Page 58 of Fundamentals in Flirting

I jumped when the door buzzer rang and, taking a deep, fortifying breath, I opened the door… To James Freaking Bond.

My mouth fell open, in a manner that was not at all ladylike. Teddy was in a tuxedo and bow tie, his hair tidy and styled, the gently curling lengths tamed and flattened; his beard trimmed and neat, and he was smelling completely and utterly delicious. He looked like an A-list movie star.

Damn him.

When I dragged my gaze back to his face (desperately trying to distract myself from my musings about his other impressive attributes that filled out his suit), an expression I couldn’t quite place was flitting over his features. He let out a long breath, sounding almost like he was blowing a raspberry, then ran his hand through his hair, dishevelling it in a delightful, roguish way.

“You look amazing, Hannah,” he said softly. “Stunningly, unequivocally beautiful.”

I flushed and let my hair fall over my face.

“It’s just the dress, and make-up – Betsy helped me and she’s a wonder at it.” I paused and then huffed a sad little laugh. “Mutton dressed as lamb, right?”

Teddy frowned, the crease between his eyebrows deep and severe. “No, don’t do that. Don’t put yourself down.”

His tone startled me. The rough timbre of his voice was unexpected, shaking through me with its sincerity and gravity.

“You’re beautiful – why don’t you believe it?” he said.

Taking a step towards me, he went to reach for my hand, before thinking better of it and running his fingers through his hair again.

“We should go,” I said, deflecting the unease that we were both obviously now feeling, that frisson of tension that seemed to erupt when the jokes subsided, an undercurrent that perhaps there was something else going on, something deeper or more serious between us than mere flirting. But I pushed those thoughts away, still unable to thank him for the compliment, unable to take it at face value or see it as anything more than a throwaway comment that he didn’t really mean.

“Right.”

Teddy stepped back again, holding the door with one hand and I squeezed past him and down the steps, letting him pull it closed behind us.

Outside in the surgery car park, in the space next to my estate car, was a very slinky red Jaguar whose indicators flashed as Teddy pressed the key fob.

“That’s a very silly car,” I said, unable to help a derisive snort from escaping.

“Funny – Clara said exactly the same thing the first time too, apparently,” Teddy muttered, opening the passenger door for me. Then, in response to the quizzical eyebrow tilt I levelled at him, he continued, “This is Henry’s car. I thought I’d take you to the party in style rather than in my battered old Land Rover.”

In the process of contorting my body into the car, the split in my dress opened up to mid-thigh, flashing more leg than I was strictly comfortable showing. Catching Teddy’s rakish grin, I tutted and wagged a finger.

“Oi! You’re meant to be being a gentleman!”

“Sorry, but that was an unexpected and delightful view from this perspective.” He laughed and closed the door jogging around the front of the car and sliding into the driver’s side.

“I think I’d prefer the Land Rover,” I said, scowling and folding my arms over my chest as he buckled his seatbelt.

“Whereas I’m liking this car rather a lot now.”

The smirk was unmistakeable, a twinkling mischievousness that turned my thought processes to slush so that they slopped around in my head, and made me entirely forget my peevishness. Which was pretty bloody annoying, actually.

* * *

We pulled in to the grand circular drive of the Fraser family home just as the sun was starting to get low in the sky. Glittering fairy lights adorned the paths around the garden and the golden house was lit up with the last throws of sunlight, marred only by long shadows cast by the tall trees in the grounds. Beautifully dressed people were gathering in groups, chatting casually. One woman in a stunning red dress tossed her hair coquettishly, touching the arm of an older man who was transfixed. The sound of laughter and music drifted into the car, the noises of a party, and all the connotations that brought with it. And I froze.

“I can’t do this, Teddy,” I whispered from my seat, the icy claws of apprehension holding me prisoner. The desire to hide and never be seen was overwhelmingly present in my brain.

Turning to face me, Teddy reached over and laid his warm hand over my militantly clenched fist, gently rubbing his thumb over my knuckles.

“Yes, you can.”

“I really can’t.”

Teddy leant in closely, moving his hand to gently cup my face. His gaze darted to my lips for the briefest of moments, before meeting my wide-eyed, startled stare.

---