Page 3 of Daring to Love

I blow the cat a kiss as I unlock my door, but as soon as I wrench it open, I squeal in fright as a very large thing in front of me stops me in my tracks. I blink rapidly as I take in a raised arm next to my head, and I automatically scurry a step back, ready to flee into my sanctuary if need be. I feel boxed in, a feeling I can’t stand.

“Amelie Winters?”

Resentment washes through me as whoever’s standing in front of me is currently preventing me from leaving my flat in a fiery storm. My heart beats frantically, my pulse quickening loudly in my ears, and I huff, hand on chest, as I try to settle my nerves.

“Hello?”

The word is drawn out, annoyed, and not to mention said in a very low, attractive baritone.

Wait, what?

Befuddled, I shake my head and try to put myself to rights, and I do what I’ve always done when I’ve been out of sorts. I find a focal point, and right now, that point is the wide thing in front of me. As my heartbeats and pulse slowly settle down, I realise that the thing isn’t a thing at all. Which, come to think of it, makes sense since the raised arm now lowers slowly, and I follow it and take in the loosely curled fist. The knuckles are coated with a dusting of light-coloured hair, alerting me to the fact that it’s a man. My head snaps up again and settle on his chest covered in a white T-shirt and black jacket.

Frowning, I raise my head further, my gaze resting briefly on his mouth, and I’m met with a smirk – a smirk, of all things! – from a set of full lips that instantly make my insides tingle. My breath hitches as my eyes travel up from those delectable lips to take in an almost square chin with a defined cleft in the middle, sharp cheekbones covered in days-old stubbles, and dark-brown eyes surrounded with lashes any woman, including me, would kill to have.

It isn’t until the man in front of my doorstep clears his throat that I’m able to find words.

“Yes?” I squeak.

“You are Amelie Winters, right?”

I clutch my bag tighter to my chest, ready to defend myself if I have to, and nod.

The smirk disappears from the guy’s face and is replaced with a disarming smile that makes me suspicious of his motives at once.

“Excellent.” He extends his hand to me. “My name’s Finlay Jensen. I’m here for the interview.”

“Interview?”

Blast!

He nods, patiently waiting for me to shake his hand, but if he thinks a boyish smile is going to make me topple over and fall at his feet, he’s got another think coming.

I try to force my lips into a smile, but the fright he gave me still lingers, and it doesn’t come easily to me.

“I’m sorry, but I’m on my way out.”

He frowns at me, the seemingly affable mask slipping, and I catch the annoyance that flashes in his eyes before he smiles crookedly at me.

“That’s a shame.”

I shrug and take a step forward, sidestepping him easily when he moves back to give me room.

“Not really. I didn’t know about the interview until ten minutes ago,” I explain, “and I was told it wasn’t until later tonight.”

“That’s odd. My editor told me to meet you now, here.”

Sighing, I give him half my back as I lock my door. “Sorry, but I’m late for class, so…we’ll reschedule, okay?”

“Can’t I tag along, wait for you at a coffee shop, and we’ll do the interview afterwards?”

I shake my head.

“I’m afraid I don’t have time today.”

He lets out a long breath, and I blink innocently at him.

“Why do I detect an unwillingness to let me interview you?”