Page 34 of Read My Lips

“Babe..?”

What on this blue-green Earth was he doing?

Now she was clutching Simon’s forearm, a peel of pretty laughter absorbing into the walls. Turned bodily towards me, he dusted a non-existent speck off my shoulder. Phoebe’s hand stuttered in mid-air on the way to dropping down to her side.

“Ben’s a little shy.” Simon’s expression edged from coy flirtation towards gratuitous obscenity.

I spluttered. Ben bloody well was not. Why was he pretending we were together? She already knew that film wasn’t us.

This was what Sev was warning me about in the car. All the carrying on I’d enabled. The three of them could go at it. By the time we got through this, I’d be cured of my doomed crush. Bring it on.

“Darling, don’t be.” Phoebe’s hand went to my forearm instead – what was with all the touching? – and it sat there, like a pet tarantula I didn’t dare disturb. “I’d love for us all to become such excellent friends.”

“Erm..?” I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to play along. “Great.” What would be wrong with us all being friends, anyway? Oh Jesus. As if she wasn’t angling for a foursome I had no interest in being part of.

Just above my arse, right on the waistband of my jeans, Simon’s hand pressed in more solidly, and I wished he’d do more than keep it there.

“Temp, let’s stick to business. Did Beau Monde get in touch about exclusive wedding access? We can’t drop the ball on that.”

Phoebe exhaled heavily. “Yes. And they want a feature on maternity bridal couture. Lucky me being memorialised as the veritable embodiment of fertility and procreation. The be-all and end-all of monogamy and matrimony.” She rolled her eyes.

“You make it sound terrible,” I muttered. It can’t have been all that bad.

“It is terrible, darling. Utterly excruciating. If it wasn’t for this sprog and all the inheritance nonsense we wouldn’t be doing it.”

“Oh.” I frowned. The glossy magazines weren’t covering that side.

“And now there’s all this pearl clutching nonsense about this film clip. We’re so grateful it’s you in charge of sorting the whole mess out, Simon darling. Richard’s been beside himself worrying you’d be for the chop. So have I. Ever-so clever to come up with this little plan.” She leaned against the billiard table like she planned on staying put. “I have to say, Simon’s been keeping you terribly quiet. It’s so intriguing.”

“What can I say? Ben’s a marvel.” Simon’s face stayed amiable, but I saw the edge of irritation dulling his grin. “Getting this footage locked down is going to be a tremendous help.”

“Yes. Of course. And afterwards, the pair of you simply must let us thank you.” She smouldered at me. A little bit Katherine Hepburn. “Properly.”

“Um?” Oh god. I shot Simon a panicked look, and he visibly schooled his expression. No help at all. That innocent face was a blatant lie. “Actually, Lady⁠—”

“Oh pish, do call me Temp. Everyone does.”

“Right. Temp, I – we’re not- I’m not⁠—”

Casual as fuck, Simon pressed his lips against the side of my neck, above my collarbone, and licked me. The tip of his tongue rasped against my pulse point; I juddered incomprehendingly as my brain rolled over and waved its legs in the air like a labradoodle.

“Sorry Temp,” Simon purred. Utter bullshit. The bastard wasn’t sorry at all. “Lovely offer. But Ben doesn’t play in groups. This one’s all mine.”

She gave a playful eyeroll. “Oh, fine. The virtues of monogamy blah blah blah. I suppose I’d better let you get on with it. How dull.”

I nudged Simon’s arm as soon as Temp swept out of the room.

“What the hell was that about?”

Mine, he’d said, like it was nothing.

“Hm?” The zip on his suitcase buzzed as he opened it out, right on top of the playing surface. His eyes flitted between my mouth and my eyes – ready for my words, same as always. “I don’t particularly enjoy people thinking I’m reliant on you to have a perfectly ordinary conversation in a social setting.”

“Right. Wait, what? I meant the other bit.”

Face blank, he titled his head in silent question, like nothing about what had happened was unusual. Because licking me was such an everyday occurrence it hadn’t registered? Damn it. The irritant of a man was going to make me spell it out.

“Last time I checked Babe was a pig in a movie.” And by spell it out, I meant not directly reference it at all. Because now was probably not a good time to shove him up against the table and try my luck.