green eyes deep-set in a pale, intense face. For a brief moment she was distracted by the mop of flaming red hair, unpleasantly reminded of the woman who had given her so much cause for discomfort, but then her senses responded to the very male impact of the unshaven chin and sexy mouth, the lazy, white-lidded gaze and the lean, tapering body encased in a black tee shirt and jeans. His face said he was somewhere in his thirties, but the decadent eyes were much, much older.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said, consciously trying to act normal. It was difficult when he looked so fascinated by her own eyes, but perhaps that fathomless gaze was just part of his technique. ‘Some maggots have a useful side, too. Like leeches, they’re being used medicinally in some hospitals—to help remove dead tissue in and around infected wounds. They’re supposedly more effective than surgery because they don’t excise any healthy flesh.’
Oh, yes, have a conversation with the man about rotting flesh—very normal, Kate!
He received the lecture in flattering silence, moving around to lean a casual shoulder against the wall. ‘I’ll never swat a fly again,’ he vowed, hand on his heart. ‘But I still prefer blood-suckers to scum-suckers. Leeches seem like they might be more fun to hang around with at parties…’
‘You would know,’ she murmured, and bit her lip, thinking that might have been a bit rude.
His eyelids drooped, his trade-mark, world-weary smile hiking his sensual mouth. ‘OK, now we both know that you know who I am,’ said Steve Marlow, former bad-boy rock-star, now New Zealand’s—and one of Hollywood’s—most sought-after composer of movie-music. ‘Am I allowed to know who you are?’
‘Kate.’
‘Tell me, Kate…’he jacked one black-booted foot over the other as he trotted out one of the most hoary old clichés in the pick-up business ‘…do you come here often?’
Her heart didn’t even miss a beat. ‘Only in the maggot season.’
He laughed, his attractively harsh voice projecting off the walls. Shaking his head, he looked around the now-empty waiting room. ‘Are you here to pick up an animal?’
‘I’m here with a friend.’
‘So am I. My nephew’s pet rabbit who has been losing some of his rabbity-bits in order not to over-populate his hutch.’ He placed his hand on the wall above her head and leaned confidingly closer. ‘Has anyone told you what absolutely stunning eyes you have?’
‘Yes. I have,’ said Drake, striding across the floor to slip his hand under Kate’s elbow and tug her away, her feet stumbling as Prince blundered eagerly between them to head-butt Steve Marlow in the thigh.
‘Ouch! Can’t you keep this damned dog of yours under control?’
‘I am. He’s trained to attack tired, old, talentless has-beens who sleaze around younger women desperately trying to relive their faded days of glory!’
‘I still can’t believe you said that,’ a mortified Kate was repeating as he encouraged Prince to jump up into the back seat of the Land Rover and settle down on his tartan rug. ‘You just insulted a Kiwi icon. It’s a wonder he didn’t punch you in the nose, like he did that music critic backstage at the Oscars!’
‘He’d have to pump up those skinny arms first!’ sneered Drake, hustling her around to the front passenger door.
Just as she was getting in, Steve Marlow came out of the clinic with a carry-cage, and walked over to a black convertible parked near the door.
He looked across the gravel parking yard at them, and lifted up the cage to show Kate the sluggish white behemoth squatting within. ‘Hey, Drake!’ he called, in his famously husky voice. ‘Are you still on for our usual Friday-night pool session?’
The mocking lilt made Drake stiffen. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
The bright green gaze went pointedly to Kate’s sun-burnished head. ‘Oh, I don’t know…Ken and I just thought you might have found more exciting things to
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said, consciously trying to act normal. It was difficult when he looked so fascinated by her own eyes, but perhaps that fathomless gaze was just part of his technique. ‘Some maggots have a useful side, too. Like leeches, they’re being used medicinally in some hospitals—to help remove dead tissue in and around infected wounds. They’re supposedly more effective than surgery because they don’t excise any healthy flesh.’
Oh, yes, have a conversation with the man about rotting flesh—very normal, Kate!
He received the lecture in flattering silence, moving around to lean a casual shoulder against the wall. ‘I’ll never swat a fly again,’ he vowed, hand on his heart. ‘But I still prefer blood-suckers to scum-suckers. Leeches seem like they might be more fun to hang around with at parties…’
‘You would know,’ she murmured, and bit her lip, thinking that might have been a bit rude.
His eyelids drooped, his trade-mark, world-weary smile hiking his sensual mouth. ‘OK, now we both know that you know who I am,’ said Steve Marlow, former bad-boy rock-star, now New Zealand’s—and one of Hollywood’s—most sought-after composer of movie-music. ‘Am I allowed to know who you are?’
‘Kate.’
‘Tell me, Kate…’he jacked one black-booted foot over the other as he trotted out one of the most hoary old clichés in the pick-up business ‘…do you come here often?’
Her heart didn’t even miss a beat. ‘Only in the maggot season.’
He laughed, his attractively harsh voice projecting off the walls. Shaking his head, he looked around the now-empty waiting room. ‘Are you here to pick up an animal?’
‘I’m here with a friend.’
‘So am I. My nephew’s pet rabbit who has been losing some of his rabbity-bits in order not to over-populate his hutch.’ He placed his hand on the wall above her head and leaned confidingly closer. ‘Has anyone told you what absolutely stunning eyes you have?’
‘Yes. I have,’ said Drake, striding across the floor to slip his hand under Kate’s elbow and tug her away, her feet stumbling as Prince blundered eagerly between them to head-butt Steve Marlow in the thigh.
‘Ouch! Can’t you keep this damned dog of yours under control?’
‘I am. He’s trained to attack tired, old, talentless has-beens who sleaze around younger women desperately trying to relive their faded days of glory!’
‘I still can’t believe you said that,’ a mortified Kate was repeating as he encouraged Prince to jump up into the back seat of the Land Rover and settle down on his tartan rug. ‘You just insulted a Kiwi icon. It’s a wonder he didn’t punch you in the nose, like he did that music critic backstage at the Oscars!’
‘He’d have to pump up those skinny arms first!’ sneered Drake, hustling her around to the front passenger door.
Just as she was getting in, Steve Marlow came out of the clinic with a carry-cage, and walked over to a black convertible parked near the door.
He looked across the gravel parking yard at them, and lifted up the cage to show Kate the sluggish white behemoth squatting within. ‘Hey, Drake!’ he called, in his famously husky voice. ‘Are you still on for our usual Friday-night pool session?’
The mocking lilt made Drake stiffen. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
The bright green gaze went pointedly to Kate’s sun-burnished head. ‘Oh, I don’t know…Ken and I just thought you might have found more exciting things to
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