looked at her with that intense stare, like he wanted to see beneath her deliberately cultivated façade, she knew she liked this new flirtatious Mason way too much to be good for her.
‘I’ve lived here my whole life, so trust me when I say the local spinsters will pounce on any new guy with a pulse.’
This time, he laughed out loud, the deep timbre rippling along her skin like a physical caress. ‘I’m not sure if you insulted or complimented me.’
‘Let’s just say if you attend the blues night here in a fortnight, you won’t be short of dance partners.’
‘I’ll make sure to stay away.’ He winked and in that moment Jane wished she could go back in time and tell her younger self to wake the hell up. She’d tell young Jane to not want to be a people-pleaser so much, especially with her mum. She’d tell her to not worry about designer clothes or hanging out with the richest kids or being considered the prettiest and most popular. She’d tell her to change before it was too late, to acknowledge kids like Mason and Ruby at school, to embrace friendship rather than considering life as a giant competition.
But she couldn’t turn back time so the best she could do was ensure she didn’t screw up now.
‘Shall we get down to business?’ She sounded brusque and softened her abruptness with, ‘I’m buzzing with ideas.’
‘As much as I admire your enthusiasm, I’m starving, and that butter chicken Ruby mentioned sounds mighty fine. How about you? You hungry?’
Jane didn’t want to eat because sharing dinner with Mason reeked of this being a date and her overactive imagination didn’t need the encouragement, but her stomach betrayed her with a loud rumble.
She could tell he was biting back a smile as he stood. ‘I’ll order two,’ he said, making his way to the bar to order, leaving her to study how fine his butt looked in those chinos.
Damn it, she always did this, check out a guy for his physical assets, deliberately not seeing beneath the exterior because it could never go anywhere. The guys she hooked up with were transient, despite her yearning for security.
The thing was, Mason would be transient too. If he’d lived in Paris for so long she couldn’t see him hanging around once the bakery revamp was done—he’d hit the road again, live in Melbourne or Sydney or beyond. So technically a fling with the hot baker wouldn’t be entirely out of the question. Once they got business out of the way, that is.
But there was something about Mason that appealed to her on a deeper level, beyond his obvious attractions. When he looked at her, she didn’t feel an urge to take a shower to rinse off the sleaze like with other guys. Instead, he looked at her like he knew she had half a brain. Heady stuff for a girl whose intelligence had been undervalued her whole life.
When he returned, he placed a bottle of chardonnay and two glasses on the table. ‘The kid at the bar said this wine goes well with the butter chicken so I took his recommendation.’
‘Perfect.’
As he poured the wine she studied his fingers and suppressed a shiver of longing, imagining them caressing and stroking—
‘Jane?’
She blinked and refocussed on the glass he held out to her. ‘Thanks.’ She flashed a smile, took the glass and clinked it against his. ‘To bringing French flair to Brockenridge.’
‘I’ll drink to that.’
She gulped half her wine before setting the glass on the table, eager to concentrate on business. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Sure.’
‘Why Brockenridge? I mean, I get that your mum’s bakery has been a fixture here for decades, but you’ve worked in Paris. Why not open your own patisserie in a chic city like Sydney or Melbourne?’
Shadows clouded his eyes and she mentally cursed, hoping she hadn’t hit a sore spot. ‘Because I owe Mum. Every cent she saved from the bakery went towards me doing my apprenticeship in Melbourne and later funding my life in Paris. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be where I am today, so this is my way of giving something back.’
‘That’s sweet,’ Jane said, her admiration for him increasing. ‘So does that mean you’ll be staying around once it’s up and running?’
‘What’s with the twenty questions?’
Nice deflection. As if someone like him would stick around in backwater Brockenridge when he’d lived in Paris.
‘Just curious.’ She shrugged. ‘Betty’s been a good friend to me over the years, almost