‘Naked might be the name of the game,’ I mutter to my reflection as I wash my hands. ‘But there’s such a thing as too soon. Too easy, right?’
My reflection doesn’t answer, but the Nordic looking blonde who exits the cubicle behind me frowns.Frowns as she steps around me. Frowns as she washes her hands. And, yep, she’s still frowning as she leaves.
‘Maybe they’re a serious race of people,’ I mumble. As no further answer is provided, I dry my hands and leave.
The way into the restaurant is blocked by a couple of drunks—more city jackass types. They’re probably called Giles and Tarquin, or something equally ridiculous.
‘Excuse me.’ I tap one shoulder of the swaying pair. ‘I need to get by.’
‘Oh, an ’merican,’ the heavier of the two says as he turns, his accent denoting him as someone Robin would call atoff—someone who attended private school and who has more money than brain cells. I roll my eyes in response to they way he’s looking at me. ‘A girl with attitude. I like it,’ he scoffs—a sort of scoff-slur.
‘Had an American au pair once,’ says the leaner of the two.
‘Did you?’ the first asks, turning his head to his companion on a wobbling neck.
‘Yep. Over the kitchen table. Girlfriend at the time wasn’t terribly pleased.’
The pair begin to bray.Yep, I called it—jackasses.‘Come on, guys,’ I say firmly. ‘I need to get past.’
‘Say please,’ the first replies, reaching out as though to touch my bare shoulder. I step back out of his reach, squaring said shoulders as I wonder which one I’ll knee in the balls first. ‘Say please and give us a little kiss.’
‘I don’t kiss frogs.’ His friend begins to laugh, so I serve him a share of the stink eye. ‘And I don’t kiss pond scum, either.’ His laughter stops immediately.
‘What did you say, bitch?’ I open my mouth, a retort balancing on the end of my tongue, but I’m beaten to it.
‘What the fuck is going on here?’ At Keir’s barely suppressed growl, the pair turn.
‘This has got nothing to do with you,’ Fat Kermit says, drawing himself taller. Taller, but not tall enough. Keir towers over the pair. He’s older. Broader. And despite his dapper appearance, he looks a little wilder, too. In the growl from his lips and the razor-sharp focus of his gaze, he makes the two of them look like schoolboys searching for a fight; inexperienced and ineffectual.
‘I suggest you leave the lady alone and get yourselves back to your champagne.’ His words drip with disdain.
‘Do you know who I am?’ Fat Kermit says indignantly.
‘Nope. Nor do I give a flyin’ fuck. Just do yourself a favour and step away from the girl.’
‘Or what?’ He puffs up his chest. Maybe he’s a toad, not a frog.
‘Or I’ll break your face.’
‘I could have you arrested.’
‘Aye, but not a’fore I break your face,’ he answers reasonably.
‘Come on, Tristan,’ Pond Scum mutters, pulling on his friend’s arm. ‘It’s not worth it.’
Tristan seems to weigh up his friend’s words, eventually answering, ‘You’re right. She’s not worth it at all.’
‘You wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like this,’ Keir growls as the pair shuffle away. ‘Discretion is the better part of valour, eh lads?’ He watches them leave the bar before turning to me. ‘Why’re people always threatening me with arrest when I’m around you?’
When I don’t answer, the smile slips from his face. I don’t get the sense that he’s worried about my lack of words, but rather it’s like a temporary mask that’s slipped away. His eyes scan my body as though assessing me for signs of handling or fingerprints.Fierce. Possessive. Like he’d punish me for their attention.
The last thought sets off a lightbulb in my head. He likes hard, angry fucking. Like a chain reaction, my heartrate trips, setting off a deep fluttering in my belly because maybe I like that, too.
‘Paisley,’ he says urgently, taking me in his hands.Not his arms. ‘Did those fuckers frighten you?’
I wet my suddenly parched lips; his eyes follow the motion, though I feel he does so almost reluctantly. My voice sounds scratchy when I finally speak, my pulse tripping so hard in my neck I can actually feel it. ‘I want to leave.’
‘You want me to take you home?’ His words are even, completely void of inflection, the mask back in place again.
