‘My brunch is over and my date isn’t.’The date who isn’t a date or the date who didn’t eat?‘And of course, you have plans. Let me at least walk you back to your table.’ Taking my passive hand, he threads it through the crook of his arm, an inexplicable flare instantly heating the pit of my stomach. ‘Are you here with a particular friend?’
‘No.’
Maybe I shouldn’t have answered so fast, watching the corner of his mouth curl.Before I have a chance to play it down, Niamh’s voice interrupts us from across the lobby and I grind to a halt.
‘Kitty-Kat, Kitty-Kat, where the feck have you been?’ Her voice lowers as she draws closer. ‘Don’t tell me—London. Buthedoesn’t look like a queen.’ Judging by her wonky nursery rhyme recital, her pink cheeks and sniggering, she’s had some luck with the buff one. Or an attentive waiter with a heavy pour.
‘Kitty-Kat?’ Kai asks with half a laugh.
‘Don’t ask,’ I grumble. ‘I’m not even a fan of cats. They freak me out.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he replies in a low rumble. ‘A little pussy never hurt anyone.’
I think my mouth might be open again. Surely I can’t have interpretedthatright. Before I can decide to be offended or turned on, Niamh is at my side.
‘No wonder you’ve ditched us, Miss,’ she admonishes, not so surreptitiously checking Kai out. ‘Who’s your man?’
‘Niamh, this is Kai.’ I pull my arm from his. ‘He works at the boys’ school at Al Mishael.’ At least I think he does. As explanations go, it’ll do for now.
Charm personified, Kai’s voice is almost a purr as he takes her hand and I’m strangely satisfied when he forgoes her European hello.
‘I was trying to persuade Kate to let me show her some of Dubai this afternoon. You wouldn’t mind if I stole her, would you? It’s such a beautiful afternoon.’ Lashes, thick and black, accentuate his wide and innocent eyes.Yeah, I’m not buying it either.
‘That so?’ As she releases his hand, she slides me a significant look. ‘Dark horse,’ shealmostwhispers, her expression one of mischief as she links her arm through mine. ‘That sounds... delicious.’ And then she giggles.
A giggling Niamh is not a good sign.
‘Thanks, but I think I’ll hang around here, all the same.’ I move my arm from hers, folding both across my chest before quickly unfolding them again. While I don’t want to appear defensive, I do feel the need for some kind of defence. Especially as part of me wants to yell,yes please!
‘Go on, you’re grand,’ Niamh reproves. ‘Sure, an afternoon with Kai sounds like just what you need. Remember what I said about needing a goodroide?’ She may be laying on her accent real thick, but I think he gets it.
‘Cars,’ I answer quickly. Nothing to do with sex. ‘We were talking about the traffic. Weren’t we,Neeve.’ I draw out each sound of her name, filling it with warning.
‘Sure,’ she replies as she turns, adding, ‘I’ll leave you to it. I came to find you because Matt said you’d gone to the bathroom,’ she calls over her shoulder. ‘I just wanted to be sure you hadn’t fallen down the pot.’
I might just have to kill her.
‘You’re sure I can’t tempt you? Like a snake with a cart full of apples, is the honest answer. ‘I do a mean guided tour of Dubai . . . ’
In spite of his languid and confident smile, I manage to shake my head and mumble, ‘Thanks.’ I’d meant it as a definite statement, but it somehow falls short.
‘Another time.’
I shrug lightly, air of indifference feigned. As he bends towards me, I think I’m in for my first European goodbye. Instead, his words breathe across my cheek.
‘I’m going to hold you to that.’
Blood pounds in my ears and I’m not sure if that one sentence, that small collection of words, was a promise or a threat. As he saunters away, I’m suddenly aware of a hammering pulse, and it’s not in my wrists.
‘You kept Heathcliff there quiet.’ Niamh meets me at the restaurant entrance, clearly not done. ‘I think I must be at the wrong feckin’ school. He’sgorgeous, so he is!’
‘I’ve only met him once, I wouldn’t get too excited. He was just being friendly.’
‘My arse. Any closer and the pair of you would’ve been dry humping in the foyer. God, Kitty, you’ve gone scarlet!’ she adds delightedly.
Scarlett by colour or by nature? I resist asking, instead whispering a harsh, ‘I’mnot interested.’ Blame the dream, blame the drink. Blame post fiancé low self-esteem.Blame anything.
‘Yeah, sure. Totally looked that way.’
