Page 20 of Heart Match

Then I send a photo of the pieces lying on my desk.

Naomi: I love you.

Lexi: Can’t wait! I’m hoping these will help me spice things up in bed!

I finish my day at the office replying to as many emails as I manage before my stomach starts complaining that it’s dinner time. I actually could have done this part at home, but I was kind of avoiding going home early.

#

Back in my building I’m checking my phone as I’m waiting for the lift holding the bag with the lingerie. Then I hear his voice. I pretend not to, but my heart is a traitor. I look up and see him coming through the front door talking to three other guys, one a lot older than he is—could be his father. One just a bit older, and the third, a younger version of him, only with shorter hair and tattooed arms and neck impossible to miss.

Luc’s carrying a huge black and white HEAD’s bag on his back—possibly the same one from the night we met—and so is the younger guy. The older man has a rolling suitcase. The other has a bag slung over his shoulder. All four of them are wearing sports clothes.

As soon as he sees me, Luc smiles. I smile back, there is no way you’d see that smile and not smile back. You can fight as much as you want. You will fail.

‘Hey, good to see you,’ he says, and by the look on his face he really means it.

‘Hey,’ I say.

He gives me a kiss on the cheek. While we have our moment—if you can call it that—the others are talking among themselves in French. I don’t understand much. The lift arrives and we all step in. He stands beside me, while the others stand opposite to us. They are still discussing something that seems serious and interesting. I’m basically a ghost to them. Not for Luc, he can’t keep his eyes off mine, only briefly to check out my legs, all the parts my mini dress doesn’t cover.

‘Were you playing tennis?’ I ask this because of his bag, I know the brand. As soon as I ask this I get the full attention of the others too. For a moment I think I might have said something wrong.

Luc half-smiles and looks to the guys then back at me and says, ‘Yes, I was. Do you like tennis?’

‘Not really. To be honest I don’t even know how you score on a tennis match.’

All men laugh and the only feasible explanation for that is the fact that I am clueless about the sport they clearly enjoy.

They didn’t laugh in a way that made me feel stupid, but in a way that made me feel like I told them the best joke of the day. I don’t mind. I smile back, innocently.

Once the lift reaches my floor, they say goodbye. Luc places his hand on the small of my back, an unexpected touch that sends an electrifying thrill throughout my body, and touches his cheek to mine as he says in my ear, ‘See you around.’

This time he doesn’t get off with me and take the stairs. He stays with the others until his final stop.

Today is one of those incredibly hot days of London’s summer. No open window could make up for this crazy heat. I decide to take another shower, risking missing Amazon’s delivery guy who might arrive at any minute; I’m waiting for some supplies to arrive. As soon as I step out of the shower I hear the doorbell ringing. Just in time.

I wrap myself in a towel and head for the door. No time to wrap one around my wet hair. It’s not the first time a delivery guy will see me in a towel. I hate it when it happens, but it’s better than missing my package or having it delivered to Mrs. Thompson.

I open the door and to my surprise is not the delivery guy, it’s Luc.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you. I can come back another time,’ he says, trying to avert his eyes from my collarbone, but failing miserably. He’s flushing.

‘No, no, it’s okay …’ I say even though there’s nothing okay about this. Though he has already seen me in my underwear, it doesn’t make it any less weird that he’s now seeing me in my towel. Ok, last time I wasn’t sober. Now I am, and I’m fully self-conscious of my appearance.

‘Come in, I’ll be ready in a minute.’

I let him in anyways, because even though I want to stay away, I can’t.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Who’s there?’ I hear Mrs. Thompson.

‘It’s me, Mrs. Thompson, Olivia,’ I shout, to Luc’s amusement. ‘Yeah, I’m sure. If the bell rings you can answer the door, it’s Amazon. But do it fast because, otherwise, Mrs. Thompson will get it first. Then I’ll have to get the package from her and she’ll want to talk for an hour and invite me in for tea,’ I say with a serious face.

He doesn’t look serious to me, he’s suppressing a smile, his eyes betray him.

First thing I do when I close my bedroom door behind me is head to my closet and pick my lingerie. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not because I’m planning on showing it to him, but rather to give me some shield against this crazy attraction I feel for him. It sounds crazy, I know, but lingerie makes me feel safer somehow.

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