Heat creeps into my cheeks. ‘Cait, I—’
‘Ladies...pardon my intrusion, but I believe I owe this one a date.’
Ash is so close I can feel his body heat penetrate my left-hand side. Cait is now staring in wide-eyed amusement. I don’t know whether to turn and smile or blank him entirely. The latter is what I should do, for refusing me earlier, but my body has a mind of its own and it turns to him. My eyes are quick to follow as they rise to his... Warm, friendly, apologetic, even.
‘You do?’
He smiles and my blasted insides soar, uncaring that he patronised and humiliated me earlier this evening. ‘I do. Can we start over?’
I look back to Cait. Her eyes are still wide.
‘Hey, don’t be looking at me—this is up to you... Not that I mind sticking around, though, if you like...’
She looks him up and down, blatantly happy with what she sees, and I kick her beneath the table. The move earns me a grin as she scoots over, glass in hand, and rises out of the booth.
‘Didn’t think so. She’s all yours, Ash.’
But as she straightens, she fixes him with a glare, her free hand reaching out to poke him in the chest.
‘Mark my words, though, buster: mess with her and it’s me you’ll answer to. I may be small, but believe me, I can bite.’ She punctuates the last three words with a jab of her finger and then turns and walks away.
Ash watches her go, clearly bemused, and it frees me to look at him—really look at him.
You’d think after all we’ve shared I’d be immune to him by now. Instead my eyes rake hungrily over him, taking in the same clothes he wore earlier, only now his sleeves are rolled back, his forearms deliciously bare, flexing muscle exposed and worthy of salivating over. My mouth does just that.
What the hell is wrong with you? my wounded pride mentally admonishes. Do you really want to go another round with him?
‘Got your fill?’
Shit. Caught staring. A great start at keeping your cool.
I pride myself for my front—it’s never let me down before. I depend on it to get me through each day, to be the perfect Coco Lauren. But it’s nowhere now. It’s taking a fucking holiday. Maybe that’s what I should be doing—hitting a deserted island until I can get this craziness under control.
Or you could go for the far less extreme coping strategy of not giving a fuck?
I smile to hide my mental roller coaster and decide to adopt my trademark Coco Lauren tone—the one I’ve perfected—and I’m sure as hell going to wheel it out now if it kills me.
‘Yes, you can leave now.’
I take my barely touched martini and sip it, the bittersweetness sliding smoothly down my throat as I fix my sights on Cait, now sidling up to the bar.
‘Okay, I deserved that.’
I don’t react. I keep my eyes on Cait and count to ten.
One, two, three...
‘Can I get you another drink?’
Four, five, six...
‘An espresso martini?’
Seven, eight, nine...
‘Coco, please...’
I don’t know whether it’s the gentle way he says my name or the fact that he has the gumption to slide into the booth that makes me look at him.