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“You know,” Donna said. “I think people would be hard-pressed to decide who was the most bad-tempered between the two of you.”
“Him,” both men said at the same time as they pointed at each other.
Donna laughed at the looks of horror on their faces. With a huff of irritation, Ewan stomped back behind his bar.
“What is it you want to talk to me about?” Duncan’s eyes were on hers as he sipped his Coke.
His hair was tousled from running his hand through it, his shirt was a tad too tight across his wide shoulders, and his jeans were moulded to thighs that made her mouth water. This was part of the problem. If Duncan had looked like Danny DeVito
, they wouldn’t be sitting here right now. Sure, she would have cared for him, and worried about him, but she wouldn’t be lusting after him with every cell in her body.
“Well, then?” He leaned back in his seat, folded his arms and gave her a look that practically dared her to say something he didn’t like.
There was no getting around it. Things had to be stopped between them before they both got hurt. She rubbed her temples. Who was she kidding? They had to be stopped before she got hurt.
Donna stared down at the table, knowing she couldn’t say what she had to while looking at him. “I don’t think we should do this.”
“Play pool? Drink Coke?”
She frowned at him, knowing full well he was being deliberately obtuse. “This.” She motioned between them. “The physical stuff.”
Relaxed, he reached out to pick up his drink. Of course, he wasn’t bothered. She meant nothing to him.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Hermione appeared beside Duncan to admonish her. You knew he was still in love with his wife before you ever touched him. You have only yourself to blame for this mess. She stuck her nose in the air. You should have listened to me in the first place.
“Go away,” Donna hissed.
Her eyes shot to Duncan, and she turned red. There was just no end to her humiliation.
“Who was it this time?” Duncan asked as though they were talking about the weather.
Donna drew patterns in the condensation her glass had left on the tabletop. “Hermione. She’s a know-it-all who constantly sticks her nose in where it isn’t wanted.”
“In other words, she thinks you’re an idiot for breaking up with me too.”
“What?” She sat up straight. “I’m not breaking up with you. We don’t have a relationship. We have one kiss and...what happened earlier, between us. That doesn’t constitute a relationship.”
“The words you’re looking for are screaming orgasm.”
Ewan walked past their table as Duncan spoke. “Neither one of you is getting anything with alcohol in it, so you can put those fancy cocktails right out of your heads.”
He carried on, leaving Donna’s face burning as she looked into Duncan’s amused eyes.
Duncan leaned forwards, resting his forearms on the table. “You seemed to enjoy your orgasm, Angel. Is there a reason you want to stop at one? Because I have a hankering to see how many I can wring out of you before you pass out from exhaustion.”
There were no words. All she could do was stare at him as her mouth opened and closed and her body screamed at her to take him up on his offer.
“There you are.” A voice cut into her shock, and she turned to see Flora and Joyce heading straight for them. “Grace said we’d find you here.”
They charged at her, a look of determination in their eyes. From the direction they were approaching, they couldn’t see Duncan, as he sat facing her with his back to them, shielded by the high booth partition. All they could see was Donna and the look of utter panic she knew must have been on her face.
“We need to talk to you about—” Joyce said, slamming her walker down on the floor as she made her way towards them.
“Duncan!” Donna pointed at him.
Joyce missed the gesture, too busy concentrating on her walker. “Not about him. You deal with him. We need to talk about—”
It was Flora who spotted Duncan first, and she put a hand on Joyce’s arm to stop her. “About the chickens,” she said over the top of whatever her partner in crime was about to say.
