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His grey blazer, the scarf, his ridiculously good looks, and those shining hazel eyes.
Where are the thick-rimmed glasses? As if he’s read my mind, they appear, lifting slowly to his face, but he doesn’t put them on. He puts one arm of his glasses to his mouth and slips it between his teeth, and my eyes follow it the whole way.
Cab thief.
And now job thief too.
My gasp of breath steams the glass in front of me, my eyes shooting to his. His mouth stretches into a grin, his lazy eyes sparkling. He remembers me. I want to give him a piece of my mind, but I find myself clamming up instead. He’s the reason I’m wandering out of here feeling dejected. Or was feeling dejected. Now I don’t know what I’m feeling. Awe? Attraction? He must be a wizard, or something equally magical, because I feel like I’m under a spell. My mind is reeling off plenty of instructions, but they’re fading to nothing before I can act on them. ‘You.’ My pathetic accusation tumbles from my lips on a mere whisper.
‘Me,’ he confirms, as he cocks his head, looking me up and down as he slips on his thick-rimmed Ray-Bans. ‘Okay there?’
‘Yes.’ My reply comes out on a breeze of air, and when I should probably be pushing my way out of the revolving door, I find my eyes feasting on his striking face instead.
‘You going to stay there all day?’ he asks, a hint of humour in his tone. He puts his hands in his pockets and gets comfortable in his standing position. He’s flawless, even if he’s a rude arsehole. ‘Well?’ he asks as I nibble on my bottom lip, my hand tentatively lifting to the glass of the door as I rummage through my mind for words.
And suddenly I have one.
‘Twat,’ I mumble, feeling my awe leave me and irritation find me. ‘Thanks to you, I missed—’ Something collides with my back, and I’m suddenly moving forwards. ‘Hey.’ I dig my heels in, leaning back, trying to stop him from turning the door. I’m no match for him. I narrow my eyes on him as he continues pushing. ‘Having fun?’ I ask.
He gives me a small but wolfish smirk. ‘The greatest.’
I’m spat out of the revolving door, but not on to the street. I’m back in the reception of the auction house again. Frowning, I pivot to look beyond the glass on to the street. He’s standing there, his smirk gone, his eyes low and dark. For the love of all things gorgeous, he belongs in an art gallery.
His hand comes up, reaching towards me, and my eyes finally give up their focus on his stunning face. He pulls at something that’s trapped in the door.
Something black with white polka dots.
I gasp and reach up to my neck to feel for my scarf. It’s not there. My eyes snap to his again, finding more sparkles of mischief as he slowly winds the material of my polka-dot scarf around his fist. Oh good God, he has something of mine, which means I need to talk my legs into moving so I can get it from him.
Shit, this is ridiculous.
I barely lift a foot off the floor before my intention to claim back my scarf is halted. He lifts it to his nose and watches me as he inhales deeply. The muscles between my thighs go into spasm. I burn up. I can’t move. But I can talk. Just. ‘My scarf, please.’
He starts taking slow steps backwards, keeping my scarf where it is for a few moments before he slowly lowers it, revealing a smile that could floor every woman in a ten-mile radius. ‘Payment for saving you.’
What? Saving me? I’m jobless because of him. The man is delusional. And too fucking hot for his own good. I swallow and close my eyes, trying to gather my patience. It takes far longer than I’d like, and when I finally open them, ready to take on this annoying idiot, he’s gone.
Air hits my lungs and burns them, and my hand goes to my chest when the rate of my heartbeat suddenly registers. It’s frantic, wild, fighting within the constraints of my chest.
What on earth?
I push my way round the door and land on the street. He’s nowhere to be seen. My hand goes to my neck again, just to check my scarf isn’t there, just to check I didn’t imagine what just happened. My neck is bare. If my pulse wasn’t thudding in my veins, I would think I’d dreamed that.
Payment for saving you.
I laugh under my breath and start taking slow, tentative steps towards the main road.
No, arsehole, you didn’t save me. You ruined my fucking day.Chapter 2I let myself into the communal door of my building, just as I hang up to my mum. She seemed well – positive, actually. It was lovely to hear but difficult to match. I fed her a load of rubbish, told her my first interview went great and I expect to hear from them. I couldn’t tell her the truth.
