And then I’m not laughing anymore as her expression changes, the random thoughts rolling around my brain dissolving as more sensible ones begin slotting into place.
We all lie. It’s a fact of life, and a one-night stand doesn’t owe you anything, much less honesty. So why does it feel like I’ve just been sucker punched?
‘Yeah, so I’m Fin.’ She tips her chin, raising her arms to cross them, halting mid-motion. She slides them down her backside as though expecting to find pockets there. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never given a girl a false name.’
‘Hand on heart,’ I reply solemnly. ‘I never have.’ And that’s the truth.
‘Really?’ Her tone drips with scepticism. ‘I find that very hard to believe.’
‘I also have the decency to hang around until morning. I don’t creep out during the wee hours.’ Her cheeks, already pink from the wind, turn a satisfyingly deep red. ‘Touch a raw nerve there, did I?’
‘I don’t... I never...’
‘Let’s just call it even, yeah?’
She nods and holds out her hand. ‘FinolaRosalieHayes.’
‘That’s some name. Did your parent’s not like you, Finola Rose? Or maybe you were just an ugly bairn?’
No idea where that sprung from; so much for calling it even. And if she was an ugly baby, she definitely blossomed into nothing short of beautiful. She’s stunning even in anger, and there aren’t a lot of women that can pull that off, or so I’ve found. Contrary to popular belief, not all women are hot when enraged. It’s an emotion that twists more than just the mind. Not Rose—Fin, though. The way she looks as she straightens is almost imperious as she pushes the wind-whipped strands from her cheek like she can’t believe they’d dare be anything but perfectly behaved.
She’s so fucking hot.
But all of this, I know, pales as to the way she looks when she comes.
Like it’s something new. Something unexplored. Like something I want to see again.
‘It’s Fin,’ she says coldly, ignoring my childish taunts and retracting any semblance of embarrassment or regret. ‘You say we have a meeting scheduled? I think you must be mistaken, unless...’ And then it’s her turn to appraise me, though maybe not as hungrily. I get the impression she’s trying to place who I might be. ‘You—you’re not from the office in London, are you?’
‘Nope.’ My answer is immediate. She’s not the only one who can lie. I’m hardly dressed for the office, not suited and booted as I usually spend my days; I can be whoever I want. And right now I want to be the man who gets inside her knickers within the next few hours. It’s not like she’s going to be with the company long term; she’s not an employee... technically. No, definitely not. This situation’s nothing like Anna. For a start, we won’t be working out of the same office. Second, she’ll only be with us a matter of weeks. Third, we’ve done the dirty deed already.Isn’t life grand!
Hear that, Kit? Thinking with my big head, not the little one, like you said.
‘Then do you mind telling me why you’re here?’
Again with the superior tone. I’d like to hear her try to keep that up while she’s riding my face.
‘Sure,’ I answer smoothly. ‘But why don’t we discuss it over a brew?’
She hesitates, clearly conflicted. So I smile blandly. Sure, she’s ballsy, but that could be to mask her discomfort. We’ve screwed, but she doesn’t know me from Adam and she’s here, alone on a secluded beach, with me. She has every right to be concerned.
‘You know, the only thing I could murder right now is a cuppa.’ She laughs, her hand moving quickly to smother both it and her smile. ‘I’ve been working on a job miles away and have come straight from there. Offer me something wet and warm—’Sorry, absolutely not. Not one jot, and also not able to keep a straight face at the sight of hers right now. Talk about scandalized. ‘—then maybe you can show me around.’
‘Show you?’ Her stunned gaze swipes over me once more.
‘You mean they haven’t told you? I’m here to play with some of your more delicate stuff.’
‘Delicate—’
‘Needs versus wants. I’m very much a hands on man and definitely what you’d call an expert.’
‘You—you’re—’
‘Here to look at the gardens. Did I not say?’
God loves a chancer, or so my granny is wont to say.
