‘Pleasure, definitely.’ I think he’s still staring at my shoes, though I’m fairly certain it’s not a covetous thing. ‘Actually, I’m here to call in a debt.’
‘Oh?’ Pushing my hair behind my ears, my eyes rise in enquiry.He’s an accountant then? He doesn’t look like a debt-collecting heavy, anyway.
‘Yes, I’m here to collect on your rain-check.’
Ridiculously, my eyes slide to the window. ‘My what?’
‘I’m here to take you for coffee.’
‘Coffee?’ I repeat.
‘That dark sociallubricant.’
‘With you?’ I swallow, hopefully not audibly.
‘Don’t get too excited,’ he replies in a tone as dry as toast.
‘But I don’t see how that’s a debt.’
‘A promise is most certainly a debt,’ he teases warmly, but there’s something else there in his words—an undercurrent of steel causing goose bumps to break out across my arms.
This is a man unused to being turned down.
‘Maybe. But I don’t recall promising.’ Eyes down, I continue my bag filling quest.
‘The promise was definitely implied.’
‘I think you’ll find it was inferred,’ I reply with a snort.Great. So now I snort to ward off the interest of gorgeous men.
‘And,’ he adds, ignoring this, ‘you seem far too nice a person to hurt my feelings. And as for it being a good idea, how do you know without trying?’
‘I don’t think I need totryyou.’ I wish I could swallow the words at once; press rewind, suck them back in.
‘I come with a satisfaction guarantee.’
‘That’s not what I mean,’ I add quickly.
‘Just coffee,’ he replies, now sounding sincere. ‘Nothing nefarious. I promise.’
‘Sorry. Like I said, I’m busy. Flat out.’
‘Interesting choice of words. But busy... sharpening... copious... amounts of pencils?’ Lifting the almost industrial sized electric sharpener out of my hands, he turns it in his own. It’s about then that I notice the almost bare surface of my desk. ‘A serious business, I’m sure.’
As I raise my head, his gaze hits mine, serious eyes staring down. I’ve suddenly run out of words, every beat of my heart pounding so hard, it has to be audible.
Placing the sharpener back, he stands.
‘I’ll even carry your bag.’
‘You’re pretty full of yourself.’
Smiling lopsidedly, his eyes travel the length of my body again. ‘You know what they say,one minute a cock...’
The word does something a bit peculiar to my insides.Peculiar but nice.But my words don’t reflect those very visceral reactions as I mutter, ‘And the next just a bit of a dick.’
‘Ouch.’ He laughs softly, rubbing a hand across his delightfully stubbled chin. ‘I believe the aphorism goes,one minute a cock, the next a feather duster...’ He sounds almost hurt as his words trail away.
Oh, bugger. So much for not mistaking his intent. ‘I didn’t mean—’
