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I listen as he talks me through it all, his voice measured, businesslike. His attention on the road as he drives as conservatively as his car, letting people out at junctions, maintaining the appropriate braking distance and then some, not a digit above the speed limit. My lips quiver with an amusement I can’t quash. He is just so...unexpected. A fascinating contradiction.
And it makes me want to crack his exterior all the more.
By the time we arrive at the renowned fusion restaurant I am fizzing over with it, my smile impossible to dampen as he pulls open the door to the establishment. He gestures for me to precede him in and I pause alongside him, tilt my head back, lift my mouth to his ear and...
‘Would now be a good time to tell you I’m not wearing any underwear?’
His eyes flare down into mine, his jaw does that little twitch thing, and I walk on in. My smile building, my hips sashaying as my heels clip against the rich wooden floor. All the while I feel his eyes burning into my behind.
Warmth pools in my lower belly, excited little flutters rising up as I clutch my bag to my front.
Gotcha!
CHAPTER EIGHT
Valentine
THEEVENINGISa blur. A successful, Olivia-dominated blur.
She’s perfect. She says all the right things. Her passion lifts the conversation at the table, from the debate she sparks over the definition of homelessness and public perceptions, right down to her knowledge of the great strides Scotland has made.
As for me... I’m quiet. Frustrated. Angry.
Angry that she would stoop to that level tonight of all nights, when her focus should be wholly on the charity and what we are here to achieve, what—
‘Wouldn’t you say so, Valentine?’ Angus, the greying politician who’s made it his final job to see England follow the same path as Scotland, prompts, his thick brows drawn together as he looks to me for input.
And he’s not looking for input on the knickerless state of our dinner companion to my left.
‘I’m sorry?’ Jesus. She’s not the one off the ball. I am, but entirely thanks to her. ‘What was that?’
Olivia’s eyes sparkle as she looks at me, the tiny upturn to her lips telling me she knows exactly where my head is at.
‘We were just discussing how important it is to change the widespread and often fatalistic and cynical view of homelessness if we are to inspire more support.’
‘Yes, absolutely.’
And so the evening continues...in much the same vein. Her giving me a masterclass in what I already know—how to schmooze and develop rapport with people—while my head keeps replaying her words in the doorway.
‘Would now be a good time to tell you I’m not wearing any underwear?’
She’s in her element beside me, close enough that I can’t break free of her scent. Close enough that I catch glimpses of the slit in her dress that rides higher and higher each time she crosses and uncrosses her legs. It was in a movie once, white dress, blonde woman being interviewed...and, just like her, Olivia knowsexactlywhat she’s doing. By the time the meal comes to an end and we’re back in the car, just me and her, I’m wound up so tightly I worry I’ll crack a tooth.
‘Why so moody?’ she murmurs.
I don’t even glance her way. It’s bad enough that she’s in my peripheral vision, her exposed thigh almost glaring at me, and I grip the steering wheel tighter.
‘Why would you do it?’
‘What?’ Her tone is pitched with innocence and it only riles me further.Vulnerable. I thought her vulnerable. She’s not vulnerable. She’s foolish. Risky. Wild.
‘Pull a stunt like that.’
‘Were you at the same dinner? I got the impression we—’
‘You know that’s not what I’m referring to.’
My eyes flit to her lap, I can’t help it; it’s driving me crazy. Crazy that she wanted me to know. Crazy that it was all I could think about throughout the entire evening. Crazy that I wanted nothing more than to pull her from that table and do every debauched thing that came to mind. Spanking her at the top of the list.
