The Spark - Jules Wake Page 0,2

third surreptitious glances – he was so not my type – but for some bizarre reason my hormones had other ideas and were jumping up and down in a state of parlous excitement that made my legs a little wobbly and my pulse take off like a bolting horse zigzagging all over a race course. There was erratic and then there were A&E-bound levels. All of which was completely ridiculous because I did not do laid-back surfie types. Seriously, he looked like he’d stepped off an exotic beach and left his bikini babe and surfboard behind. And as for those wrap-around sunglasses … did he think he was playing in a Test Match for Australia?

I think I was protesting a bit too much. I wasn’t normally this judgemental about someone I hadn’t even spoken to, and I definitely didn’t have this type of reaction just from looking at someone. I mean, I’ve had crushes on good-looking, totally unattainable, never-going-to-meet-them film stars and singers over the years, but never this instant zing of attraction for a real-life flesh-(oh yes, gorgeous flesh)-and-blood person.

With all these thoughts flashing through my brain, I think I must have been giving out flares of static electricity or something, because the blond god suddenly looked up, a bit like one of those glorious antlered stags scenting something downwind that you see on wildlife programmes on the Scottish Highlands. He looked straight at me and a fizz of excitement like an out-of-control Catherine wheel burst in my stomach, frying every last butterfly leaping about in there.

His wide mouth curved in a generous smile and he pushed up his sunglasses onto the top of his head.

‘Hi there,’ he said with friendly ease, crinkles appearing around properly deep blue eyes. Yeah, he was a regular perfect Adonis. And there was something in his eyes that said whatever I was feeling (and I told myself that it was just lust at first sight), I wasn’t on my own.

‘Hi,’ I replied, relieved to hear that my voice hadn’t let me down.

‘Nice to see someone of my own age.’ The warmth of his smile wrapped itself around my heart. Well, if not that then something was going on. There were some very weird fluttery feelings in my chest cavity. And there was definitely a level of interest in his gaze.

‘I’ve just had an in-depth conversation about lawn maintenance with a man who probably went to school with my grandpa and before that – don’t get me wrong, she was a very nice lady, but she was asking me if I could recommend a good electrician or a builder. Random or what?’

I smiled at his slightly bewildered expression. ‘It’s probably the vest.’

‘This?’ He yanked it down, which exposed a pair of smooth, almost hairless, perfectly toned pecs and a little vee of dark-blond hair between.

I swallowed and nodded.

‘It was the only clean T-shirt I had,’ he said. ‘Everything is on the line drying … or at least I hope it is, otherwise I’ll have nothing to wear to work tomorrow. And that will not go down well.’ He flashed me a killer smile full of laughter.

‘No, I imagine not.’ I smiled back, doing my best not to think of him naked. ‘What do you do?’ I paused. ‘Oh God, did I really just say that? I think I’ve turned into my uncle and aunt.’ I nodded back through the bi-fold doors behind us towards the adults in the kitchen.

‘Their party?’

‘Yes. My cousin asked me to come as moral youthful support … except she reneged about half an hour ago.’

‘Ouch.’

‘Oh, it’s not so bad. Have you seen the food yet?’

‘Actually, it seems like a very nice party. I’m rather glad I came now.’ He gave me another smile, this one a little more considered as he took a pull on his beer. ‘My parents moved here about six months ago.’ He nodded to the end of the garden. ‘They back on to your aunt and uncle’s. I’m housesitting while my folks are away, looking after the dog, and Lynn insisted I pop in.’ He shrugged, with a twinkle in his eye. ‘I was at a loose end and food was promised.’

I laughed. ‘You definitely came for the right reason. Although I have first dibs on leftovers.’

‘Did you come packing Tupperware?’ he asked.

‘No.’ I couldn’t help smiling at his humorous expression.

‘Well,’ he said with mock seriousness, ‘all bets are off then.’ He chinked my glass with his beer bottle.

‘I might have to pull the favourite-niece card.’

‘How