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Timeslid into slow-motion as he watched the piggy cookie jar wobble back and forth, back and forth—before it finally tipped over the edge.
‘Pierre!’ she called out.
Butit was too late.Pierrelay shattered on the floor.
2
Jessleanedagainst the hallway wall while the gorgeous but annoyingly serious stranger entered a code into a panel stuck to the flat’s door.Atleast the fact that he knew the code corroborated his story about being related to her host.
Shesquinted at his profile.Withhis timeless salt-and-pepper hair and sexy stubbled jar, she found it hard to guess his age.Somewherein his mid-to-late thirties?Thescar across his dark eyebrow gave him an intense,JasonMomoalook, although that’s where the resemblance ended.Thisman had a slimmer, muscular build.Hereyes wandered down his tall frame, past his brown loafers, and landed on the box on the floor that contained the cookie jar formerly known asPierre.
PoorPierre.Shewished it had been the other one.
Awhirring noise preceded his pushing the door open.Hestepped aside so that she could enter first, which made her laugh bitterly.Agentleman like her ex,Krish.
‘Thankyou, er…what was your name again?’
‘Gabriel.’
Fromthe way he said it, she could tell that he’d already given her this information.Embarrassed, she ducked her head as she passed him, so she wouldn’t have to meet his stern brown eyes.Shestill couldn’t believe that she’d slapped him.Whatmust he think of her?
Shethought she had sobered up considerably in the past ten minutes and now believed she could walk in a straight line without making more of a fool of herself than she already had.Evenso, she kept her hand on the wall as a precautionary measure.
Herfingers glided over the light switch and she flicked it on, illuminating her quaint studio flat ‘in the beating heart ofMontmartre’, as the write-up said.Shehad liked it because it was colourful, unlike many of the other options on the rental app, which were cold and crisp, decked out in sterile whites and tasteful greys.Thisflat felt boutique and artsy, more in line with the romantic, bohemianParisin her head.
Theman dropped her things on a square, wooden dining table and turned towards her, his expression disapproving, which made her feel chastised even though he hadn’t said a word.Herbrain knew she shouldn’t have drunk so much while alone, but asKrishhad said to her when they broke up: ‘Theheart wants what the heart wants.’
Andher heart had wanted two bottles of red.
Hereyes fell on a third bottle, left on the table as a welcome gift by the host.
Followingher gaze, he plucked it up and plopped it in his bag. ‘Notfor you,’ the man said.
‘Hey!’ she objected. ‘That’sstealing!’
‘You’llthank me in the morning.’Hewent into the small kitchenette to fill a glass with water.Walkingover to her spot against the wall, he thrust the drink at her. ‘Here.’
Hewatched her guzzle it down and, with an exaggerated frown that mirrored his, she handed the empty glass back to him.Hegrunted with satisfaction and returned to the kitchenette to repeat the exercise.
Jessdidn’t like being treated like a naughty school child, especially by a man with such amazing cheekbones who looked so good in linen.Hisphysics-defying light blue shirt managed to be both loose and tight at the same time.Linen’smost basic quality was that it appeared airy and breezy in all situations, and yet she clearly saw his defined pectorals.Therolled-up sleeves revealed corded forearms.Samewith his jeans.Hissolid thighs were hugged by the denim.Theoverall effect of the whole outfit was one of sexy, easy-going comfort.
Andas though that weren’t enough, he had a scarf.Linen, again.Darkblue.Wrappedexpertly around his neck in the way theFrenchhad mastered.ABritishman might have the same scarf, yet fail to achieve the same stylish look of ‘Hey,Ijust threw this on.’
Itall made her feel rather aroused.
Shedecided to say something intelligent. ‘Didyou know thatI’mdrinking the same water that a dinosaur peed out?’Itwas true.Thewater on earth now was exactly the same water that had been on it when the earth began.Asa primary school teacher, her brain was awash with these sorts of interesting but useless facts—a quality that made her an excellent addition to any pub quiz team.
‘Fascinating.’Clearly, he was unimpressed.Hegave her the second full glass, and she drank it, slower this time, watching him as she swallowed.Wouldit kill the man to smile once in a while?Shereally wished he’d stop looking at her with those judgmental brown eyes.Hergaze flicked to his scarred eyebrow, which added to his generally angry countenance.
Filledwith the bravery that comes from alcohol consumption, she blurted, ‘How’dyou get that scar?’
Hereached up and touched it as though he’d forgotten it was there. ‘Afghanistan,’ he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
‘Oh!’
Notthe answer she’d expected.Hadhe been a soldier?Ormaybe a spy?Hedid seem to have a talent for languages, switching betweenAmerican-EnglishandFrenchwith practised ease.Maybethose were just two of many.Maybehe was a poly-git.Poly-goblin.Poly…oh, whatever.
Hisscar, on top of his close affinity to linen, only added to his mystery and stoked her arousal.Shehad already checked his hands for a wedding ring.Nothingthere.Hernew motto was,Bemore spontaneous!Whatcould be more spontaneous than sex with a hot stranger?Thedouble bed was only a few steps behind her under the window.Thatwould show her ex-boyfriend.Ha!
