Perhaps other women had also received snack packs with thoughtful little notes? Maybe it was part of his game plan, his modus operandi: ply all the woman in the office with chocolates, tell them all he loved them, and then get them in the back seat of his car and onto his lap? If his playboy reputation was anything to go by, that was definitely his plan. Well, whatever he was doing, it didn’t matter, since I wasnevergoing to date him . . .
“Hey!” I turned. He whom I was thinking about was now running towards me, enthusiastically.
“I see you got through the bag without incident,” he said, pointing to the finished packet in my hand. I felt a sudden stab of embarrassment at the fact he knew I’d just guzzled them down like a little hungry piggy.
“Yeah. Thanks. You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to.”
I kept silent. He was leaning again, against my car—DANGER: Leaning may lead to horizontal activities.
“Do you want to go for a drink?” he asked.
“I don’t drink anymore,” I said, moving away from the dark mysterious man leaning against my dirty car. He was going to get one hell of a shock when he pulled away and realized one half of his suit was now tan.
“Since when?” His words were smothered in playful naughtiness.
I blushed. “Since it drives me to make terrible impulsive mistakes.”
“Like what?” His voice was deep and husky again. He shot me a playful wink, which, despite all my self-control, made my knees weak. I mentally berated myself for being such a weak-willed woman and then stood up straight again, ready to battle this sexual force of nature.
He was smiling and I could tell he was trying to lure me into some kind of flirtatious game. Well, I wasn’t going to fall for those sotto tones and dreamy, chocolaty bedroom eyes. I folded my arms and shot him a pointed look. “Like ending up in the back seat of a car with a stranger.”
“Really!” He feigned shock. “And here I thought you were a good girl with those librarian glasses.”
For some reason, at the mention of my glasses, I fiddled with them, which seemed to make him smile even more.
“I’ve got to go.” I turned and slipped my keys into the car door—invented before such modern things as battery controlled locking mechanisms—probably batteries too.
“Coffee then?” he asked. His hand slid over mine and I slapped it away.
“I’ve already had far too many cups today.” I jiggled my keys around; there was a certain trick to opening the lock—especially since my father tried to pick it one night in a rather lame attempt to steal it.
“Decaf?”
I sighed loudly. A long, loud exasperated sigh. “Why? Why do you keep asking me out?”
He slid his shoulder closer to me, “I told you—”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re in love.” I said it sarcastically and mockingly.
He opened his mouth and was just about to say something when Angie walked past.
Perhaps it’s important to pause here and take this opportunity to talk about Angie. Before Ben, she was the one everyone drooled over. The one that everyone whispered about. Her creative genius was legendary. Her amazing fashion sense was envied by all. The uber-cool fact that she was also a deejay and played in trendy exclusive clubs at night made her just that much more desirable. In short, she was the kind of girl I imagined Ben with.
“Bye, Ben, see you tomorrow. Can’t wait to start work on the shoot,” she said as she ran her hand through her ridiculously trendy mint-green hair and pranced across the car park like a ballerina.
Ben held up his hand and flashed her one of those killer smiles. “Not as much as I’m looking forward to it.”
I scoffed so loudly that I actually think she heard. I went back to jiggling the key.
“What?” he asked innocently, as if he didn’t know what he was doing—please!
“In love with her too?” I asked, as I finally managed to get the door open.
“No. Just you.”
I climbed into my car feeling a whole array of emotions I wasn’t sure I understood, or liked. I barely knew this guy, so why the hell was I acting like this? I was just about to close the door when Ben stuck his leg out and stopped it with his foot.
