‘Nothing. But think what you could be missing.’
She frowned. ‘There’s nothing missing in my life.’
‘Apart from a social life.’
‘I have a perfectly satisfactory social life, thank you.’
He leaned against the balcony, the wet suit lovingly displaying every muscular curve of his body. ‘Bingo on a Friday, lobster night at the Dog and Duck. The beach barbecue. Take-away seafood from Hilda’s Kitchen. Wow.’
‘Never underestimate Hilda’s seafood.’ Anna clamped her jaw shut to prevent herself from rising to the bait. It was true that her social life was pathetically limited but that was as much because she was exhausted all the time as to lack of opportunity. By the time she finished work all she had the energy for was a date with a good book. But that was fine for now. She was busy establishing herself as a GP. Time for the rest later. It was all part of her life plan.
She leaned back in her chair and pretended to enjoy the view. ‘At least my social life doesn’t make the newspapers. Face it, McKenna, you just can’t settle down with one woman, can you?’
Every time she saw a picture of him, he had a different woman on his arm. Usually blonde. Usually extremely curvaceous. None of them looked like the marrying type.
‘Why would I want to?’
‘Your mother is waiting for grandchildren.’
He threw his head back and laughed, a rich masculine sound that triggered an answering feminine response deep inside her. ‘I hope she’s a slow knitter.’
Suddenly Anna found herself noticing the tiny creases around his eyes and the way his jaw flexed when he smiled.
Disturbed by such unusually intimate observations, she rose to her feet and walked towards the house. His voice stopped her in the doorway.
‘So, what are we eating tonight, Riggs??
??
She turned back to face him, one brow arched in question. ‘How would I know?’
‘Perhaps because you’ve been living here for a few weeks? Presumably you’ve filled the fridge? Planned a few meals? Surprise me.’
She smiled sweetly. ‘You’ve been reading fairy tales again. I’m not Little Red Riding Hood and you’re every bit as capable of making a meal as I am. Probably more. You know where the fridge is, McKenna. If you want to eat, eat. Don’t involve me in it.’
She hated to cook, even for herself. There was no way she’d be cooking for Sam. Unless she was aiming to poison him.
‘Well, presumably you have to eat at some point, too.’
She leaned against the door-frame, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, her legs long and lightly tanned. ‘I don’t see why my eating habits are of any interest to you.’
‘It’s just that if you’re cooking, it’s as easy to cook for two as one.’
‘If you’re hoping I’m going to cook for you then you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.’
Those blue eyes flashed a challenge. ‘Eating is supposed to be an opportunity for social interaction between people.’
‘People who like each other, McKenna. We don’t. All the more reason for us to eat alone.’
He straightened up, his body lithe and powerful, stretching his shoulders to relieve the tension. ‘All right. You never did quite have the woman thing sorted. So it looks as though I’m cooking.’
‘Wait a minute.’ Despite her vow not to rise to the bait, she couldn’t stay silent. ‘I’ve had enough of your digs for one night. What do you mean, I never did quite have the woman thing sorted?’
He hooked the empty beer bottle with his finger, his movements slow and casual. ‘You just don’t do woman stuff, do you? Never have.’
‘Woman stuff? What woman stuff? You want me to dress in pink?’
He grinned. ‘Can’t see you in pink somehow.’