‘Do you mind? I don’t have a whole heap of other options. I’ll find somewhere else tomorrow.’
‘No, I’ll find somewhere else. I took this place as a….’ The word “escape” flutters on the tip of my tongue before I catch myself. There’s no way I’m going to admit my horrifying social status to the finest man on the planet. ‘A last-minute thing.’
The heat of his eyes on mine burns my back as I strut towards the kitchen. I glimpse over my shoulder to check if I’m imagining the heated stare searing my skin. I’m not, but he drags his eyes away when he sees me looking.
I can’t quite believe it. Nate Jackson is looking at me. Really looking at me. He could have any woman in the world.
Though, technically, I am the only woman in the world here right now.
‘White or red?’ Definitely the most surreal night of my life.
‘I’ll have whatever you’re having.’ He slips off his leather jacket and tosses it on the back of the couch. A tight white t-shirt clings to prominent pecs, fastening around his huge biceps. Both arms are fully covered sleeve tattoos. I’ve seen his markings before on my screen. It’s just so fucking weird seeing them in person. Knowing him, but not really knowing him at all. It’s a battle not to run over to him and run my tongue over each and every weaving millimetre of ink.
‘I probably shouldn’t have any more.’ Given the events of the last weekend, and because every nerve ending in my body is alight with a painful new awareness that can only be attributed to the man with the blisteringly potent sex-appeal across the room.
I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one month.
Year.
Lifetime probably.
The only saving grace is Nate Jackson practically lives on another planet. There’s no way he’s seen that awful video of me, even if it did go viral. He’s so far removed from my little world he may as well be from a parallel universe.
‘And I probably shouldn’t be drinking with a strange woman who refuses to tell me her name, crucifies Mariah Carey’s Christmas cracker, and apparently fantasises about me.’ He fires a wink in my direction, a grin lighting his entire face. ‘But hey, I’m an action hero. I like to live on the edge.’
‘Does my name even matter? You’ll forget me in a heartbeat.’ I give in to the inevitable and uncork another bottle of Sancerre with a gentle pop. ‘And as for Mariah, what I lack in talent, I make up for in enthusiasm.’
‘You look pretty unforgettable from where I’m sitting.’ Teasing pupils probe, penetrating my skin and seeping right into my soul. ‘Now that we’ve cleared that up, perhaps you’ll elaborate on those fantasies…’
‘I’m only human,’ I shrug, taking two fresh glasses out.
My comment is rewarded with another rich, throaty chuckle. ‘So am I.’
Twin pebbles harden beneath the flimsy material and my cheeks burn once again.
In some mad twist of unfathomable fate, Nate Jackson shows up when I can’t possibly feel any smaller or stupider, and I’m pretty tipsy, but I’d swear the man is actually flirting with me.
I pour the wine, watching as tiny inviting drops of condensation form tantalizingly on the glasses. It’s a miracle my shaky hands don’t pour the liquid all over the floor. ‘So, you’re shooting in Ballybowen?’
‘You’re not some sexily dressed paparazzi, are you? A conniving undercover reporter, determined to go that extra mile to nab a front-page-worthy story?’ He readjusts his back against the couch, mansplaying across the velvet.
‘Ha. Do I look like the paparazzi to you? Believe me, if I thought I was getting company, I would have dressed a little more appropriately.’ I cross the room and hand over the glass.
‘You look pretty perfect to me.’ He takes it and pats the sofa next to him.
‘I’ll cut some cheese.’ Oh fuck. That was almost as uncouth as ‘I carried a watermelon’.
He swirls the Sancerre in the glass and sniffs. ‘Can you keep a secret?’
From behind the safety of the kitchen island, I pull myself together. ‘Of course.’ Taking a selection from the basket, I begin slicing French squishy brie, smoked applewood cheddar, and creamy looking Camembert.
‘You would say that though, wouldn’t you?’ That billboard-worthy smile appears again. It would be enough to ruin my panties. If I had any on.
My eyes lock with his across the room. ‘You don’t know me. You’re never going to see me again after tonight. Tell me, or don’t tell me.’
‘Oddly, there’s something trustworthy about you, even though youstillhaven’t told me your name.’ Those full lips press against the glass, and he takes a long sip. His Adam apple bobs with a raw masculinity as he swallows. ‘Nice wine.’
‘It’s too nice. It’s got me into more trouble than you could ever imagine.’ My chest constricts with a fresh wave of anxiety.
