“Maybe not, but you’re supposed to be on my side, so I’d rather you let me know if my boobs are out, okay? If you happen to notice, that is.”
His gaze slides to me. I lift my eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to be all professional and say you never look at my boobs?”
He returns his gaze to the road. “If I notice your clothing is askew, ma’am, I promise to point it out.”
“Askew? Where are you from, 1842?”
I continue to tease him like that until we reach the coffee shop, then continue all the way to work. Once we arrive, he gets out of the car and closes the door with a little more force than is necessary and heads to the elevator. I follow him, trying not to laugh.
It’s a short ride up to the ground floor, but he glowers all the way. When the elevator doors open, he says, “I’ll meet you back here at twelve thirty.”
“Yes, sir.” I salute him.
Rolling his eyes, he walks out toward the security office. I let the doors close, feeling smug. He’s a nice guy, but I don’t need a bodyguard! To be honest, having him around me all the time only makes me more nervous. I’d never considered that someone might break into my apartment, but after he checked it out last night, I kept thinking about it all evening. No, this is complete overkill, and the sooner I can get rid of him, the sooner I can get on with my life and put all this behind me.
*
At twelve thirty, I head down to the basement again and find Luke standing by the Range Rover, waiting.
“Good to go?” he asks, opening the passenger door.
I nod and get in, and he closes the door and goes around to the driver’s side. He starts the car, then heads out onto Shortland Street.
As he drives, he glances over at me. “Everything okay?”
I look down at my hands. “I’m nervous,” I admit.
“At seeing your ex?”
“Yeah.”
He doesn’t say anything for a while, concentrating instead on the road. Then he says, “You sure you still want to go?”
I look out of the window. “Yeah. I want to ask why he keeps messaging me. And why he sent me those roses. I don’t know what he wants. Is he hoping we’ll get back together?”
“Is that what you want?”
I hesitate. I do miss him… But then I think about how frustrated I felt when he frequently told me what to do. How angry I was when he said I should stop seeing certain friends because he didn’t like them. And what happened that night that led to us breaking up.
“No,” I admit. “I don’t think so.” I sigh. “I probably shouldn’t have worn this blouse.” I look down at myself and curse as I see my bra’s showing again. “I definitely shouldn’t have worn this blouse.”
I open the glovebox and ferret around inside it, hoping to find a safety pin, but to no avail. The only thing I do find is a stapler.
Luke slows, turns into a car park, slots the Range Rover into a space, and turns off the engine. I unbuckle myself, then stuff the material of the blouse into the gap between the two sides of the stapler.
“I can’t get the angle right.” I turn to face Luke. “Can you do it?”
“It’s a silk blouse,” he points out.
“Do you want me to keep giving Dom an eyeful?”
He huffs through his nose. “I’m sure you can do it yourself.”
I try, but the two sides refuse to meet. “I’m not strong enough, with all this material. Please, Luke…” I give him my best Puss-in-Boots impression.
Making an exasperated sound in the back of his throat, he takes the stapler and slides his fingers down to the bottom of it to get a better purchase. For a moment, the backs of his fingerstouch my chest above my cleavage. I inhale at the feel of his warm skin, shocked by the contact.
He presses the stapler, punching through the fabric, then removes it. “There.”
