He sighed. “I guess this is where you tell me the part I’m not looking forward to.”
She wiped her hands on her shorts. Humidity thickened around them, and a bead of sweat rolled down between her breasts.
“Lachlan would like you to come back to Sydney with me.”
“And do what?” he shot back.
His scraping tone caught on her nerves. She was just the messenger, and she’d done enough tiptoeing around him.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she retorted, resting her hands on her hips. “Maybe catch up with your family? Talk to your grandfather? Check on everyone you haven’t seen in the past three years?”
In the gloominess, his eyes glinted like sea ice. His voice lowered to a rasp. “Is that a hint of criticism I detect in your voice, Grace?”
She gulped. He appraised her as if noticing her for the first time as a real person, not just a human telegram. And he didn’t seem to like what he saw.
“Criticism? Er, no, of course not.”
He glared at her a few more moments. “Liar.”