I take a cautious sip of my drink and check my watch.
Ten minutes to eight.
Then five.
He’s not coming, is he? I try to remind myself I am early and he’s not even due yet, but that doesn’t change the fact, he’s not coming. Of course he’s not coming. I can’t believe I came. I’m about to resign myself to finishing my gin and tonic andsneaking out for a cheeky takeaway when a shadow falls across the table.
I glance up, and just like that, breathing feels like an optional activity. Oh Gosh! How can a man be so effortlessly gorgeous? And he’s really tall. I forgot that about him. His broad shoulders are currently filling out a midnight-blue, button-down, rather gorgeous shirt that looks like it was made specifically for him. He has paired it with a pair of low-swung, black jeans that perfectly hug his slim hips. His sleeves are casually rolled, showing his forearms in that careless way that somehow makes the veins on his arms more noticeable than they have any right to be. His glossy hair is slightly messy in that artful way that suggests he either spent a lot of time on it or none at all. And his jawline, yeah, I can’t ignore that. That jawline could cut glass. Definitely made in America.
He places a drink on the table, the exact same one I’m already drinking, which gets him a brownie point for noticing, and another for top-grade smoothness. I watch bemused as he slides down opposite me like it’s the most natural thing in the world to do.
“I thought you might want a refill,” he says, his voice low, his American accent even more sexy than I remembered it to be.
I swallow, suddenly aware of the flutter in my chest. He’s too good-looking for my liking. Nerves. Just nerves. Not attraction. Definitely not that.
“Thank you,” I manage, glancing at the glass and then back at him. “I’m Pippa, by the way.”
“Pippa. I like it,” he drawls, and he looks so adorable, my stomach flutters. He leans back, one arm draped over the back of the chair as if he owns the freaking place. Effortlessly hot. Effortlessly confident. “I’m Rhett.”
“Rhett?” I say with a frown. “I thought your name was Roger. From the text?”
His mouth curves into a grin, slow and knowing. “Roger Rabbit. It was… a joke.”
I feel the damned heat rush up my neck and fly into my cheeks. I try to hide it behind my hair, but it’s too late.
“You’re blushing … again.”
“I am not.” Except I am, and the smirk on his face says he knows it.
“Admit it,” he says, leaning in a little. “You walked right into that one.”
I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch despite myself. “So, you get me here under false pretenses, huh? We’re already off to a terrible start.”
“What’s in a name?” he says easily. “Rex. Roger. It makes no real difference to the date.”
“This isn’t a date,” I tell him quickly.
“Of course not,” he agrees, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Still, not a bad way to spend a Tuesday night.”
Ok, I’ll give him that one. I tilt my head, studying him. “So why did you even agree to this? Some random woman dressed up as Jessica Rabbit approaches you in a bar, and you think, yeah, sure, let’s do that?”
“Why wouldn’t I agree to this?” he says. His smile is quick and sharp. “What guy doesn’t want to date Jessica Rabbit? And I was in awe of your confidence.”
My blush deepens, and those gorgeous eyes lock on me, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
“It wasn’t confidence,” I say quickly. “It was a forfeit. I lost a game. This whole thing …” I gesture vaguely between us “… is the result of peer pressure and humiliation.”
“Well,” he says, lifting his glass and smirking. “Whatever it was, I’m a fan. Confidence, forfeit, whatever you want to call it. Not everyone would’ve gone through with it.”
I shrug, sipping my drink. “As long as you’re cool knowing this isn’t about the romance.”
“That suits me perfectly, actually,” he says smoothly. “I’m only in London for work, anyway. I figured I could use a break from hanging out with the same people from the office.”
“You’re American, right?” I ask, though his accent makes that obvious.
“What else can I be with a name like Rhett?” he teases.
“Let me guess. Your mother was a fan ofGone with the Wind?”
