The masculine voice crooned low and soft in her ear, working its magic on her inch by inch. In those endless seconds, her brain registered that the strong hands that held her weren’t squeezing too tight. They weren’t manhandling her, they weren’t striking her. In fact, they were only tight enough to have pulled her back. These hands had caused her no harm. Unlike Evan’s.
She was safe.
Through the thunder of her heart, she heard the splish and splash of heavy raindrops on the pavement and her downed umbrella. Her own ragged breathing filtered in next, along with the harsh breathing of her puddle partner.
She yanked her camera out of her sweater and carefully examined it. No cracks to the lens or anything. Thank God. She didn’t have the money to replace it.
With one arm, Abbie tried to leverage herself up, but she slipped and landed back on her savior’s lap…hard. She whipped her head around to face him and he stared at her. Raindrops clung to his dark, sooty lashes. His wavy hair was plastered to his head. She tried to make her mouth move, but nothing happened, almost as if the command had gotten lost in the cataloguing of his features.
Wide gray eyes that smoldered. Midnight black hair. Full lips that looked like they were on the verge of smiling. Straight Roman nose, and a square jaw. He was beautiful. She wanted him on a canvas, just like he was now, his brow lightly furrowed and his eyes concerned. There was something so familiar about him.
“Are you all right?”
Abbie blinked, tried to form the words, and failed. Then she tried again. “Uhm, yeah. I think so. Th-thank you.”
A blond guy stood nearby, holding an umbrella over the two of them. Finally Gray Eyes stood, pulling her with him. His hand was firm and warm, despite the chilly rain. “You have to make sure to look both ways okay?”
Again her brain stuttered as the whiskey-smooth texture of his voice rolled over her. She could listen to him talk forever. Quickly, she tugged her hand free of his. “Uhm. I–uh.” Mortified, she covered her face. “Yeah. Thanks. I'll be careful.”
He studied her with a quizzical expression then whispered, “Okay. Cheers.”
After quickly checking her camera for damage again, she stepped to the curb once more. Careful to look both ways–twice–she crossed the street to the opposing row houses. As she muttered the numbers to herself, tension ebbed out of her.
She stopped in front of the address Tamsin had texted. Before Abbie could even knock, Sophie yanked the door open with a squeal.
“Oh, my god, oh my god, oh my god. You’re actually here. I can’t believe it. Yay!”
The hugging came next. Abbie held her camera away from her body as her friend wrapped her arms around her and attempted to squeeze the air out of her lungs. Sophie was a big time hugger. Abbie, not so much.
“Hey, Sophie, you think you could actually let me in? The back of my pants are soaked.”
“Oh, of course. Sorry, babes. I was just so excited.” She stopped trying to administer the reverse Heimlich maneuver and dragged Abbie through an elegantly lit foyer with recessed lights and a slate floor. “What happened to you anyway? You look like hell.”
A gilt mirror hung in the hallway, and Abbie groaned when she saw her reflection. Her braided twist had come undone, and her make-up was now streaked and smudged, giving her the appearance of a wet, bedraggled Koala.
She followed Sophie into the ultra-modern kitchen and tried not to gape. The cabinets were red lacquer and the backsplash was red orange and gold glass tile. All the appliances were high-end stainless steel and the countertops were white marble. This was where Sophie lived? Tamsin's digs in Chiswick were nice, but this was opulent. “I had a run in with a Mini Cooper and a puddle. Do you have a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt I can borrow? I must look like a drowned rat.”
A low voice came from behind her. “I don’t know. You look well fit to me.”
Abbie jumped and whirled around. She made a quick assessment of him just like she did with all men and filed him into the preliminary category of not-a-threat. She studied him closer, unsure of what to make of the auburn-haired guy leaning against the counter. He was cute in a quirky way. With his shaggy hair and animated green eyes, she could see how his disarming smile made him even cuter. He had several tattoos on his forearms and one peeking out from the top of his T-shirt. Fantastic. His whole aura screamed trouble. But there was something inherently kind about his eyes.
Sophie giggled. “Jasper, behave, would you? This is my friend Abbie from Uni.”
Jasper uncoiled his lanky frame and strode over. She wasn't so sure about being in his personal space, but nevertheless, Abbie extended a hand to shake, but instead, he bowed and kissed her knuckles. Yeah. Charming as fuck. And he knew it. She tugged her hand back. “Nice to meet you, Jasper.”
“I promise you, Love, the pleasure is all mine.”
She turned to Sophie. “And you know Jasper how?”
“Oh, he's Max’s flatmate,” Sophie replied.
“Yeah, my room's just at the top of those stairs if you need or want anything.” He waggled his eyebrows.
Abbie sputtered and laughed. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
He nodded with unabashed good humor. “I've been told that before.”
Tamsin came from a hallway at the other end of the kitchen and hip-checked Jasper. “Leave her alone, Jas. She’s a friend of ours and isn’t ready for your flirtation assault.”
Jasper rolled his eyes. “Okay, fair enough.” He stood directly in front of Abbie, forcing her to take an automatic step back before looking up at him. “But if you come to me, all bets are off.” He winked before turning on his heel and jogging up the stairs to his bedroom.
Abbie couldn’t help the exasperated chuckle. “Is he for real?”
Both Tamsin and Sophie shrugged.
“Yeah, that's Jasper,” Sophie said.
Tamsin’s phone rang. “You two go ahead. I’ll catch up. It’s Liam.”
Sophie tugged her through an expansive living room into the back hallway that sported two additional bedrooms. “Sophie, this is incredible. Looks expensive.”
“Oh this?” She extended her hand and indicated the living room. “This is all Max. I’m just the girlfriend.”
Tamsin had been vague about the details when Abbie had pressed for information about Sophie's man. Maybe if she was lucky, she could meet the mystery guy. “What does he do for a living, and where can I get one of him?”
Her friend laughed. “Well, he's a model.”
Abbie's jaw dropped. “Of course he is.” Sophie lived one of those fabulous lifestyles you could only read about in Us Weekly.
Quickly, she donned the spare set of jeans and the T-shirt Sophie handed her. She immediately regretted the T-shirt, which had slashes through the sides and was almost completely backless. Sophie usually experimented with designs on her own clothes. “Uhm, thanks, maybe you have a sweater too?” Abbie asked hopefully.
“Somewhere in the kitchen, I think I left my jumper that goes with those jeans. We'll go look.” She continued happily chatting about Max. “Yeah, the modeling jobs pay nicely because he works often, but in addition, he renovates houses and sells them. And he rents out the spare rooms in this place. It’s got five bedrooms and a pretty nice garden.”