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I'm almost there when somebody grabs my wrist, fingers slipping around me like a bracelet, the touch gentle but firm. I turn, a champagne-fuelled smile painted on my lips, and come face to face with a broad, white-cotton covered chest. I stare at it for a moment, taking in the way the fabric is thin and close to his skin, before my eyes climb past the unbuttoned neck that reveals a covering of light brown hairs, to a jawline that's both familiar yet new.
“Amy.” Callum says my name quietly, and I have to lean forward to hear him over the music. I'm close enough to feel his warm breath fan against me. It's laced with liquor, the hint of whisky lingering in the air, and I breathe him in unthinkingly, liking the way he smells.
“Hi.” My smile remains. “I didn't expect to see you here.”
The pad of his thumb rubs circles into the sensitive underside of my arm, causing goose bumps to break out.
“Jonathan dragged me out,” he confesses. “This isn't my usual scene. He heard Susan Davies put her card behind the bar and insisted we made an appearance.” His eyes twinkle. “So here I am.”
He has to stoop to talk to me, leaning down so he can catch my eye. I see him in soft focus, the drink stealing any sharpness from my vision, and I'm not sure if it's only the champagne that's warming my belly.
“It is Friday night,” I say. “All work and no play makes Callum...” I trail off, not wanting to call him a dull boy.
“Rich?” he suggests, raising an eyebrow. His response makes me giggle, and I wobble a little, reaching out to steady myself against him. My palm spreads against his shirt, feeling the hard flesh beneath, as his fingers tighten on my wrist.
“Rich is better than dull,” I agree.
“That's what they say.” He doesn't pull away. “Although I suspect for a lot of women rich and dull is perfectly acceptable.”
“Not for me.” I slowly shake my head.
The corner of his lip twitches. “No, I didn't think so. You don't strike me as the sort to suffer fools.”
This makes me laugh. “You haven't met my ex.” I think about Luke and the way he treated me for years. I was the biggest fool of all.
“No I haven't,” Callum murmurs. “I don't think I want to, either. Exes are usually exes for a reason.”
“Well, Luke's reason is he was a cheating arsehole.” I don't know why I'm saying this, and to my boss of all people. But there's something about the way he's looking at me—and holding me—that makes me soften.
“Then he's a bloody fool.”
Somebody barges into me from behind, pushing me closer to Callum. My hand slips, splaying across the middle of his chest, and I can feel his pulse beating rapidly. My own body beats in time, my breathing fast and my blood thick. Somewhere deep inside my subconscious tries to make itself heard. This is my boss and we’re surrounded by work colleagues, but my body doesn't seem to be listening.
“Your heart is racing,” I whisper.
“So is yours.” His thumb presses into my vein, and the sensation sends a shiver down my spine. He lowers his head, staring straight into my eyes. “Why is that, do you think?”
His lips are so close to mine I can almost feel them. I'd only have to roll onto the balls of my feet to close that final inch, and feel the pressure of his kiss. Yet in spite of the alcohol running through my body I hesitate for a moment. My mouth is dry, my breath caught in my throat, yet I still can't pull my stare from his.
“That took fucking forever.” A voice startles me from behind. “I think Simon Jenkins has set up a coke factory in the men's toilets.”
I step back, pulling my hand from Callum's chest, and he lets go of my wrist. It falls to my side, my fingers curled into a fist as I try to work out what the hell just happened.
“Hi Amy.” Jonathan Cooper smiles, his head angled to one side. “I didn't know you were here.”
I pull at the neck of my blouse and try to look anywhere but at him. “I'm here with some friends. I was just going to the bathroom and...”
“She took pity on her lonely boss.” This time Callum's smile is tight, painted on for appearance's sake. “Thanks, Amy.”
“You're welcome,” I murmur. “I'll just... go.” I gesture in the direction of the toilets. “Have a good evening.”
“You, too.” Callum's voice is low, but it caresses my ears anyway. “I'll see you on Monday.”
“Monday,” I say.
I give them a half wave and walk away, feeling the warmth of their gazes on the back of my neck. My heart is still hammering, and the first thing I do when I get to the toilets is splash my face with cold water. Then I walk i
nto a stall, locking it behind me, and lean my head against the brightly painted wall. I'm torn between screaming and laughing, my emotions darting between elation and embarrassment.
