‘Did you orchestrate this entire thing?’ I splutter.
‘Believe it or not, I’m as surprised as you are.’ His eyebrow lifts one way while the curve of his smile lifts the other way.
‘I’ll fetch the wine list and leave you two to get acquainted.’ The waiter bows, ignoring our exchange.
Only when he leaves the room do I dare to allow my eyes to meet Ollie’s. ‘I’ll go. I just need a minute. I wasn’t expecting…’ My voice cracks, unable to fully formulate the rest of the sentence. To prevent embarrassing myself further I take a sip from a glass of water from the beautifully laid table in front of me.
‘Clearly, seeing as you gave me the brush off, not once buttwiceduring the week. You were looking for something, what was the word again?’ He clicks his fingers as if it’s suddenly come to him. ‘You were looking for somethingdifferent.’
He throws my own words straight back into my face. I don’t get the chance to explain what I’m looking for isn’tcasualbefore the waiter returns with menus.
‘Are you a red or white kind of woman?’ Ollie thumbs through the extensive wine list. I’d say it’s fairly safe to say I’m red – very red – in the face a least.
‘You aren’t supposed to be drinking. What about the match tomorrow?’ Vibrator or not, despite my best intentions, it seems like I still haven’t managed to fully shake the goody two shoes in me.
‘I can have one. Drink, I mean.’ He eyes me over the top of the menu.
‘Are we seriously going to have dinner together?’ I clear my throat, to move the saliva clogging it.
‘Someone, somewhere, thinks on paper we make a good match. We’ll never get a better opportunity to find out.’ He shrugs.
‘I can’t believe somebody behind a desk matched me with you,’ I blurt before I can overthink it.
‘Is it so hard to believe?’ His pupils dip towards the scoop of my dress before returning to bore heavily into my eyes again. ‘Were you still holding out hope for a surgeon?’ His voice is teasing but that hint of vulnerability perforates his tone again.
‘I’m not disappointed with their selection in the slightest.’ I cross my legs before they can extend under the table and wrap themselves around his waist because that is the primary thought occupying my mind. I’m worse than any rugby fangirl. Worse than even a teenager.
The waiter returns before he can respond. ‘Perhaps the lady would prefer a beer with her dinner? Or perhaps a gin and tonic? I can get you a Bombay Sapphire? With a slice of lime?’
‘Wonderful, thank you. Please make it a double.’ I have a feeling I’m going to need it.
‘I’ll have the same,’ Ollie says in that deep gravelly voice, giving nothing away.
‘Make his a single; he needs to perform in a few hours.’ The waiter stifles a smirk and nods, leaving us alone again.
The same chemistry wrenches at my insides like the moon pulls the tide. Is it the allure of breaking the rules? Or is there something phenomenal brewing between us? I’m not sure. The only thing I am sure of, is that Ollie Quinn is the man I’ve been trying to get out of my head since the second I laid eyes on him. He’s the man that’s all wrong for me, for more than one reason, yet someone, somewhere, with a spreadsheet and a carefully calculated formula deemed him to be very right for me. Could it be a case of so wrong, it’s right? Could he really be the full package? Is Mr Casual really looking for something serious? And if so, why not with me? At this point in my life, I can’t settle for anything less than serious. I certainly can’t throw my career away on it.
‘Do you want to hear something really funny?’ He leans across the table as if he’s sharing a secret with me.
‘Enlighten me.’ I take another sip from the water, hoping it will cool the flush stealing into my cheeks.
‘Eddie signed me up to this damn thing. He registered me on this site.’ A disbelieving chuckle falls from his lips.
‘It would be funny, if it wasn’t so tragic,’ I say.
‘Why is it tragic?’ His head tilts to the side questioningly.
‘Because apart from the fact we’d be starting a war if anything happens between us, the only time we discussed anything about us, the word you used wascasual.’
‘And that’s worse thandifferent?’
‘Touché.’ My tongue traces my lips, remembering his mouth on mine, how our tongues moved impeccably in time to an unsung song. ‘I suppose what I meant is, I don’t really do casual. It’s never worked for me before.’ I don’t add that nothing truly has.
He sits back in his chair, gazing thoughtfully at me. ‘You might yet be the death of me, young lady.’ The way he says ‘young lady’ is a stark contrast to the tone in which anyone else has ever used those words on me. It’s explicitly sexy rather than condescending.
He continues before I can reply. ‘That kiss nearly blew my mind. The midweek workout almost gave me a heart attack. It reinforced everything I’d hoped for the first time we met. Then you blow me off – again – you’re pretty good at dangling the bait, reeling me in before throwing me straight back out to the sharks. But I agreed with you that it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.’
‘And now?’ I’m barely breathing.
