Page 24 of Here Comes Trouble
She smoothed a hand over her perfectly straight hair, which distracted him for a second as he wondered what it would feel like to run his own hands through it. It would be soft and silky as it slid through his fingers, he was sure of it.
‘Are you worried about how your next exhibition’s going to be received?’ she asked, pulling him rudely out of his hair-fondling fantasy.
He shifted in his chair, going for nonchalance while he considered her question carefully, giving himself a few moments to formulate an evasive, but meaty answer. Apparently, she was going to keep hammering at this line of interrogation so he should probably give her something to work with so she’d finally drop it.
‘In my profession I’m walking on a knife-edge the whole time. There are hundreds of new, really talented artists appearing each year, desperate to step into the limelight. I feel like I have to produce something pretty damn special every time I exhibit, or I’ll sink into obscurity. That’s a lot of pressure right there.’
‘What do your parents think about your success?’ she asked, looking down as she realigned the position of her cutlery on the table in front of her.
Clearing his throat, he dragged up the indifferent expression he’d perfected over the years. ‘They’re both dead.’
She looked up sharply. ‘Oh, Xander, I’m so sorry. So you’re on your own?’
‘Yup. It’s just me and my massive ego now.’
Her cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink. ‘Look, I’m sorry I said that. In my defence, I called it as I saw it at the time. Before I got to know you better.’
He smiled. ‘You called it right. I was being a tool.’
She pushed her knife too far back on the table and it fell onto the floor. After reaching down to rescue it, she swiped her hair away from her flushed face before giving him an embarrassed grimace and shuffling her chair closer to the table.
Their food arrived and they both tucked in, neither of them saying a word for a good couple of minutes. His lasagne was delicious and it didn’t take him long to make inroads into it.
Realising he was being rude concentrating on his food and not making conversation, he nodded at the half-eaten salad on her plate. ‘Good?’
‘Great,’ she said, popping a piece of tomato into her mouth.
‘So, Jess, tell me more about you. Have you ever been married?’ She must have swallowed her tomato the wrong way because she coughed and spluttered on it, her eyes watering as she fought to get her breath back.
Granted, it was more personal and direct than anything he’d previously asked and rather out of the blue, but he really wanted to know more about her.
‘No,’ she said finally, shaking her head and looking down at the table.
He was surprised by the relief he felt. ‘Partner?’
‘Not for a couple of years now.’
‘Oh? Why did you split up – if you don’t mind me asking?’ He stood the ends of his cutlery on the table and gave her his full attention, intrigued as to how someone as attractive as Jess could have stayed single for so long.
She put her own cutlery onto her half-full plate before answering him. ‘He was a nice enough guy, but he didn’t make my heart sing.’
‘You mean he didn’t do it for you in the sack?’
Her attempt at a casual shrug was the worst bit of acting he’d ever seen.
‘We didn’t really click,’ she muttered, not looking him in the eye. He wondered what she wasn’t telling him. Had the guy abused her in some way? Just the thought of it made him suddenly, inexplicably angry. Under that tough, shielded exterior, there was undoubtedly some deeply ingrained insecurity still lurking. He’d seen flashes of it already and imagined he’d see more and more, the longer she stuck around.
‘Anyway, my turn. How come you’re not settled down with a partner?’ she asked, clearly desperate to change the subject and shift the attention back onto him.
‘Serious relationships aren’t my thing. I like variety. And I like sex. Lots and lots of sex,’ he teased, wanting to get back to the light, flirtatious atmosphere they’d had earlier.
He wasn’t sure what Jess was thinking now. Her huge, dark eyes seemed to have taken on a far-away look and her mouth was drawn back in a faintly twisted grimace as though her smile had gone wrong somewhere along the way.
He’d made her uncomfortable with his honesty, which wasn’t what he’d intended.
And he really shouldn’t be talking to her like this, not when he’d promised himself he was taking a break from what the press liked to refer to as his ‘philandering ways’, but it was almost impossible when she looked the way she did, sitting there all buttoned-up and tempting in front of him. He wanted to peel back her layers and peek at what was underneath. Hell, who was he kidding, he wanted to tear her clothes off right there in the restaurant and feast on her like a starving man.
She fiddled with the napkin on her lap, her eyes downcast again.
