Playing it Cool (Sydney Smoke Rugby) Read Online Free Page A

heartbeat.
    “Yeah, well,” she said, breaking their eye contact to inspect the progress of her painting. Already little forest creatures were taking shape, peeping out from behind the lush green leaves. “Food is all that’s on offer here tonight, buddy.”
    And maybe if she told herself that often enough, she’d quash the wicked whispers from uninhibited Harper, who seemed to have escaped the straitjacket she’d been restrained in since their phone call the other night.
    Harper—the uninhibited and sober versions—didn’t have a problem with one-night stands. She didn’t give a rat’s ass what two consenting adults decided—more power to them. She just didn’t believe in it for herself. Sleeping with a guy—any guy—on the first date was not on her agenda. And even if she were to break that lifelong rule, she sure as hell wasn’t going to head down that path with a guy she knew was using her as much as she was using him.
    What if she wanted more, but he and his mates had had their fun and he moved on? To a supermodel . That was just asking for some fucked-up self-doubt that would screw with her psyche for far too long.
    “And painting,” she added. “Take it or leave it.”
    A smile played on the full curve of his bottom lip as he considered her for a moment. Weighing his options maybe? God knew she was so turned on from watching his wrist action he could slide his hand onto her thigh and she’d probably come louder than Sally had done for Harry.
    And there’d be nothing fake about it.
    Harper almost sagged with relief in her chair when he picked up his paintbrush and dipped it in the white paintpot before transferring it to his canvas, resuming the incessant long, slow strokes.
    “Do you have a current commission you’re working on?” he asked after a moment or two.
    “Yup,” she said, also returning her attention to her own work. “I’m currently doing murals for the City Central kid’s hospital.”
    “Really?” His eyebrows rose in interest. “The club does charity stuff there. We’ve got a visit coming up soon, I think. How’d that gig come about?”
    “A friend of mine has a child with cystic fibrosis who’s in and out of there a lot. The place was so bloody depressing—all the walls this beigey-apricot colour. Looked like it was the original paint job from two decades prior. She raised some funds and got permission to have murals painted on the walls of the ward where Maddy stays, to brighten things up a bit and make the kids less apprehensive about being in some giant, sterile, unfriendly building. She suggested me for the murals. I put some designs together and was given the go ahead.”
    He whistled, clearly impressed. “That sounds awesome.”
    The enthusiasm in his voice was genuine, and Harper sat a little higher. She’d been so used to her so-called family nagging her about getting a proper job, she’d forgotten that there was another worldview out there. “I do have an awesome job.” She grinned.
    “How long have you been doing this?”
    “The first ward was a year ago, but I’m doing various wings in the entire hospital now. I also volunteer to teach a couple of art classes through the school there in the afternoons.”
    “They have a school?”
    “Sure. Some kids are long-term, and they have as much right to be educated as well kids.”
    “Makes sense,” he mused. “So…you’re a muralist by trade?”
    “No. I’m a graphic artist, which is useful in the design stage. But I know my way around a canvas, too, and just sort of fell into this, and I love it.”
    “That is so cool. Your family must be really proud.”
    Harper kept her smile in place but it was tight and forced. “I think they’d prefer me to have a real job.”
    He frowned. “Being an artist isn’t a real job?
    “Well…” She shrugged. “To be fair, it’s not always stable and usually not very lucrative.”
    “And is that the way we measure job worth? By how lucrative it