Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 145112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
I dial my mum, needing to hear her voice, not that I can tell her how miserably everything is going.
‘Eleanor,’ she says, so happy to take my call. My despondency fades a little, and, grabbing my coffee, I spin around, set to walk and talk, but as I turn I’m met with something I became all too familiar with yesterday.
Something navy wrapped loosely around a stubbled throat.
What the hell?
My coffee cup starts to shake, like the slight flutter of my heart has travelled down my arm to my hand, making it vibrate, and my phone sits limply at my ear as my mother repeats her hello a few times.
Him.
Cab thief.
Scarf thief.
Job thief.
The gorgeous, angel-eyed specimen.
‘I’ll call you back, Mum,’ I squeak, letting my phone slide down my cheek. I faintly hear her ‘okay’ before I end the call and slip my phone into my mac pocket. And that’s all I can achieve in the movement stakes right now. What is it with this guy? Three encounters in two days? London is huge. My gaze lifts, being pulled up without instruction, until my eyes find and root themselves on his lovely hazel orbs.
His handsome face breaks into a grin. ‘You shouldn’t have cut your call short on my account.’
‘I didn’t,’ I mumble, taking my eyes from his before they haul me under his spell.
‘We should stop meeting like this.’ He reaches over my shoulder to hand the barista a note. His voice. Good God, his voice. It’s stupid, but the only way I seem to be able to semi-function in the presence of this man is by keeping my eyes off him.
So I do just that, glancing around the coffee house. ‘Are you following me?’ I ask, switching my coffee into my other hand in the hope that movement might lessen my quivers.
‘Don’t flatter yourself, princess. I’m simply getting a coffee.’
Princess? ‘I am not a princess. And where’s my scarf?’
‘What scarf?’
His question flattens my sass, and I suck in a shot of air, my eyes flying to his. I’m not sure if it’s because of shock, or that they’re simply greedy for more of him. He’s smirking. ‘The one you stole from me,’ I remind him, my head tilting, trying to read him. He’s smug.
On a shake of his head and a feigned confused look, he glances up to the sky. ‘I don’t recall.’
I laugh sarcastically. I’m in no mood for his games. Not today. He ruined my day yesterday, wrecked my chances of getting my dream job, and I’m not letting events repeat themselves today. ‘Have a nice day,’ I say tightly, turning and walking away.
‘What are you reading?’ he asks, pulling me to a stop. I look down at my bag, seeing the book I’m currently lost in poking out. ‘Miller’s Antiques Encyclopedia.’
He nods, approvingly. ‘The bible of the antiques world?’
‘Yes.’ I frown, studying him, thinking how familiar he is again. ‘Do I know you?’
‘You wish.’
Oh, the cocky bastard. I’m about to put him straight, but he steps towards to me, stamping out my intention with his closeness. My body locks up, I lose all sensible thought, and my words abandon me. He takes his coffee and walks closer to me. I’d move, but I’m too busy trying to keep my composure. He drops his mouth to my ear, and my eyes clench shut, my lungs going heavy, challenging my breathing. ‘I would ask you to dinner,’ he whispers provocatively, clearly aiming to sound sexy as fucking hell. It works. Despite my irritation at this man, I’m trembling in my heels, pulsing down below, and I’m really quite annoyed about it. ‘But I’m inclined to avoid women with stalking tendencies.’ He breaks away, turns, and saunters out, leaving me with my mouth hanging open.
‘I am not—’ My mind empties, distracted by his award-worthy arse as he strides away.
I exhale on a gush of air as I relieve my burning lungs. And before I know it, I’m going after him, not prepared to be left in a flummoxed state once again. Oh no. He’s done it twice to me already. Not this time. And besides, who said I’d accept his invitation, anyway?
‘Hey,’ I yell, rushing across the coffee house, nearly taking out a pensioner on my way. ‘Sorry,’ I say, breaking out into the fresh air. I see his back in the distance and march after him. ‘Let’s get one thing straight.’ I’m walking on his heels, my legs working fast to keep up with his long strides. ‘I am not stalking you. I’d say it’s more you stalking me.’
‘If it makes you feel better, princess.’ He tosses the words over his shoulder in the most annoyingly cool fashion.
Who the hell does he think he is?
‘And for the record, I wouldn’t have dinner with you.’
‘Okay, then.’ He strides away, but I keep on his tail, an irritated frown on my face.