by Laura Burton
“It’s fine. I’ll make a call... We’ll sort this out,” Blaze tries to reassure me, but my voice rises in pitch as my panic increases. “Call who? Me? That’s who you’re paying to shop! And I can’t even do that right.”
Blaze isn’t listening anymore, and good thing too because my mouth runs away with me as I start to vent to a couple of pigeons in the street, all my hopes and dreams falling like ash around me. Blaze turns away from me and his voice floats over my head like a murmur as he talks on the phone. I chew my nails, watching the cars race by and wondering how I can be such a hopeless mess.
Like, what exactly is it in my DNA that makes me so prone to disaster?
Why is it that I can’t keep a job? I mean, how is it possible to so expertly ruin everything?
Once again, I’m going to get fired.
I can just picture Harper now, looking down her perfectly straight nose at me with disappointment. Then Josie, my longest and best friend, will tell me I’ve ruined her reputation and I owe her so much money, that whatever Blaze gives me will be a drop in the ocean compared to the debt I’ll be in.
And that’s if Blaze even gives me anything.
He’s just paid for an entire makeover at some fancy boutique. I’ll probably end up owing him money too.
“Done.”
I snap out of my head and look at a very proud looking Blaze. “What do you mean?”
“Like I said, I made a call. The shoes have been ordered and they’re being delivered straight to Harper’s room as we speak.”
Stunned, I stare at Blaze like he’s a genie here to grant all my wishes. “How did you…?”
He lifts a palm to stop my revered whisper. “Don’t worry, I told them to say it was all ordered in your name. As far as Harper is concerned, you did your job.”
“Why would you do that?” I ask, trying and failing to come up with a reason for this level of generosity.
Blaze drags a heavy hand over his stubble and appears to think about it. “Harper is a tricky person. You don’t want to get on her bad side. I feel like fate put me in the position to help, so I helped.”
“Fate, huh?” I hum, chewing on the thought. “What were you doing across the street from me, anyway?” I ask, still unable to make sense of anything. Blaze’s smile turns mischievous, like he’s a boy who’s just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“I was looking for you.”
I don’t think the confession should make me feel so good. But something inside of me does a happy dance anyway.
“You were looking for me,” I repeat, my voice hollow.
Blaze Hopkins was looking for me. Part of me wants to climb up Tower Bridge and scream it to the world. I bite my tongue to stop a grin. “Why?”
“Because walking around London on your own is no fun. I thought-”
“You thought I was a loser for not hanging out with the stylists,” I finish for him, but the twist of repulsion on his face tells me I’m wrong.
“No. I’m glad you’re giving them a wide berth. They’re not interested in making friends and are far more likely to stab you in the back.”
I hum. “Duly noted.”
A sudden chill gusts through the street and my body begins to shiver. Quick as a flash, Blaze removes his jacket and places it on my shoulders, wrapping me up in a blanket of his body heat and comforting scent. “I wanted to find you because, believe it or not, I think you’re a fun person to be around. And I didn’t want to check out the sights on my own.”
“You don’t want to hang out with your co-stars?” I ask, surprised.
I figured there was some kind of hierarchy. People like Blaze hang out with, well… people like Blaze. Actors. Directors. Influencers. Models. Pretty people and pretty rich people.
Not people like me.
I don’t even think I’m on the same level with the stylists. Their fashion and elegance are far more superior to mine.
I’m even more surprised at his responding frown. “No,” he says.
“What? You’re not all best friends like you make out on those talk shows?” I jibe, nudging him slightly with my elbow. He chuckles.
“Eddie is okay. But Harper…”
I sense a change in his tone at her name, like he’s talking about eating squid.
“I like her,” I say quickly, before he can destroy my opinion of the woman. She’s the type of person who seems to have it all. The perfect image, the sweetest smile, an amazing talent for acting… What's not to love about Harper Jewel?
She’s literally called the Jewel of the Screen.
She’s adored by millions.
I refuse to believe anyone can dislike her, much less Blaze Hopkins, who’s her love interest in Demolition Beast.
Blaze’s eyes turn to slits as he studies me, then his face breaks into a warm smile.
“You see the good in people. I respect that,” he says, and to my relief he doesn’t say any more.
I’m not ready to have any illusions shattered. Because if someone like Harper isn’t truly adored by all, then what hope have I got to be liked by other people?
“So, what do you say to a night of adventure?” Blaze asks, clapping his hands. There’s an excited flutter in my midriff at the question, and Chessy’s voice in my head starts asking questions.
Is this going to be a date?
Fortunately, the sensible part of my brain pipes up. I can’t date Blaze. I can’t even think about dating him.
As though he’s reading my mind, Blaze nods. “A strictly professional adventure, I promise,” he adds.
“Well, so long as it’s professional… What did you have in mind?”
There’s a chill in the evening air that encircles me as I walk with Blaze across London. But his jacket keeps me cocooned and I wrap it around me, intending to never give it back.
The wind ripples through Blaze’s hair and he swings his arms as we walk. Every few minutes, I glance at him, and now and again our eyes meet before we avert our gaze.
It seems that neither of us has any idea of what topic would keep things professional.
Blaze doesn’t want to talk about clothes or shopping, thank heavens. And I’ve run out of questions to ask about his job.
That only leaves small talk, which I am awful at.
If I had my phone in my pocket, I’d thumb a quick SOS to Chessy.
She’s the sister who can speak fluent small talk.
In fact, she’s so good at it, Chessy can take a stranger in the morning and turn them into an old friend by lunchtime.
Of course, Chessy’s advice would definitely take us over from the professional line.
She’d never understand my intentions. She believes in taking risks, especially when it comes to men. That girl has had her heart broken more times than I can count, and I don’t know how she keeps going back for more. But I’m not my sister.
If my heart gets so much as a crack, I’ll clam up and swear off men for a decade.
Which will be hard to do if things go south while we’re on this press tour.
I glance at Blaze again, and when he turns to look at me, our eyes linger on each other a moment longer. “So, you never told me where we’re going,” I say. I’ve given up on filling the silence and I’m on the brink of asking, ‘Are we there yet???’
“We’re not far. You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” Blaze says, his expression mild.
My brows shoot upward before I can think of a reply, prompting a laugh from Blaze. “Don’t worry. We’re not bungee jumping. Here we are!”
We round a corner and the sparkling city lights almost blind me as I look up to see what Blaze is pointing at. “Where?”
“We’re going to have dinner at the Sky Bar,” Blaze announces, sounding smug. My stomach grumbles, reminding me that all I’ve eaten today is the breakfast Olly brought me this morning.
“Oh good. I could eat a horse.”
As we enter the glass building, I begrudgingly hand over Blaze’s jacket, b
ut he pushes it back to me. “You might want to keep that.”
He gives me a dashing smile, and I get visions of a Jock giving his cheerleader girlfriend his jacket. Am I the cheerleader?
Is he branding me so all the other men at the restaurant know I’m taken? It’s an amusing thought. A little flattering, even.
This is not tip-toeing across the line; it’s flying right past it.
“You said we’d keep things professional!” I say, failing to hide the scandal in the tone of my voice. Blaze snorts. “I am. We’re eating outside, that’s all.”
Before I can ask any more questions, Blaze leads us through a reception area and signs us in, then we’re led outside by an attendant. When we walk out, I see a huge table fixed to a mechanical arm several stories tall. “What the heck is this?” I ask.
Blaze and I take a seat at the empty table.
To make things even more weird, I notice a harness on my chair. Blaze fixes his own like this is all normal, but I’ve never had to put on a harness to eat dinner.
“Here, do you need me to help?” Blaze doesn’t wait for me to reply. He just reaches over and helps me fasten my harness. His fingers brush my arms briefly and everything in me tingles.
The waiter takes our order. Blaze picks something for me because I’m still processing the situation. This is too surreal.
Blaze orders two medium rare steak dinners and a bottle of the most expensive ‘bubbly’ they have.
“What’s with the harness?” I ask Blaze now we’re alone again. He smirks at me.
“Well, you know these Europeans. They’re so health and safety conscious.”
I give him a wry look, sensing there’s something he isn’t telling me.
Now I remember his question.
“Blaze, you asked me if I’m afraid of heights…”
On cue, the waiter returns with our food. He fills two glasses while Blaze chuckles to himself. I can’t figure out what’s so funny.
I look up at the glass roof over the table and squint. “Is that a crane above us?”
“And we’re going up…” someone announces. I hitch a breath and slam my hands on either side of my steaming dinner as we gently rise from the ground.
“Blaze…” I say in a warning tone.
Blaze chuckles.
“This is high. Blaze… we’re really high.”
“We’re only a hundred feet up, and just look at that view!”
I can’t look at the view, I’m too busy keeping my eyes shut and praying I don’t slip out of my seat to my death.
“Looks like you are afraid of heights,” Blaze says with a rumbling hum. The familiar sound is almost comforting.
“What is this place?” I whisper with my eyes still screwed shut.
“Okay, I lied about the sky bar. It’s actually called London in the Sky. We get to eat dinner with a fantastic view.”
“While hoisted by a crane?” I say, struggling to understand why anyone would like this experience.
Blaze moans, and I can’t tell if it’s driven by pain or total ecstasy. “Best steak on the continent,” he says.
I guess it’s the latter.
“Come on, Leila. Open your eyes and try the food.”
“I’m no longer hungry,” I say, clutching the edge of the table. “My stomach is still on the ground.”
The shock of sudden, booming laughter makes me open my eyes. It’s the most animated sound I’ve ever heard Blaze make. He sounds like the giant from Jack and the Beanstalk.
I’m about to make another remark when something shiny in my peripheral vision catches my attention. I gasp.
I can see the entire night-time landscape of London city.
The London Eye is a giant circle of sparkles standing over the Thames, and little ferry boats are bobbing lazily near the dock.
The surface of the Thames is glittering madly with the reflection of what looks like a million lights, and above everything, the sky is a brilliant sheet of midnight blue dotted with stars.
“Wow.” All of my fears forgotten, I relax and just take in the incredible view.
“This is insanely cool.”
“Right? Here, have a drink.”
Blaze hands me my glass and I take it.
Now that I’m no longer panicking, I’m entirely overwhelmed by a new sensation - thrill.
I mean, Lucy will freak out when I tell her I ate a steak dinner while dangling from a giant crane over London, but this’ll be an amazing story to tell people when I get home.
“What should we toast to?” I ask.
Blaze picks up his own glass and hums so deeply, I feel it vibrate in my midriff.
“To new adventures?”
I grin at him, bite my lip, and nod. “I like that. To new adventures.”
We chink our glasses, and drink without taking our eyes off each other.
Chapter 12
Blaze
My plan is working perfectly.
Leila wants to keep things professional, so I’m keeping things professional.
The London in the Sky experience was a major hit. The wine was good, the food was mouth-watering, and Leila really started to let her hair down.
I have to admit, there’s something ego-boosting about all this - rescuing a damsel in distress, dressing her up in the finest clothes, and treating her to an unforgettable dinner experience.
The best part is, I think there’s a chink in her resolve. Her words tell me she wants things strictly professional, but her body language is a completely different story.
I could tell she wanted to kiss me.
How? Her gaze kept hovering over my mouth. I think I could have very easily kissed her.
She looked so beautiful. Her eyes were shining and her soft hair was drifting about her face in the breeze; I’ve never wanted to make a move so strongly.
But I held back.
I need to keep her wanting, without giving away the fact that I’d totally ravish her on the table, even at one hundred feet in the air, if given the chance.
No. As thrilling as the thought is, I played things cool. In fact, I was the perfect gentleman.
Now she looks at me like I’m a juicy forbidden fruit.
Soon, I’ll be completely irresistible.
It’s only a matter of time before she lowers her defenses and gives in.
Over the next few days, we settle into a routine, making the most of our evenings in London.
I get up early each morning, go to all of the talk shows and interviews planned for the day, then find Leila.
She’s always starving and ready for another adventure.
We ate sushi on a canal boat, floated down the Thames and listened to relaxing music.
We walked through the city, our fingers brushing now and then.
I discovered - very happily, might I add - that Leila is just as bad at small talk as I am.
When we exhausted the topic of the city lights and unpredictable English weather, we stumbled into more personal topics.
Leila told me stories about her previous jobs––and I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with such an extensive list of previous employment––and her top five Netflix shows.
I cracked a few jokes, and told her about my life growing up.
We discovered we both played banker while playing Monopoly, and we both cheated.
Talking to Leila is as easy as breathing now, and I’ve found myself oversharing more than a few times.
I never planned to tell her about Albie, my one-eyed dog that died last year.
And I definitely didn’t mean to tell her I’ve seen Titanic more times than I can count - and that I cry, every time.
The truth is Leila is just so easy to talk to. There’s a gentleness about her gaze that makes me want to confess my deepest secrets. And the more time I spend with her, the more curious I am about her.
On our final night in London, I took her to Buckingham Palace, and we walked around Trafalgar Square.
A street pe
rformer flirted with Leila, but to my delight, she shrugged him off. Or was merely oblivious to his advances.
I’ve lost count of the times we’ve almost kissed.
Holding back is testing my self-constraint to the max.
The thought of wrapping her up in my arms and smothering her face and neck with kisses is so intense, it takes my breath away. And it’s not just a physical desire; this need runs deeper.
I know she feels it too.
Every time we say goodbye, we linger by the door a little longer.
I find myself lying in bed at night, wondering if she’s okay and what I can do next to impress her. I wish I knew what she was thinking. Now, we’re on a flight to Paris, ready to embark on another adventure. Leila turned me down when I asked her to sit in the cabin with me. That was disappointing. She mumbled something about spending time with the stylists instead.
So I’m stuck with Martin, who’s already snoozing, and Harper who pretends I don’t exist. All I can do is think about Leila, and wonder how I’m going to keep playing it cool in the most romantic city in the world.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Harry asks, eyeing me with concern. “You look pensive. That worries me. What are you so contemplative about?”
I glance around the cabin to confirm no one else is going to overhear my response. Harper has her headphones in, and Eddie is watching a movie. I turn back to Harry.
When I’m done telling him about Leila, Harry is quiet for a few moments. “So you’re trying to get her to fall for you with reverse psychology? You do know that’s a terrible idea, right?”
I stretch my back and crack my knuckles. “She’s beginning to crack; I can sense it.”
Harry groans and shakes his head. “No, no, no. That’s not how you treat women.”
I frown, turning defensive. “I’ll have you know I’ve been a total gentleman.”
“You’re trying to manipulate her like this is all some game to you. That’s no way to treat a lady.”
I hold Harry’s disapproving stare as I think about it. “Well, what do you suggest that I do?”
Harry rolls his eyes. “Quit playing games and tell her how you feel.”
“It might scare her off, you know how intense I can be,” I say, chewing my lip. The last thing I want is to freak the woman out. I enjoy spending time with her way too much. If she cools off and doesn’t want to hang out, I’ll be stir crazy for the rest of this press tour.
