Page 102 of The Puck Stops Here
‘No!’
‘You just made a noise like a mouse. You did it the other day too.’
‘I really did not.’
‘You really did.’ His mouth curved into that irresistibly sexy grin of his. ‘Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I squeaked the first time I tried Aiden’s pudding too.’
He leaned forward, his knee grazing hers as he set his empty pot down. Heat fizzed up her leg and she clamped her thighs together, shovelled in more pudding. Kept going until there was none left to distract her. Damn.
‘You should go into advertising…’ His gravel-like tone rasped along her skin as his eyes raked over her. ‘You’re making me want to go grab another.’
She gave an edgy laugh. ‘Ha, as if! Much better to leave that to the Aidens of this world.’
‘Yeah, it does take a certain kind of individual…’
She sobered as she remembered how she’d asked him about it on the street that first day, how she’d been so sure there’d been more to his reasons for not doing the same.
‘I know you said it’s not your scene, but you have the looks, the style, the whole package…’
He huffed. ‘Like hell I do, and I won’t fake it. Aiden’s the man that people should idolise and want to emulate. Not me.’
He pushed himself to standing, his self-deprecation no longer a surprise, but the ache it triggered in her chest. That was new.
‘Can I get you another drink – more wine?’
‘No. Thank you.’ Absolutely not, her inhibitions were already running low, and it was high time she left. But what he’d said… it bothered her. The way he put himself down while bigging his brother up. It had been there all through dinner too, driving the banter.
‘Coffee? We have decaf?’
She wet her lips, her ‘time to go’ spiel sticking in her throat.
‘A water would be great, thanks.’
She watched him go and took a breath. One that still caught the dredges of his aftershave and the air that felt too hot and heavy to go down easy. She wished she’d worn layers so she could at least remove one; even her legs felt clammy in her boots.
She weighed up a quick exit against stripping them off, and unzipped the leather before she could talk herself out of it. Slipping her feet out, she flexed her toes. Better. Much better. Then she dug inside her bag for her phone and messaged her mother:
Astrid
Mum, do I squeak?
‘One water,’ he said, reappearing beside her.
She set her phone down and took the drink, her pulse hitching as his eyes flicked to her legs, their heat rendering her ‘thank you’ inaudible as he twisted the cap off a fresh beer and took a long, deep slug.
Had she driven him to that?
Her brow furrowed. She hoped not. Especially with Aiden’s words ringing in her ears –she’s right, you shouldn’t be drinking.
‘Are you sure you should be having that?’
He shook his head, his smile wry. ‘Don’t you start.’
‘I’m not, I’m just saying…’ She wriggled into the sofa as she chose her next words with care. ‘If I was playing a big game tomorrow, I’m not sure my nerves could take it.’
‘I have it because of my nerves.’ He dropped down beside her, caught her expression. ‘Shocked you, haven’t I?’
‘No. Well, maybe just a little…’
