“Double whiskey?” he asked with a voice so low and warm, it could unravel a woman’s common sense without even trying.
I turned.
Dear God.
He was tall—ridiculously tall—with forearms that had bad intentions written all over them. He was tanned like he’d been poured from sunlight itself, with damp, dark curls framing his face, and just enoughscruff to make my mouth go dry. And yes, it really was a moustache. It shouldn’t have worked on him, but it absolutely did.
“Bold move for a Tuesday,” he said, nodding at my drink.
“I’ve earned it,” I replied coolly as I turned back to my glass, willing my voice steady. “It’s been a long day.”
“Can’t argue with that.” He leaned against the bar like he could belong anywhere. “Though personally, I’d have gone tequila.”
“You strike me as that type.” I smirked.
He grinned. “Oh? And what type’s that?”
“Cocky,” I said, taking a sip. “Probably thinks sleep is for the weak, but just charming enough to pull it off.”
“That so?” He leaned in slightly. “You think I’m charming?” he asked with a sly grin.
“I think you’re trouble,” I said, hiding a smile behind my glass.
He chuckled as if he weren’t used to anyone resisting. ?”You work with Gwen?”
“Freeloading off her passes, as always.” I tilted my glass. “Perks of being best friends with someone at the LTA.”
He nodded. “You do this every year, then?”
“Religiously.”
“What do you do when you’re not flirting with danger at Wimbledon?”
“Educational psychologist,” I replied.
His brows shot up, surprise flickering across his face. “So like…you’re a doctor?”
“In work, technically I’m Dr Kate Ashford.” I winced. “But I hate using that title. Makes me sound like a knob.”
He laughed warmly. “That’s impressive. You don’t look like a doctor.”
I raised a brow. “Should I be offended?”
“Not at all, I’m just surprised.” He tilted his head. “You’ve got more…edge.”
“Edge,” I echoed, amused.
“Yeah. Like you know more than you let on. You have a cool, slightly terrifying energy to you.”
“Sounds like you’re scared of me.”
“Only in the best way.”
That one landed. Harder than I wanted it to. This guy really was trouble.
“What did you think I was, then?” I asked, intrigued by his first impressions of me.
He shrugged, sheepish. “PR maybe? Or fashion. Something where you tell other people what to do.”
