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I watch as she swirls the glass in her hand, her eyes lost in the movement of the drink and then they lift, pierce the mirror, pierce me.
My lungs still, my breath caught in some weird suspended state...but she can’t see me, I’m in the shadows, and yet that feeling she sparks returns tenfold, stirring up something deep, long forgotten.
I shift in my seat, look away. It’s time to go. I’ve seen enough. She’s nursed the same drink, not even touching it until now. And, whatever she’s here for, it doesn’t matter; it’s enough that she’s crossed the threshold in the world of Public Relations. It isn’t just some falsified rumour designed to discredit her.
I rise, turn to leave, but the bartender catches my eye as he pauses before her, says something that has her turning rigid. I can see her eyes dance in the mirror, see her cheeks streak with a flush of colour as she nods and then she’s lowering herself from the stool. One long, creamy leg unfolding to reach the floor, followed by the other. Her red-soled black stilettos making her appear taller, all the more slender as she rises up...
Her dress, what there is of it, shimmers in the lights, the draping curve to its back sashaying as she turns and faces me head on, and I lose the ability to breathe once more. The dress ends mid-thigh, the high front and full-length sleeves contrasting with the skimpy rear, but the way it clings to her with that accentuating shimmer...
She’s something else.
I force my eyes up, take in the sleek ponytail, blue eyes and alabaster skin and realise with a surge of heat inside just how much I’m attracted to her. And I haven’t felt that kind of pull in so long.
I blame the alien environment, the carnal longing thrumming off the crowd. It’s messing with my status quo. I haven’t wanted anyone since Layla and no brief visit to a den of iniquity will change that. No matter what my reawakened body is trying to tell me.
Icontrolit. Not the other way around.
I learned my lesson the hard way. And it really is time to leave.
I turn and smack into something.
‘Shit!’ it curses. Big brown eyes stare up at me as something cold and wet seeps through my shirt and glass shatters on the floor at our feet. It’s the waitress from moments ago, her tray now devoid of drinks and stuck flat between us.
I step back. ‘Apologies.’
‘No, I’m sorry, I’ll just...’
But I’m no longer listening. Every eye in the vicinity is now on me, on us.
Including hers. Olivia’s.
Bollocks.
CHAPTER TWO
Olivia
ITURNTOfollow the bartender as the sound of breaking glass snags my attention. A pretty brunette waitress is clutching a tray to her chest, her eyes wide as she blinks up, up and up at a man so broad and so tall he dwarfs everyone around him.
I watch as the girl blurts what must be an apology, watch her cheeks flush pink as she drops to the floor. And then his eyes flit in my direction, long enough for my heart to trip over itself, but not long enough that I get to drink my fill of his chiselled appeal.
It normally takes a good filter and camera angle to pull it off. But he’sau natureland I’m gawping, the new me eager to take in more...eager but he’s not obliging. He’s angled away now, crouching down to assist the waitress in the clean-up, and I’m left with the memory of the look he sent me. The slight flare to his eyes as they widened with...with what? Awareness, recognition...a mutual desire?
Because I don’t know him. I’d remember if we’d met before. He doesn’t have a face or frame you could easily forget.
I watch as they pick at the glass, marvel at his profile. He’s striking even from the side, all angular cheekbones, square jawline, and a curl in his dark overlong hair. The lights are too low to make out much more and I feel myself step closer, just a little, and sense the bartender pause as he realises I’m no longer following him.
‘What’s...’ His voice trails off as he follows my line of sight and nods. ‘Ah, I see. I can invite him to watch if you like. The viewing gallery is quite the experience and I’m sure he’ll appreciate the time to dry off.’
My eyes snap to him, a quick shake of the head.Good God, no.
He gives a low chuckle. ‘If you should change your mind...’
‘Keep walking.’
I follow his chuckling form up the stairs and have the oddest feeling the stranger’s eyes are back on me, making me regret my impulsive no. But can you imagine?
It’s taken me three weeks just to get to this point, to have the courage to fill out the form, both asking for and consenting to what is to come, and I’m dizzy with it. To add him to the mix...
