Page 21 of King of Hearts

“Give the man a break, babe, it’s not every day we have a Talons’ player in our home.” He sauntered towards her but she held up her hand to stop him and narrowed her eyes. I almost laughed at the indignant look on her face and was glad not to be on the receiving end of that as she admonished him.

“Firstly, he plays for the Hearts. Secondly, if I wanted your opinion I would have asked and thirdly, if you call me that again I will shove your headset down your throat.”

Pressing my lips together to prevent my laugh escaping I turned and headed towards the door so neither of them could see my smile.

“It’s been a pleasure, Paul.” I said over my shoulder, waiting for Arna to leave before following her out.

Hints of sweet butterscotch and citrus drifted over me as she moved past and I couldn’t stop my eyes from moving down her body to that gorgeous arse of hers. She wasn’t wearing her usual business attire tonight, instead donning a pair of light denim jeans which highlighted the gorgeous shape of those hips, a tight white t-shirt and black heels. Fuck. She was sexier every time I saw her and with her hair pulled back from her face so those piercing eyes were front and centre – she was a sight. She did not fit in with this apartment at all and given Paul was clearly not her boyfriend as he implied, I had to wonder why she was living here.

So many unanswered questions I was desperate for her to answer. But I had to remember this woman was none of my business and I had no right to know anything about her life. This was a business meeting, and that had to be at the forefront of my thoughts – not how fine she looked in those skintight jeans or the things I could do to someone as unique and beautiful as her – none of which were remotely work related.

Chapter Thirteen

Arna

He came to my flat. Andy Gloss stepped foot into the septic tank where I currently lived and was now probably wondering why he ever agreed to work with someone as pathetic as I was. Someone who, at twenty-seven years of age, did not appear to have their life together.

I inwardly cringed. The whole thing would have been humorous if I wasn’t so bloody embarrassed.

After we stepped out onto the street, I felt myself relax a little as the night air soothed my flaming neck and cheeks. I needed to move out of this place before I committed amicicide. Although, it was a big stretch calling Paul my friend. Some days I could punch him straight in the face and feel absolutely no guilt and today was one of those days.

Babe.

Gag. I would NEVER be his babe.

I mean, I couldn’t ignore how he always made sure there was sourdough and Vegemite in the cupboards as well as copious packets of popcorn because he knew they were my favourites. But he needed to learn to read a room and quit telling people I was his girlfriend.

“Sergio, this is Arnabelle Frost.” Andy’s low timbre sliced through my simmering irritation as he gestured towards the man who stood by the car parked at the kerb.

“Good evening, Ms. Frost.” Sergio bowed slightly in my direction and waited for me to approach.

“Hi, I’m Arna. It’s lovely to meet you, Sergio.” Extending my hand, I noted the look of shock lining his features and quickly glanced back to Andy, who also held a semblance of surprise. Sergio shook my hand briefly, before taking a step backwards to let us enter the car.

What the hell was that all about, I wondered, as Andy turned his body to face mine.

He looked good. Capital gee Good. He wasn’t wearing a hat tonight meaning I could really see his face and what a sight it was. His gaze resembled a rich mahogany reminiscent of freshly brewed coffee and he had soft laugh lines creasing the edges, a sign that despite his spicy exterior, therewasa personality buried in there somewhere. His brown hair, slightly longer in the centre, was cut short around the sides and lightly faded into the subtle stubble which lined his jaw.

He wore a short-sleeved, pale blue collared shirt which contrasted deliciously with his sun-kissed skin and his beige chinos held tight against his clearly strong legs. Just my luck. The first man I was physically attracted to in all the dates I had been on, was of course a work associate.

“Thank you for picking me up. I’m so sorry about Paul.” I said, hoping the lack of lighting in the car would hide the flush which crept back to my cheeks. The captain of the Hearts saw the squalor I called home, and then introduced me to his driver. The contrast was laughable really. For the sake of my dignity, I would need to ensure any potential future meetings were as far away from my place as possible.

“Interesting guy,” he said, a smirk on his face. “What’s the story there?”

“Aren’t I supposed to be asking you the questions?” I said, deflecting flirtatiously to hide the quiet discomfort which lingered from whatever judgement he probably made about my living conditions.

“Touché.” He laughed, and again I bathed in the feeling of making him happy. When he fidgeted a little, readjusting in his seat, I followed the movement, watching the way his hands moved to rest against his thighs. Flushing, I had to look away as I wondered what it would be like to straddle him.

Seriously, what was wrong with me?

I was giving myself a hot flush with the inappropriate thoughts and suddenly wishing I was a cowgirl was the mildest of things coursing through me. Consequently, the sooner we got out of the back seat of this car, the better.

“Believe it or not, Paul is actually quite a nice guy. Just lacks an understanding of women.”

“Most of us do.” Andy retorted and I laughed, nodding in agreement and thinking back to when I had thought the very same thing.

“He’s been my roommate for a few years now and while he’s innocuous, I’m on the way out. Just need to save a little more. Sydney is expensive, you know?” I said, shrugging. “Anyway, you don’t care about my rental history. Sorry.” I said, waving my hand through the air before continuing despite my apology.

“I talk A LOT. This is probably why I spent not even one full semester at university studying the art of interviewing because I talk too much. Again, you do not care. Oh my god, I need a muzzle.” I gently slapped my forehead, willing myself to shut the hell up.

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