[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] Ready to climb back to the cottage, Blythe hesitated and waited for him. 'Thanks for the party,' he said formally. 'You left early.' 'Your place is small for a crowd. I didn't think I'd be missed.' 'One more wouldn't have made a difference. I hope we didn't make too much noise.' 'Don't worry about it.' He nodded to her and went on his way. She wondered if Jas had enjoyed himself at all or simply thought her and her friends shallow and frivolous. He wasn't an easy man to get to know. Yet now and again she'd caught a glimpse of warmth, of enthusiasm, even excitement dammed up behind that wall of detachment. And of an unwanted sexual attraction to her. Her cheeks grew hot and a prickling sensation ran over her skin. Surely she'd thrown out enough hints to Jas even told him point-blank that she liked him. He'd turned that aside with a generalisation and walked away. He hadn't even said he liked her in return. A tremor of doubt shook her. Maybe he found her a nuisance  offering to do things for him, collecting mail, running errands, issuing unwanted invitations...even inviting him to flirt with her. She'd never done that before. But there was that rarely glimpsed glitter in his eyes that he couldn't hide, the unspoken but unmistakable male-to-female message: I find you desirable. Despite that, he'd made it patently clear that he didn't want to get involved. So if she got her fingers burned she had only herself to blame. While she was having lunch a couple of days later a storm warning was broadcast on the radio. A cyclone sweeping across the Pacific from the Islands had veered towards New Zealand and was expected to come howling down the coast during the night. It had lost some of its force and the eye would probably be well out to sea, but winds of up to a hundred kilometres an hour were forecast. She'd need to cut all the flowers she could and make sure the rest were as secure as possible. She 'was already working in the garden when it occurred to her that Jas might not have heard the radio warning. Did he even have a radio? Blythe wasn't sure. She hesitated only a moment or two before pulling off her gloves and going down to his house. His door was open, and at her knock he emerged from the kitchen at the rear, a tea-towel in his hands. 'Hello.' 'Hi.' She tried to gauge his expression, and decided it was wary. 'Um...have you heard the cyclone warning?' 'Cyclone?' 'They said on the radio the edge of it's supposed to hit us some time tonight.' 'Well, as you told me once, there's not a lot we can do about it.' 'You should probably make sure your windows are secure, and...you don't have outdoor furniture or anything that's likely to be picked up and thrown through a window, do you?' 'No, but I'll check around the place for anything loose.' 'Well...I'll leave you to it.' 'Thanks for telling me.' As she turned and started down the steps, he said, 'Blythe?' 'Yes?' She stopped to face him. 'Will you need any help to prepare for this? Your flowers won't stand cyclone winds, will they?' She couldn't keep a note of worry from her voice. 'I'm going to pick as many as I can today and put them into drums of water.' 'Your tunnel house it's only plastic.' 'It's on the sheltered side of the hill and sturdier than it looks. I just have to cross my fingers and hope.' 'I'll come and help you pick.' 'But you're busy.' 'Not too busy to help out a friend.' A friend. She was so glad to hear him say that, she flashed him a brilliant smile. 'Thank you. But are you sure ?' 'Give me fifteen minutes and I'll be there.' CHAPTER FIVE BLYTHE showed Jas how to cut the stalks of the budding sunflowers at an angle. They worked quickly, gathering the stems into bundles and plunging them into the big drums that Blythe had prepared with a mixture of water and a treatment agent. Several people phoned to check she'd heard the warning, and asking if she needed help. She thanked them and told them she had help already. Micky offered to bring some friends along but she assured him everything was under control. As she laid down the phone Jas thrust another bundle of sunflowers into a drum. 'Had you thought of putting them in the garage?' he asked her, glancing dubiously at the white plastic overhead. 'They'd wilt in there.' The garage was corrugated iron and the day was still deceptively sunny and hot. Blythe had found a straw stetson that her father sometimes used and made Jas put it on. She wore a wide hat herself, and a loose sleeveless shirt over her shorts. Each time she took more blooms to the tunnel house she splashed a little cool water on her face and under her arms from the tap outside, but she could feel sweat gathering between her breasts. Jas was sweating too, the back of his T-shirt darkened and damp. At one point he straightened, removed the hat to wipe his forehead with his hand, and said incredulously, 'You normally do this on your own?''I don't usually harvest so many at once. And I pick in the evening or early morning.' When a little later Jas stripped off his shirt and used it to wipe his forehead again before tossing the shirt to the ground, Blythe took out the tube of sunscreen she always kept in the back pocket of her shorts and handed it to him. Jas gave her a quizzical look but spread the cream on his arms and chest while she pretended to be occupied tying a bundle of stems together. He had a nice chest, not too hairy. There was no spare flesh on him, but his upper arms were quite muscular for a man with a sedentary occupation. Maybe he lifted weights. Or books, she thought, smiling inwardly as she knotted the binding about the thick stems of the sunflowers. He had plenty of those to heft around. As she straightened he replaced the cap on the tube and gave the sunscreen back to her. 'Thanks.' 'Turn around,' she said briskly, unscrewing the cap again. He couldn't have reached his back. He didn't do it immediately, and she repeated, 'Turn around. It's your back that's most likely to get burnt.' Jas turned, and stood with his hands on his hips while she squeezed white goo onto her palm and spread it quickly across the firm, warm flesh. She had to stop her hand from lingering, her thumb from exploring the intriguing groove of his spine. It was done in seconds and she stepped back. 'There.' Jas's shoulders moved as he took a breath. 'Thanks,' he repeated, his voice muffled. Without looking at her he returned to cutting the sunflowers. When they'd picked all those that were close to flowering, they checked the ones that couldn't be harvested yet, making sure their supports were secure. 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