Namely me.
Shit.
“Could you just drop me off around this corner,” I direct the cabbie, slicking on some lip gloss, shoving a square of mint gum between my lips and pulling my crinkled paperwork out of my bag to ensure I have the correct address.
Throwing a purple twenty-pound note at him, I tell my driver to keep the change, ripping the door open and hurrying out to meet my client.
My heels click loudly against the uneven concrete pavement beneath me as I set off at a quick jog, the wind blowing my chock full of dry shampoo, unbound, locks of hair behind me.
“I’m here!” I say, waving my papers to gain attention. “I’m here! I’m so sorry I’m late—”
I stop dead in my tracks, eyes fixated on one of the tall, brunette men in the group.
Because it’s him.
My one-night stand.
Blake.
His green eyes narrow upon seeing me, almost as if he’s trying to place where he recognises me from. I don’t usually want the ground to swallow me up, but I do right this fucking second; my skin heating up uncomfortably under his watchful gaze.
I’m pretty sure he doesn’t remember who I am. Great.
Swallowing dryly, I move my line of sight to the willowy, dark-haired woman standing just to Blake’s left in a bid to escape his heated stare.
But today, it seems, the universe isn’t on my side.
“Oh my god,Calla?” She grins brightly.
“Giselle?” I croak out.What the actual fuck is going on?
“Calla?” Blake repeats my name, but I can’t decide if he’s testing my name on his tongue or simply repeating Giselle’s words.
I nod my head. “Blake.”
“Do you three all know each other?” asks the man standing on Giselle’s other side, his hand intertwined with hers.
“Calla attends my dance class once a week,” Giselle answers, pushing her sunglasses to sit on the top of her head.
“And you two?”
Blake’s body language hardly shows any sign of recognising me, his face impassive, which is why the next six words out of the mouth take me by surprise. “We slept together a month ago.”
I sputter, waving my hand in front of my face, to ward off the crimson heat threatening to crawl up my cheeks.Why the fuck am I blushing?
My head spins as I hold Blake’s stare – his eyes so much colder than they were the night we slept together. But I hold fast, unfaltering. And why shouldn’t I? I’m not embarrassed at the night we spent together, and if Blake is, then more fool him.
“What have we missed?” I flick my sight away at the sound of another voice piping up, finding another tall, brunette man, around the same height as Blake, coming to join the group. The short, curvy brunette woman holding his hand, smiles at me.
I return her friendly grin, tucking my papers into the crook of my elbow and lifting up my palm to shade my eyes from the harsh sun and the sparkly glint coming from the brunette woman’s rock sitting prettily on her left ring finger.
“You’re late” Blake states, his line of sight snapping from the lithe man I’m guessing is his brother and back to me.
Licking my gloss slicked lips, I try for my best award-winning smile. “I apologise for that. But you see, there was a cat stuck up a tree and I—”
Blake folds his arms, an angry slash against his toned body.
“I don’t want to bore you with the story,” I try again, stepping forward and sticking out my hand. “I’m Calla Becker. I’m guessing you’re my client. Mr B M, is that correct?”
