. “Well, the museum awaits.”
I looked outside, only to find us parked out the front of the Queen Victoria Museum. I hadn’t even been aware we’d stopped moving, let alone arrived at my destination. “Oh, right.” I grabbed my satchel and quickly checked my watch. It was 11:55 a.m. I had five minutes to get inside. I quickly opened the door, then stopped. “You do know Da Vinci drew the very first design of a helicopter, hundreds of years before the Wright brothers designed the aeroplane, based on a dragonfly?”
The corner of his mouth drew up. “I knew that, yes.”
“So maybe the design was not so illogical after all.”
“Or maybe Da Vinci thought it was so illogical he just had to see how it worked.”
I went to rebut his argument, but the more I thought about his reasoning, the less I could argue. “Possibly.”
He grinned like he’d won first prize. Then he said, “You should get going.”
Oh, yes. Right. I got out of the vehicle, and before I shut the door, I said, “Thank you, Mr Brighton. I truly do appreciate the lift.”
“Anytime,” he answered. “And please, call me Jack.”
CHAPTER THREE
Jack
I sat there and watched as Lawson raced into the museum. He appeared to be the picture of perfection, impeccably dressed and not one hair out of place. But I got the feeling he ran late to every appointment he ever made.
He was like no man I’d ever met. Crazy smart―genius, apparently―and absolutely clueless about how gorgeous he was. He dressed like it was the 1920s and he spoke the Queen’s English like he’d just swallowed the Oxford Dictionary.
Jesus. He made my chest feel too small for my heart.
I wanted to spend more time with him. I wanted to discuss the illogical reasoning of humans and dragonflies, and why butterflies? I wanted to taste those pink lips and see how far that blush ran down his neck…
By the way he’d checked me out when I bumped into him on the plane and then again standing at the car rental desk, I was pretty sure he was gay. Or interested. Or curious. Or something.
I just had to figure out a way of seeing him again… Then I remembered he’d left his suitcase in the back of my ute. I grinned victoriously, and without knowing how long his appointment at the museum was to go for, I had a reason to sit and wait.
And wait, I did.
Two hours later, he scurried out of the front doors, and he tripped over his feet when he saw me leaning against my ute, waiting for him. He looked around and behind himself to see if I was smiling at someone else, which only made him more endearing.
“You forgot your suitcase,” I called out.
“Oh!” He looked horrified. And cute. He hurried toward me. “I made you wait all this time. I do apologise.”
“Well, I could lie and tell you it was a terrible inconvenience, but I didn’t mind. It gave me a pretty good opportunity to ask you out for dinner.”
He stared at me like my words made no sense, then a shade of pink bloomed across his cheeks. “Oh.”
“If you want to, that is,” I clarified. God, I didn’t even know if he was seeing someone… Or even if he was inclined to want to have dinner with a man. “If you’re interested.”
He stammered, his mouth opened and shut a few times, and his blush deepened.
So I softened the question for him. “I don’t get to have dinner with guys who can hold an interesting conversation very often. And that’s all it has to be, if you want. Just dinner and conversation. My treat.”
He blinked and swallowed thickly. “I… well, I… yes. Yes, I think I’d like that. Though I must warn you, as I said before, my conversation skills are not my strongest quality.”
I was grinning. I couldn’t help it. “I think we’ll manage just fine.”
He huffed out a breath, then patted down his already perfect hair, looked around nervously, and smiled.
“Right then,” I said. “Which hotel are you staying at? Did I hear you say it was out of town?”
“Oh!” He looked horrified again. “When you said dinner…”
I burst out laughing when I realised what he thought I was implying. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I’ll drop you off at your hotel and, like a gentleman, pick you up again for dinner. If that’s okay? I mean, I’m not opposed to seeing the inside of your hotel room, but I was actually looking forward to dinner and a conversation too.”
Now he blushed a deep burgundy. Damn, and if it didn’t disappear down underneath his collar. He looked down the street, anywhere it seemed but at me. “Well, I’m supposed to be staying in a place called Scottsdale―”
“Scottsdale?”
“Yes. Professor Tillman suggested it would be a good deal closer to where I needed to go. But my rental car wasn’t available. If we could find another rental place, I’d really appreciate that.”
“I can do you one better than that,” I said. “I can drive you to Scottsdale.”
His gaze shot to mine. “No, I couldn’t ask that of you. You’ve already been terribly inconvenienced.”
“I live in Scottsdale, so it’s not an inconvenience at all.”
He didn’t miss a beat. His eyes narrowed. “You told me the museum was on your way when you offered me a lift here. I only accepted the ride because it wasn’t out of your way. Now you’re saying you live sixty kilometres away? Downtown Launceston is hardly on your way. And what of dinner? You would drive all the way back just for dinner?”
“Yes I would,” I said honestly. “It’s only a forty-five-minute drive. I make this trip all the time. And the museum kind of is on my way, if I choose to drive through the city, which in this case I did. And who’s to say I didn’t have something to do here anyway? Maybe my reason wasn’t all about you.”
This shut him up. “Oh. Well, of course it wasn’t.”
I tried not to smile but couldn’t help it. “But it kinda really was. I only offered the lift to the museum because you were stuck. And because you’re very cute, I won’t lie. That was also a deciding factor.”
He blinked.
I laughed. “You don’t get compliments very often, do you?”
I didn’t wait for him to answer; I just opened the passenger door of the ute. “Hop in.”
I walked around the car and got in behind the wheel while he still stood at the door. He frowned seriously at me. “Are you making excuses about driving to Scottsdale? Is that some ploy also?”
“Nope. No ploy. I really do live there. And my dog is probably wondering where I am. I told her I’d be home today at lunch time.” I started the truck. “And what ploy would I have? You’ve already agreed to have dinner with me.”
“I could take that back,” he said defiantly as he climbed into his seat. “Rescinding a dinner invitation would be well within my personal boundaries.”