I rolled my eyes. “Yeah,” I groaned. “He paid for my coffee,” I admitted with disgust.
“That bastard.” Ziggy stated sarcastically.
“Exactly,” I huffed. “I was minding my own business and he sex fogged me!”
“Umm…excuse me?” Ziggy frowned, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. “Sex fogged?”
“You know, when a guy surrounds you with his sexiness and you can’t think straight?”
He looked at me with a hint of recognition and then smirked. “Do I have one?”
I choked on a laugh. “A sex fog is not something you possess, Ziggy. It’s something you exude,” I corrected.
Ziggy’s brows rose slowly, and he folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll take that as a no, then.”
I shook my head at his silliness and then sighed once more at my predicament.
“So he’s to blame for your skittishness that day, is he? Figures.”
“No, that was because of my meeting.”
“Sure it was,” Ziggy eyed me suspiciously.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you weren’t you that morning. Now I know why.”
“You didn’t even know me until that morning, wise guy.”
“No, but I know you now and that person was not in the least bit you. The meeting was part of it, but it was deeper than that. It’s all starting to make sense. Do you like him?” He watched me closely, and I felt like it was a test. Only I sucked at the subject, having dropped out of relationship school years ago, so I’d definitely fail whatever I said. “Ah ha! You do like him.”
Shit, I waited too long. “I don’t.”
“Riiiight.”
“I don’t!”
“So, what’s the issue?”
“He just texted me.”
“You gave him your number, but you don’t like him?” he chuckled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“No, I didn’t, he found me.”
“Well, that sounds… perfectly okay… not creepy at all.”
“Right?”
“Has he been bothering you?”
I could see Ziggy’s concern escalate fast. “No, don’t worry, it’s nothing like that. He gave me his card, but I threw it out with my coffee cup after I bumped into you. I thought nothing more of it, but then he sent me flowers. I texted him to say thank you, so now he has my number. I told him I don’t date, but he’s…persistent.”
“How did he know where to send flowers?”
I realised it would just be easier if he saw for himself, so I found our text conversation and handed him my phone. His eyes rolled more than once while he was reading, and I chewed my lip, hoping he could tell me what to say that would make the whole thing just go away.
Handing my phone back, he grimaced. “He’s typing.”
“What?” I snatched it back and stared at the dots taunting me on the screen. “Oh, fucking hell.”
Ziggy returned to his previous folded arm stance and seemed to be waiting for the message too. I glanced up at him, and he looked expectant.
“Still typing,” I muttered.
“Jesus, spit it out, loverboy.”
“Can we not call him ‘loverboy’?” I asked.
“Creepy Creeperson?” Ziggy offered hopefully.
I frowned. “His name is Jonathan.”
“Jonny…Creeperson?” he suggested. I looked back at my screen, shaking my head. A new message had popped up.
Jonathan: How are you? I’ve been hoping to run into you again, but I haven’t had any luck. Are you buying coffee elsewhere to avoid me, by any chance?
“Jeez, desperate much?” Ziggy muttered, leaning in to read the message at the same time as I did.
“I’d hardly call that desperate,” I defended not entirely certain why.
“Please, that’s only three stalker levels under, ‘I’d like to see more of you, but you keep closing your curtains.’” Ziggy’s eyes widened to emphasise his point and he wound his finger around in a circle to indicate crazy.
“He’s not that bad.”
Ziggy’s face lost all hints of amusement, and he looked confused. “Well, go out with him, then.”
“I don’t want to date, Zig, you know that.”
“So, tell him no!” He sounded exasperated and headed back to his desk. That was not the sympathy I wanted.
“You’re no help,” I grumbled as I saw another message come up on my screen.
Jonathan: I’d really love to see you again. Have dinner with me?
I huffed, feeling pretty exasperated myself.
Me: I thought I explained why that is not a good idea.
He was typing immediately.
Jonathan: No, you explained why lunch isn’t a good idea. Dinner is different.
Good lord! He had to be a lawyer.
Me: It’s the same thing. Stop looking for loop holes. I don’t date.
Jonathan: You won’t even give me a chance to change your mind on that? Coffee, even? And if I can’t convince you, I won’t bother you again.
I sighed.
Jonathan: Come on…30 mins out of your life to get rid of me for good. It’s got to be worth it, right?
Me: And what if I don’t convince you?
Jonathan: Beautiful Bea…if you are as certain as you insist, then I don’t stand a chance. It’s win-win for you.
Jonathan: Unless you’re scared you’ll want to see me again…
That did it. I didn’t have time for this nonsense. I needed to get this monkey off my back.
Me: Fine, coffee tomorrow morning.
Jonathan: Perfect. Can you do 11? I have a breakfast meeting.
I squeezed the bridge of my nose for a moment and told myself this was the fastest way out.
Me: Sure.
I opened the top drawer of my desk and dropped my phone into it. I was done with that annoying device today. Well… for the next five minutes at least.
“All sorted?” Ziggy smirked, his hint of irritation already gone.
I squeezed my nose harder. “Something like that,” I said without opening my eyes. I’d rather not see the look of disappointment at my spineless behaviour when I admitted what I’d done.
“You’re seeing him, aren’t you?” Ziggy gloated.
“Coffee tomorrow.”
“Way to hold your ground there, Sparkles.”
“Shut your face, Starman. He said if I have coffee, that can be it. I’m doing it to get rid of him.”
“Mmhmm.”
“Oh, bite me.”
Stirring the pasta sauce, I heard the door to my flat click shut and smiled. We had hardly spoken for most of the afternoon. I was still sore about the whole coffee incident, but I could already tell that ours was not the kind of friendship that a tiny spat could dent. It might be quite new and a complete fluke that we even found each other, but he was a keeper, and I knew it.
“Sparkles, I’m home,” Ziggy called from the hallway, and I laughed at his silliness.
“You’re late,” I growled, playing along.
“Sorry, sweetie pie, hard day at the office. The boss is a dragon.” He headed straight for the cooker and peered over my shoulder, not wrapping me in his arms like a real husband might, but close enough to show he had staked his claim in my world. And I liked it.
“Sounds awful,” I teased, lifting the spoon up for him to taste.
He blew lightly on the rich sauce before tentatively tasting it. His eyes rolled back in his head as he licked his lips. “Oh my God, Bea,” he groaned.
“Good?”
Ziggy shook his head. “So good. You don’t even know.” His lips smacked softly as he savoured the taste and stepped back. “You’re going to ruin me. How can I go back to pot noodles now?”
I giggled. “You’re welcome to eat here any time. It’s nice to cook for someone other than me. I’ll make you my famous curry next.”
“Are you going to expect some kind of compensation?” He wigg
led his brows suggestively as he kicked off his beaten-up boots.
I scrunched up my nose. “Eww, no, you’re alright, thanks,” I shot back with a generous heap of theatrics, then shuddered.
Ziggy chuckled, opening the fridge and grabbing two of the beers he put there at lunch time. “How about you just text me a shopping list, and I’ll buy the ingredients, then?”
I grinned. “You have a deal.” I pointed at the cupboard behind him. “Do me a favour and grab a couple of bowls.”
Putting down his beer, he turned and lifted two pasta bowls out of the cabinet, handing them to me. Then without me asking, he went to the drawer and pulled out cutlery. I drained the pasta and served us each a steaming bowl of spaghetti and meatballs.
He took his gratefully, groaning again as he put his first forkful in his mouth; he instantly regretted it. “Ah! Hot!” he huffed out around his mouthful.
“That’s what happens when you eat it straight from the pot. You want to wait until you’re at least sitting down first. Jesus.” I shook my head and moved into the living room, collecting my beer as I passed. Ziggy followed me and settled into the sofa beside me, still chewing gingerly on his pasta.
“It’s just too good.” He swallowed and took a swig of his beer to cool his tongue. “You don’t want to go letting loverboy have a taste of this. You’ll never get rid of him.”
Oh God, I’d almost forgotten about him. “Now, why did you have to go and bring that up? I was just beginning to relax.”
“Hey, you agreed to go on a date with him, not me. I didn’t know we weren’t allowed to mention it.”
I nudged his foot with mine and pulled a face.
“I’m only thinking of you, Sparkles. If loverboy gets a taste of this, he’ll turn up the heat big time.”
“Well, ‘loverboy’ won’t be getting a taste of anything, okay? It’s just coffee, and I’m only going so I can make it clear that I’m not interested.”
Ziggy smiled knowingly and shoved a huge amount of pasta in his mouth to prevent some wise crack coming out. He was smart. We ate in silence for a while; Ziggy in heaven, and me just enjoying a dinner companion.
“You know…” Ziggy said quietly, reaching for his beer between bites. “If you want to date this guy, no one will think any less of you. It’s been long enough. It’s really okay.”
I stared at him. Somehow, if anyone else had said that I would have become angry, but I knew Ziggy was trying to help me find peace with this. “I know.” I smiled tightly. “I don’t want to date him but thank you.” I reached over and squeezed his knee in appreciation.
“Okay, as long as you know. No one expects you to be single for the rest of your life.” He took another sip from his bottle and then smirked. “I suppose you need me to help you pick out an outfit? Something that says, ‘I’m sex-fog proof, so don’t waste your time’?”
I threw my head back and laughed. “That’s exactly what I need! Now, enough about that disaster. I want to talk projects.”
Ziggy’s face lit up and before long, our empty bowls had been set aside, and he had a big sketch pad out. I was itching with excitement. This was everything I had wanted for so long. I felt like we were finally about to arrive.
Chapter Eight
“I think I’m going to throw up,” I grimaced as I zipped my coat.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Ziggy chuckled.
“I’m serious. I need coffee and sympathy.”
“I think the expression is ‘tea and sympathy.’”
“Tea wouldn’t cut it.” I hovered by his desk feeling like I should just run back upstairs and lock the door. “Why can’t you get me out of this? Some friend you are.”
Ziggy pushed back from his desk and rose to meet me, placing his hands on my shoulders and dipping his face so I met his eyes. “Pull yourself together, woman. It’s a quick cup of coffee to give the guy the brush off. Then you can come back here, drop his heart in the bin, wash the blood off your hands, and get on with your day.”
I groaned. “You’re awful.”
“Awful is my middle name.” He smirked as he turned me to face the door and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, so I couldn’t bolt. He escorted me out into the reception area and pressed the lift button.
“Where are you two going?” Mel called out from the desk. She sounded light in an effort not to sound too demanding, but I knew her too well, and she was failing miserably.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Ziggy told her, gripping my shoulder harder as I tensed. He wouldn’t tell her, would he? Oh God. “Bea is popping out, though. Can you hold her calls for an hour?”
“Uh, sure…” Mel sounded confused at my muteness and eyed us suspiciously.
The lift arrived and the doors slid open. Ziggy guided me inside and I turned to face him, a sick feeling creeping up inside me.
“Where are you going?” I heard Mel ask and I shot Ziggy a warning glare as the doors started to close between us.
His lips curled up slowly, and his eyebrows twitched in warning.
No!
I stepped towards the door, but I was too late.
“She has a date,” he exclaimed, his eyes still fixed on mine as the doors clicked closed.
That. Bastard.
My stomach fell faster than the lift as I descended to the ground floor. By the time I was thrust into the lobby of the building, I was in something of a daze.
Fuck. She was going to be insufferable, and him…I was going to kill him the first chance I got. Shaking my head in annoyance, I pushed out into the street, and there I came face to face with a cool, calm sex fog in a suit.
“Jonathan?” I swallowed, immediately thrown right back into my addled state in his presence.
“Good morning, beautiful.” He smiled, straightening from his position leaning against the lamppost. He took a step towards me and got close, closer than I expected and leaned in and kissed my cheek in greeting. I hadn’t been prepared for this and I sucked in a breath as a shiver of something close to pleasure washed over me. He chuckled and stepped back. Maybe I was giving off a cornered-animal vibe, but he didn’t share the reason for his amusement and I was too stunned to ask.
I tried to right myself, but that was easier said than done when he still lingered in my space with his fresh masculine scent and general confidence that disarmed me so much.
“Weren’t we meeting at Starbucks?” I frowned, looking at my wrist only to remember I never wore a watch, a fact that you’d think might have sunk in after so many years. Besides, knowing the precise time wouldn’t tell me if we were meeting in the right location, now would it?
Jesus Bea.
A small smile pulled at Jonathan’s lips as he too noticed the lack of watch on my wrist. I dropped it sheepishly, but he’d noticed and it had amused him.
I felt annoyed that I couldn’t seem to get it together and he noticed. It made me defensive. “Did you think I’d stand you up?” I accused, trying not to let my fluster show.
His smile widened, knowingly. “Not at all.”
I bristled. He sounded so cocky, like being stood up was something that simply didn’t happen to a man like him. He was probably right. It wasn’t cockiness if it was the truth. He rescued himself with his next words, however.
“I was hoping you’d want to come, but that’s not why I was waiting here. It was easier to have my driver drop me off in a side street than on the main road. That’s how I spotted you the day we met, remember? Being picked up here.”
“Right,” I said hesitantly.
He seemed to sense that reminding me of his stalking ways was not the best idea and quickly veered away from the subject. “When the driver happened to stop right here, I decided I should wait and escort you.” He winked.
Oh God. I nodded vaguely, once again assaulted by everything that was suave and sophisticated about him. He was seriously attractive, but even though we both knew it, he had a way of making me feel beautiful.
“Shall we?” He ge
stured to the pavement ahead of us, and I dumbly followed his direction, noticing that he refrained from offering his arm. He knew how far was too far when it came to this chivalry act, and that in itself was worrying. He knew how to play, and I felt like the current game of choice. “So, how have you been?” Jonathan offered into the stifling silence between us.
“Fine, thank you,” I struggled not to sound like a socially inept imbecile. “How about you?”
“I’ve been good, busy at work, but it pays the bills, right?”
I nodded in agreement and immediately faltered on a follow up; I realised was indeed a socially inept imbecile who should not be allowed to walk the streets unsupervised.
For a few more paces down the road, we walked in silence, and I feared this was going to be the most awkward situation I’d ever faced; but then, as easily as he seemed to exist in every other way, Jonathan sparked up the conversation.
“So, that’s your company?” He gestured behind us as we turned the corner onto Oxford Street.
“Yeah.” I smiled fondly despite myself. My work made me smile, what can I say?
“Nice.” He nodded, considering that fact as he held open the door to Starbucks and let me pass. His hand once again at my back, made me almost gasp. “Pretty interesting line of work.” He continued, oblivious to the shiver he had sent up my spine with his touch. “How did you get into that?”
My stomach tightened and the feelings I was noticing were extinguished like a fire hose had been turned on them. That was not a subject I wanted to discuss. Not with him.
I shrugged. “Just one of those things,” I said vaguely, refusing to give any of the reasons I am where I am. My defences were slamming shut when he managed to get a shoe in.
“I doubt it was just one of those things, Bea. You don’t get to dominate the game app charts the way you do by chance.”
We joined the queue at the counter, and I looked up at him, deciding to change tacts to avoid this topic. “Stalking again, were you?” I accused, light-heartedly.
The impish look on his face was sweet and funny. I couldn’t fight my amusement. He was busted.
For a second, he looked embarrassed, but then he shrugged. “You thought I’d be able to find out which company you worked at and not find anything out about the company itself? It really wasn’t difficult.”
Lucky Scars Page 6
