“I bet I could make you feel better.”
Despite his smooth delivery, I bark out a laugh. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”
“I prefer tenacious.”
“I would prefer it if you understood the word no.”
He scrunches his nose, and I suddenly see what women see in him. I mean, there’s no doubt he’s good-looking. And self-assured. Plus, he can string a pretty sentence together. But I’m guessing it’s this air of boyishness that gets women to his bed. And I’ve no doubt those numbers are great.
“I don’t have difficulty with the word no. Not that I hear it very often, which might be part of the problem.”
I can’t help but smile. Boyish charm for the win? Maybe the small win in the form of a smile because that’s all he’s getting from me.
“I know. I’m overindulged by the women in my life. A lost cause.” The picture of false remorse, he shrugs.
“And there are lots of women in your life, are there?”
“Let me think. Well, there’s my mother. And my sister.” And all the women he screws on a casual basis, too. “Then my chambers are pretty heavily biased towards your sex.”
“Chambers?”
“It’s what a barrister’s office is called over here.”
“So, I shouldn’t worry if you ask me to come up and see your chambers sometime?”
“It’s on the ground floor,” he replies. “And you’re welcome anytime.”
“I won’t be visiting. Something tells me your chambers are pretty busy already.”
“I’d clear them out for you.”
I huff out an incredulous-sounding laugh. “I’m really not interested in becoming another woman dangling from your hook.”
“I’ve never heard it called that before,” he quips.
“You are . . .” I shake my head, lost for a way to describe him. Or maybe it’s more that whatever I say, he’d just twist it into a compliment anyway.
“Tenacious,” he happily supplies.
“The worst,” I amend.
“Harsh, Holly. Very harsh. Come on, I’m really good company. Sometimes, I’m even fun.” He does that cute nose scrunch again, and just as I begin to think I might give in, he adds, “I’m also a really great fuck.”
“Oh, you almost got me there,” I say with a rueful laugh and an admonishing finger waggle. “Almost.” And now you never will.
“Damn.” His expression twists. “Overshot with the fucking?”
“You think?”
“I mean, it is true. But I don’t usually blow my own horn.”
“Oh, I doubt that.”
His expression is suddenly a little shark-like. “That would be a wasted skill, Holly.”
“Because there’s no shortage of random women willing to blow it for you, I guess.” Barf.
“You’re determined to fill my mouth with words, aren’t you?”
And you’re determined to fill mine with something else.
“Besides,” he continues, his tone more conciliatory, “you’re not some random woman I followed out into the cold.” At the mention of cold, I shiver, wrapping my arms about myself again. “It’s you I’m interested in. Give me your number,” he coaxes, “I won’t bite.”
“Not unless I want you to, right?”
“The rule is, not unless you bite me first.”
“Unreal,” I mutter, though it sounds more like a laugh as my teeth begin to chatter. I move to brush past him when he stops me. My gaze flicks down to his hand, then up to his face, all traces of levity gone. I’m cold, and now I’m bored, and I just want him to leave me alone.
“I don’t have my phone on me.”
“I don’t remember you being as prickly as your namesake last time we met.” I almost deliver a retort when I realise he’s pressing a business card into my hand. “Take it.” For a moment, his words seem sincere as he folds my fingers over it and then his fingers over mine. “Now you have my number.”
“And the ball is now in my court?”
“Probably. Though I also know where you work now.” For emphasis, he taps the van over the catering company’s logo.
“Because that didn’t sound like a threat.”
“That’s just because there just happens to be a very fine line between a threat and a promise,” he answers smoothly as his hands find my shoulders, turning me to face him again. “A very fine line.”
If this is the part where he kisses me, I might just land my knee in his nuts. Or I maybe I’ll give in. Maybe I’ll let this very good-looking and confident man boost my ego. I mean, he’s obviously interested in me, and I could do with a little cheering up. But what’s more likely is that I’ll stick my tongue so far down his throat, he’ll never bother me again. Because my happiness shouldn’t depend on a man.
Especially one I’m not interested in.
I tilt my head, still undecided but willing to let fate decide. And she does. Pretty spectacularly.
“Griffin.”
As a deep baritone sounds through the darkness, my stomach drops to my feet. One word and I know instinctively who this is. I don’t know where to look, where to run, and seriously consider climbing into the back of the van and pulling the door shut. Because I might not be looking at Alexander, but I know I just heard him.
Oh, God. He’s here. The man you . . .
The man who . . .
A dozen deliciously dirty images flit through my mind. I almost don’t notice Griffin huff with an air of long-suffering.
“Excuse me,” he murmurs, his tone perfectly matching the roll of his eyes. “How may I assist you?” His back facing me, Griffin turns and ducks a lazy, half-assed bow that I think is meant to be funny.
But I’m suddenly not paying any attention as he man steps into the pool of streetlight, and his eyes meet mine. The knowledge in that gaze reacts like a tiny explosion inside me as though, for a second, I’m reliving my experience with him. Broad shoulders and chest, the amber hue of the streetlight accentuates the hollows beneath his cheekbones while gilding his fair hair.
But, damn, I hadn’t imagined how good-looking he is.
“Charles St John has arrived.” Alexander’s attention moves to the man standing between us. “You said you wanted to have a word with him.”
Griffin’s posture changes immediately, all business suddenly. He begins to move before, almost as an afterthought, his head twists over his shoulder. “Don’t lose that.” I follow his gaze to the card in my hand. “Or else.” And then he winks before disappearing back through the garden gate.
For a couple of well-heeled guys, their manners are atrocious.
Where’s my introduction?
But then again, we don’t really need one.
Loin girding? Well, that’s another thing.
10
Alexander
“Hello, Holland.”
My heart give a vicious pang. How many times in the past few weeks have I thought of her, my mind travelling back to that night in her hotel room? The scent of her hair and the satin feel of her skin. Too many times to count. Too many times to be healthy, that’s for certain. Not that it stopped me.