‘Sure, no problem,’ she said, pulling the headphones that he’d bought her from around her neck and cradling them in her hands.
He nodded at them. ‘How are your headphones working out?’
She gave him her first genuine smile in days. ‘They’re great. I love them. Fantastic sound quality. You certainly know the way to a girl’s heart.’ She seemed to freeze as if realising she’d said something entirely inappropriate.
He stepped towards her, not sure exactly what he meant to do, but unable to stop himself. ‘Glad to hear I haven’t lost my touch,’ he said with a smile, continuing the move by leaning against the wall next to her.
His stomach plummeted when she took a quick step back.
These little rejections were starting to get to him. They reminded him of the small moves away that Marcy had started to do towards the end of their relationship.
He wished it didn’t have to be this way with her, but since they’d made that pact over dinner about keeping things professional she’d been friendly, but stand-offish with him.
He could understand her reasoning for it, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
‘Well, I’d better get on,’ she said, raising both eyebrows and smacking her lips together. ‘Don’t want the boss to catch me slacking off, who knows what sort of punishment he might dish out,’ she murmured in that seductive voice of hers. Flashing him a cheeky grin, she swivelled on the spot and walked off, leaving him staring after her retreating figure with a bemused smile on his face and a pressing concern in his trousers.
Okay, maybe professional and stand-offish was easier to handle.
* * *
The interview was a disaster. Tristan knew as soon as the guy walked in that he wouldn’t fit the ethos of the station. He was too straight, too stuffy, too jobsworthy.
When Lula asked him some pointed questions about his vision for the station it was clear he thought she wasn’t important enough to engage with and addressed all his answers to Tristan instead.
No way was he going to hand over the running of the station to such a chauvinist idiot.
‘What did you think?’ Lula asked after the guy left, clearly hoping he hated him as much as it sounded like she did.
‘Totally wrong. No way.’
She blew out a breath and relaxed back into her chair. ‘Thank God for that. I don’t think I could have worked with someone who treated me as if I was invisible.’
The flash of hurt in her eyes made him want to go over and pull her against him, to wrap her up in his arms and give her the reassurance she visibly craved.
This impulse must have shown on his face because colour rushed up her neck and her gaze shot away from his and down to where her hands now gripped her thighs, as if she was fighting urges of her own.
Forcing himself to maintain a façade of cool, he flipped her a smile. ‘Ah, don’t let him get to you. The guy was clearly an idiot of the highest order. I suspect he’s the type who feels emasculated by smart, attractive women.’
Something sparked in her eyes and she opened her mouth as if to speak, but shut it again and gave him a grateful smile instead. ‘I’d better go,’ she said, inclining her head towards the door. ‘I’ve still got a tonne of research to do on a music producer I’m interviewing tomorrow.’
‘Okay.’ He watched her get up from the chair, wondering what was going through her head at that precise moment. If it was anything like the notions he’d been conjuring up since her ‘punishment’ remark there was no wonder she was finding it hard to hold it together.
‘Lula,’ he called out, as she reached the door, not wanting her to go yet, but aware he didn’t have a good reason to ask her to stay.
She turned and faced him again, her brows drawn up in question. ‘Yes?’
There was a beat of silence while he thought of something suitable to say. ‘Thanks again for helping me out with the interviews. I really appreciate it.’
Her shoulders appeared to relax and she smiled, as if she’d keyed herself up for something that now wasn’t going to happen. ‘It’s my pleasure,’ she said, before opening the door and striding purposefully away.
Despite the brief diversion into flirty banter, the next week went pretty much the same way as the previous one—with her still avoiding him as much as possible or keeping things polite and professional when she had to be in his company.
His frustration grew by the day and he found himself deliberately going out of his way to be in the same room as her or sit next to her whenever the opportunity arose just to feel her vibrate with the same tension he experienced whenever she was in his vicinity.
It gave him a perverse satisfaction to see her squirm. She was obviously feeling the same heat he was and he became more and more determined to get her to show it.
He needed to prove to himself that he wasn’t the sort of guy that women—that she—could walk away from easily.
They interviewed two more candidates together who’d applied for the Station Manager’s job, but Tristan hated both of them.
He was beginning to feel a little possessive about the station now that he was getting to know the staff better. The place had an exhilarating, ever-changing buzz about it and he was surprised to find himself less and less inclined to get back to his business in Scotland.
His second in command seemed to have everything under control there—bar a couple of things that needed Tristan’s specific attention—which was both heartening and humbling. He’d always thought things there would fall apart without him, but apparently he wasn’t as essential to its smooth running as he’d imagined.
When his father had handed over the running of their business to him after he finished University, he’d felt the great weight of responsibility to their family legacy on his shoulders. He hadn’t realised just how much it had consumed him until he’d stepped away from it.
Despite the minor knock to his pride when he realised he wasn’t as essential there as he’d imagined, he felt lighter and freer than he had in a long time.
Working at Flash had been good for him.
On Friday afternoon he was finishing off the schedules for the following week when the broadcast assistant, Claire, knocked on his office door.
‘Hey, Tristan, we’re all going out for drinks this evening to celebrate my birthday, fancy coming along?’
He could tell from the colour on her cheeks that it had taken some courage to come and ask him. Even though he made sure to be friendly to the staff, Claire in particular still treated him with detached reverence.
He thought about it for all of two seconds. ‘Sure, I’d love to.’ He hadn’t done any socialising with the staff since he’d started working here and he was gratified that they’d want to include him.
Perhaps Lula would be there too tonight and he’d get an opportunity to spend some time with her outside of work. Maybe he’d get her to loosen up around him in a more relaxed environment? To show some more of that spirit that bubbled underneath the surface of her control.
Memories of how they’d loosened up the last time they’d been out together flashed through his head and a sizzling heat swept through his body.
The sight of Claire’s delighted smile dragged him back to the present.
‘That’s great! We’re meeting at eight at The Zetter Townhouse cocktail bar on Clerkenwell Road. See you there later,’ she said.
He raised a capitulating hand, still a little distracted by his erotic recollections. ‘Sure. See you there.’
* * *
Lula stood in a cobbled square in front of a row of golden-bricked townhouses with white stucco frontages and checked the text from Claire again to make sure she’d got the right place.
To the right of her was the blue door that Claire described and next to it a discreet plaque with the name The Zetter
engraved on it.
Yup, this was it.
Pushing the door open, she took a deep breath, readying herself to be sociable.
It was good for her to be here tonight. She hadn’t been out since the meal with Tristan—apart from a slobby night over at Emily’s place watching a film and drinking a questionable new cocktail her friend had concocted.
She’d somehow managed not to mention Tristan’s ongoing existence in her life to her friend, sure she’d be in for a thorough interrogation about him, which she wasn’t prepared to handle at the moment.
Quite honestly she wasn’t even sure she’d have the energy to stay out for long tonight. Getting into the routine of regular early morning rising from Monday to Friday, that the Breakfast Show required, was taking longer than she’d anticipated and having to go in each day and act all cool and indifferent around Tristan wasn’t doing much for the state of her nerves either.
The guy seriously knew how to rock her boat.
She seemed to spend most of her day in a state of sexual agitation and every time he came within ten feet of her, which was surprisingly often—in fact she suspected he was doing it deliberately to rattle her—she turned into a gibbering wreck.
But she was determined to put him out of her mind and have fun tonight. She deserved to raise a glass with her colleagues to her promotion as Breakfast Presenter—something she hadn’t managed to find the time to do before now.
It was comfortably dim inside, the dark red walls and long bookshelves groaning with leather-bound books adding an air of stately elegance to an eclectic mash-up of vintage furniture. It felt a bit like an eccentric, rich old uncle’s time capsule house.
There was already a large gathering of people lounging on purple velvet sofas, boxing in a long, low glass display case which was being used as a table. It had a random collection of old looking objects inside it: yellowing handwritten letters, brass compasses and a stuffed rabbit wearing a top hat.
The place was kooky as all heck.
Claire, as birthday girl, sat at the head of the table and Lula gave her a wave before going over to the bar to grab herself an orange and soda. If she even had a sniff of a cocktail tonight she’d be done for.
Lula located a bit of space on one of the sofas and slid into it. When she looked up from finding a place for her drink amongst the litter of cocktail glasses she was shocked to see Tristan sitting opposite her, giving her one of his killer smiles.
Her insides turned to goo.
What the heck was he doing here? Had Claire really invited their boss to her birthday do? And had he accepted knowing she’d probably be there? Not that he shouldn’t be allowed to socialise with the staff, but these were her friends.
She experienced a rush of frustration with him for turning up and hijacking her night with his befuddling presence.
How was she meant to relax tonight and make intelligent conversation with Tristan sitting there looking like his sex god self in her peripheral vision?
She gave him a quick nod of acknowledgment and turned to talk to the man sitting next to her, doing her best to ignore him.
* * *
Tristan’s pulse had given an electrified stutter when Lula appeared and slid onto the sofa opposite him, but he’d been frustrated when she’d only given him a curt nod and turned away.
Well, he wasn’t going to let her get away with ignoring him all night here too.
After chatting for a while with a couple of the radio engineers from the station about who was the best live band at the moment, he disengaged himself from the conversation and covertly watched Lula over his tumbler as he sipped his Whiskey Sour. The guy sitting next to her seemed to be regaling her with a monologue that had her captivated and she didn’t once glance his way, which narked him. He didn’t believe she felt nothing for him any more. It wasn’t possible, not after the intense connection they’d shared.
She spent a lot of time listening to people, he realised, watching as she nodded and encouraged the guy to elucidate on his point. He suspected that’s what made her so good at her job.
He spent a moment sizing the guy up. He didn’t recognise him from the station so by deduction he must be a friend of Claire’s. Blood rushed to his head as he watched him put a hand on Lula’s knee. The guy clearly thought a lot of himself, judging by the way he kept smoothing a hand over his ridiculous on-trend hairstyle and lounging across the sofa as if he owned the place.
Tristan was unnerved by how protective he felt towards Lula and how frustrated he was that she was the only person he wanted to talk to tonight and she was sitting on the other side of table being openly pawed by some cocky youth who was totally beneath her.
As he watched with narrowed eyes she stifled a yawn behind her hand and glanced round, catching his eye.
The connection between them seemed to sizzle the air as they stared at each other. She didn’t need to say anything for him to know she needed him to rescue her.
Standing up, he navigated his way out of the group and round to the back of the sofa where she was sitting.
Leaning down between her and the youth, he gave her a friendly smile.
‘Hey, Lula, how are you doing?’
Her pupils seemed huge in the muted light of the bar. ‘Not bad, but my new boss is a bit of a slave-driver so I’m pretty wiped out.’ She shot him a teasing smile, which he returned, pleased she was joking around with him again. ‘I was thinking about heading off soon actually,’ she continued, her gaze sliding away from his. ‘Need to get an early night in.’
‘Yeah? Me too. I’ll walk out with you,’ he said, standing up and waiting pointedly for her to do the same.
He missed the flirty banter they’d had between them and this was an ideal opportunity to get her on her own and talk freely without the worry of being interrupted or overheard.
Her look of surprise swiftly turned to apprehension. ‘You don’t need to do that, Tristan—’
‘I know that, but I’m pretty done in too. I’ll walk you to the tube. I’m in an apartment in St Pancras now so it’s on my way.’
‘You’re not in the hotel any more?’ From the pink hue of her cheeks she was evidently thinking about the night she’d spent there with him—just as he was now. Blood roared through his veins and he shifted behind her, attempting to disguise the incongruous effect the memories were having on him.
‘I thought if I was going to be here for a couple more weeks I’d be better off renting a short lease apartment. A friend of mine owns a place in the clock tower of St Pancras station.’
‘Really?’ She widened her eyes, her interest clearly piqued.
‘Yeah, it’s a great place. Good location.’
‘It sure is.’
There was an awkward silence.
‘Okay. Let’s go,’ he said, not wanting to give her an opportunity to back out.
She studied him for a few more beats.
From the way her eyelids flickered, he felt sure she was having another of those internal arguments in her head.
‘Okay, that would be great,’ she said finally.
After saying their goodbyes to a rather inebriated Claire, who was now happily being charmed by another of the foppish youths in the party, they exited the bar into the cool night air of the cobbled square.
‘I should have made it clear we weren’t leaving together,’ Lula muttered, frowning hard at the door they’d just closed behind them.
‘Want me to go back and make an announcement to the bar about how we’re not going to sleep together tonight?’ Tristan teased. He was gratified to see her mouth twitch into a begrudging smile.
‘No!’ She slapped him gently on the arm, her touch leaving an echo of sensation on his skin. ‘That would really set tongues wagging. Protesting too much, and all that.’
He grinne
d, resisting the urge to bend down and kiss the pseudo scowl off her face and gestured for her to start walking.
After a couple of steps she stumbled on the cobblestones and he instinctively took her arm, feeling her tense beneath his grip, but she didn’t pull away.
Her body felt warm and solid next to his and her hip bumped gently against his thigh as they walked, only increasing his desire to push her into a dark alleyway and make a mockery of his last statement.
They strolled in edgy silence as they navigated their way through the narrow cobbled back streets of Farringdon towards the tube station.
‘Are you really living in the clock tower at St Pancras?’ Lula finally asked.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘That’s just so...’ She searched around for the word she was after, her cheeks glowing pink with the effort to locate it.
‘Pretentious?’ he supplied, grinning at her growing frustration. ‘Ridiculous? Showy?’
‘It’s just so goddamn cool. How do you manage to make cool seem so effortless?’
He snorted. ‘I didn’t realise I did, but thanks for the compliment.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘You want to see it?’ he asked, fully expecting her to shoot him down, but unable to stop himself from pushing at her—craving the satisfaction of watching her break and admit she wanted more than detached politeness between them too.
She glanced his way, her eyes wide with excitement. ‘I’d love to see it—if I’m not imposing on your evening too much—just a quick glance—I’ll run in and out—I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like in there,’ she said, her voice breathy at the end of the run-on sentence.
Her verbiage amused him. It proved to him that he still had the desired effect on her—although she was clearly determined to establish she wasn’t after anything more than a look-see of where he was living tonight.
No funny business, her expression said.
He smiled. ‘No problem. I’m not planning on going out again this evening.’ He wasn’t making any other promises though.
Fired by Her Fling Page 10
