tippingthescales_GEN Read online

  Libby laughed again. “Is that the title of the sequel?”

  “Sequel?” He blinked. “There’s no sequel. I’m not a writer.”

  “Well, there’s the small matter of you having written a book. That doesn’t make you a writer?”

  “Nope. That was a weird accident.”

  Libby raised her brows. “You accidently fell onto a computer keyboard, and a word document just happened to be open?”

  “Hey look, she’s a smartass,” Jake remarked with a grin. “I like it.”

  Someone at the counter called out Jake’s name and he hopped up to fetch their order, leaving Libby to wrestle with the odd rush of pleasure Jake’s joking admiration had engendered. He’d called her a smartass and her girly zones were pulsing in response. That was plain ridiculous.

  Jake returned and set a plastic cup full of orange slush and her cheese sandwich in front of her. “I got you one of these mango frappe things too. I thought it seemed like your style.”

  Libby was caught between being annoyed by his presumptuousness and being overjoyed at the sight of the fruity drink. She took a sip from the straw and sighed in pleasure. She loved these things, but sort of hated that Jake thought she was so predictable. In the end, manners won out. “Thank you. It’s delicious.”

  He grinned, looking overtly pleased with himself. “Glad I finally did something right.”

  He waited while she took a bite of her sandwich before tucking into his, and once again his civility surprised her. Maybe she’d hit a nerve with her accusation that he possessed no gentility. Between mouthfuls, Libby mused, “You realize this is what you should be like, don’t you?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “On your media tour. You need to show people this man, the man who can be courteous, modest and charming when he sets his mind to it.”

  One dark brow lifted over a twinkling green eye. “Charming?”

  He would focus on that. “I mean it. Women will buy your book if they see you as a reasonable, intelligent individual who cares about other people.”

  They’d probably come to his book signings in droves, wearing low-cut tops and throwing him their phone number. Jake McCallum was good looking, funny, available and a damn good kisser. Once the spotlight swung around to focus on him, he wouldn’t stay available for long. The thought brought with it a little niggle of disappointment that Libby absolutely refused to acknowledge.

  “I suppose.” Jake shrugged. “Could we talk about something else for a while?”

  “Why the reluctance to talk about your book—this happy accident, as you call it?”

  “I never said happy,” he groused. “I think the whole thing is stupid.”

  Libby nibbled on another bite of her toasted sandwich. “How so? You wrote a book. Isn’t that kind of a big deal?”

  Jake pushed out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. He hooked his hands behind his head, the pose stretching the cotton of his T-shirt across his chest. Libby took another quick gulp of her mango frappe. It was difficult to concentrate on how offensive the shirt’s invective on marriage was when it was plastered to his muscles like that.

  At length, Jake explained. “When I started dating again—”

  “Again?”

  He looked none too pleased that she’d picked up on that. “I took a break.”

  Libby sensed he was hedging with his response but didn’t press him for a more in-depth explanation. If he didn’t want to talk about it, she couldn’t make him. She wasn’t interested in Jake’s past love life anyway. “Go on.”

  “When I got back into the dating scene, it seemed like every date I went on was a disaster from start to finish. I used to write my sister these emails about it—she was living up in Bundaberg at the time—and she encouraged me to start a blog. I guess she thought I was entertaining. She said I could be anonymous—I was JT Bachelor, in case you were wondering. Angela said I might even make a little money through advertising. So I did it for something to do, really. It was fun and people seemed to like it. I got a lot of comments and hits, the advertising revenue went up and up. It just sorta happened.”

  “And you sent a publishing proposal to Peony?”

  “They came to me actually. Got wind of the blog somehow and saw something in it, I guess.”

  So his blog must have been really popular. Given the size of his ego—which had been in fine form a short while ago after that impudent kiss—Libby wondered why he was being so modest about his writing achievements. “Do you still have the blog?”

  “Nah. As part of the deal, Peony took it over. One of their internet gurus uses it to promote the book.”

  Libby made a mental note to check it out later, then she wondered why she should. You’re not interested in Jake, remember? Just making polite conversation here. “So that’s great, isn’t it? You’re a success.”

  His brows hunkered down over his green eyes. “I already was a success. I’m a good mechanic, heir to the family business. I do all right.”

  “I never said there was anything wrong with being a mechanic.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Right.”

  Libby suppressed a sigh of impatience. She hadn’t tried to disparage his job, merely point out that he’d achieved something as a writer. “Do you know what my mother does for a living? She’s a faith healer. She reads auras and heals back pain with crystals. I lived in hemp overalls until I was twelve years old. I only ever owned one pair of shoes at a time, and they usually had holes in them. If you think I’m a snob, you’re no judge of character and have no business judging women for the way they behave.”

  After her little tirade, Libby took a vicious bite of her lunch and masticated it to death. She sensed Jake’s focus upon her and forced herself to meet his gaze. There was that expression again, the one that almost reminded her of approval. She really wished he’d stop staring at her like that. Libby hated the way she liked it so much.

  “Okay. I’m sorry I thought you were a snob.” He leaned forward and picked up the second half of his sandwich. “So how about brothers and sisters—you have any?”

  “It was only me and my mum.” Libby surprised herself by adding the next detail, the one she rarely revealed. “My dad left around the time I got difficult.”

  “When was that?”

  “About two and a half years of age. Apparently, I was quite willful and prone to temper.”

  “You? Nah.”

  His slow grin took the edge off the mockery. Those recalcitrant tingles chased themselves all through her body again. The man’s smile ought to be registered as a lethal weapon. “I won’t apologize for pushing you around. I’m only doing my job.”

  “I know. And I’m going to let you do it from now on, I swear.” Jake crossed a finger over his heart to make his point. “I mean, all the better to get it over with, right?”

  “Right.” Libby took the last bite of her sandwich and had to force herself to swallow over the sudden tightness in her throat. Of course he wanted to get this over with. He didn’t enjoy spending time with her any more than she liked having her morning wasted arguing with him. The sooner this job was finished, the sooner she would see the back of Jake McCallum and his chauvinistic attitude.

  She pushed her plate aside, now regretting all that cheese. “Let’s keep moving. We’ll hit a few more places and call it a day.”

  “Sounds good.”

  They stood and stacked their plates and empty glasses. As they left the cafe, another couple made a beeline for their vacated table. Jake placed a hand on the small of Libby’s back in order to steer her around them. The closeness meant the warmth of his body reached out and curled around her like a sultry fog. It cocooned her against him and completely muddled her brain.

  While they stood close, Jake leaned down to murmur in her ear, “For the record, no father worth anything leaves because his kid is spirited. He leaves because he’s weak and an asshole. That’s not your fault, Lib.”

  Libby’s breath backed up in her th
roat. Jake didn’t move away from her even though the other couple had passed and there was no need for him to stand so close anymore. To her horror, his words and the insight they revealed made the backs of her eyes sting. She didn’t look up at him, afraid he might see her emotions too well. Instead, she cleared her throat. “I know that.”

  He circled his hand on her back, the gesture one of comfort, not sexual titillation. The fact that Libby somehow managed to glean both from that brief touch confused the heck out of her.

  “Good,” Jake said before at last stepping away. He gestured with his arm that she should precede him. There was that graciousness again, accompanied by that boyish, rascally grin. Another confounding combination. “Lead the way, chickadee.”