Mr Right Across the Street

by Kathryn Freeman

  Chapter Nineteen

  Luke closed the door behind Mateo, who was the last to leave, and the bar instantly became quiet. Just her and the man she was becoming increasingly aware of.

  Mia had always known Luke was good looking yet tonight, as she’d watched him charm his way through the evening, her appreciation of his looks had become even more acute. It wasn’t just his face. He had a body that featured in most women’s fantasies, or it would if they’d been lucky enough to see it. She had, but only the top half through her window, from a distance.

  Tanya had seen it all, and Vicky, whoever she was. A lot of women had seen him naked.

  ‘Hey, are you okay?’ Luke slipped his hands into his pockets, his expression concerned. ‘You don’t look too happy to be locked in with me.’

  Crap, she needed to stop thinking about him with other women. Or him naked. ‘Sorry, I was remembering what Bill said earlier, about you charming people into doing things.’ She glanced around her at the empty bar. ‘This is my first lock-in.’

  ‘Then we’d better make it a good one.’ He strode round the bar and picked up a silver cocktail shaker, his movements easy; a man totally in tune with his body. ‘So, the big question is, do you trust me?’

  ‘Well I’m locked in here with you, so I guess I must.’

  He grinned, a flash of straight white teeth, and her heart gave a little dance. ‘Enough for me to make you a cocktail?’

  ‘Of course. I enjoyed the Electric Smurf and the Manchester Bee.’

  ‘Ah, but they weren’t made by me.’ He flicked the cocktail shaker upside down and caught it casually, eyes appraising her. ‘Any special requests?’

  ‘You managed to convince those women to let you choose one. I’m sure you can convince me to do the same.’

  Another smile, though this one was more cautious. ‘You know that’s just the job, don’t you? That I only see them as customers.’

  ‘Sure.’ She glanced down, flicking a non-existent fluff ball from her leggings. ‘I was one once.’

  ‘You were never just a customer, Mia.’ At his quietly spoken words, her eyes jumped to his. ‘Right from the outset, you intrigued me. I felt, I don’t know, some sort of magnetic pull towards you. I mean, you shot me down, but I still wanted to see you. Can’t say that’s ever happened before.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Must be that blue-green hair. I reckon you’re some sort of witch.’

  ‘Ha, first I’m a Leprechaun, then a Smurf, now I’m a witch. Make up your mind.’

  He turned towards the line of spirits hanging behind the bar and squirted a measure of vodka into the shaker. ‘I’ll let you know if I find a broom and a pointy hat.’

  ‘Fair enough. So what are you making me?’

  ‘Star Wars is still your favourite film?’

  She gave him a quizzical look. ‘Err, I’m not sure that answered my question, but yes.’

  ‘Okay, let me just check in the kitchen.’ She watched as he disappeared into the room behind, his bum looking just exactly right in his black jeans.

  Friends don’t ogle each other’s bums.

  She groaned, aware she was failing so badly at this friends-only rule she’d instigated, it seemed futile to carry on with it.

  A few seconds later he emerged, a wide grin on his face as he shook the cocktail shaker. ‘Okay, so it’s not exactly as per the recipe, but behold…’ He poured the mixture into two waiting glasses. ‘The Giggling Yoda.’

  ‘The, what? Seriously?’ God, he cracked her up with his daft cocktails. Laughing, she took a sip. ‘Are you making all these drinks up?’

  He gave her a mock affronted look. ‘Of course not. They’re all genuine cocktails.’ He took a swig of his own and grimaced. ‘Though I’m not sure the apples work as well as the pear would have.’

  ‘I’m sure Yoda won’t mind. Being a Jedi Master and all that, he’s probably got more important things to worry about.’

  They shared a smile, and Mia found she couldn’t drag her eyes from his. The longer they stared at each other, the more her skin began to prickle, her belly swooped and heat pooled between her legs.

  Luke cleared his throat and carefully placed his glass onto the counter. ‘I’ve got to be honest, this doesn’t feel like friends, Mia. It feels more. Much more.’

  ‘I know.’ She avoided his eyes, the atmosphere feeling suddenly charged and heavy, like before a thunderstorm. ‘But I like having you as my friend.’ She caught at the condensation on the glass with her finger. ‘I’m scared if we change that, we’ll muck our friendship up.’

  ‘Why would we?’

  ‘The nerd and the cool kid, really?’

  ‘It seems to be working so far.’

  She shrugged, trying to feel casual when inside everything felt tight. ‘I told you, my track record with men is terrible.’

  ‘They were the wrong men.’

  She snorted. ‘They definitely were, but they didn’t start out that way.’ Taking a swallow of her drink, she raised her eyes to his. ‘In the beginning, they seemed like the right men.’ It made Luke even more of a non-starter, because he wasn’t even right for her now. At least not on paper. When she was with him, though? When he held her hand, made her laugh, danced with her … then he felt perfect.

  He exhaled sharply, jamming a hand through his hair. ‘I can’t lie to you, Mia. It’s hard to be just your friend when every time I see you, I want to kiss you.’

  God, she didn’t think her heart could take much more of this, it was beating so fast. ‘I know that, too.’

  ‘You do?’

  The look he gave her was full of longing, yet it was the doubt mixed in with it that made her chest squeeze. As if he had no clue of the effect he had on her. The idea was so crazy, it made her smile. ‘You seriously think I don’t want to kiss you?’

  A slow smile spread across his face. ‘Well, I was wondering if I’d lost my touch.’

  The reminder that he was used to women wanting to kiss him was a welcome blast of cold air to the heat raging inside her. ‘No need to fear, your reputation as a sex god is safe.’

  As if she’d slapped him, he took a step back, a flash of hurt in his expression. ‘I guess I deserved that.’

  ‘No, you didn’t.’ God, she was a bitch. Who was she to judge him? A hugely attractive guy, working in an environment that brought him into contact with lots of women out for a good time … what single guy wouldn’t take up what was on offer? Yet she couldn’t pretend to like it, either. ‘I’m sorry. It was meant as a joke, but I guess it came out a bit snarky.’

  For a few beats he said nothing, just went to pick up his drink again, the cocktail glass looking so delicate in his large hands, attached to his big, strapping body. Finally his green gaze pressed hers. ‘I’ve not slept with another woman since I met you.’

  His quietly worded admission stunned her. ‘Why? We’re only friends.’

  ‘So you keep saying.’ With a sigh he nodded over to one of the green leather sofas. ‘Why don’t we sit somewhere more comfortable? I’ve had enough of standing behind this bar tonight.’

  Luke needed to sit. His legs ached from standing all evening, his balls ached from wanting to lift Mia onto the bar and kiss the life out of her, and his chest … well, he wasn’t sure why that ached. Maybe it had something to do with knowing that Mia wasn’t ever going to be more than a friend.

  Mia slipped off her Converses and sat cross-legged on the sofa. He eased in next to her, giving his balls a little more teasing. Here she is, all natural and warm and smelling like spring, but you can’t touch her.

  ‘The other day, when we were at the Lowry.’ She spoke softly, eyes downcast. ‘I saw the text from Vicky.’

  ‘I know you did.’ Her gaze jumped to his and he gave her a half smile. ‘The mood between us changed. You were less relaxed. I figured either you’d seen Vicky’s message, or you were cheesed off that I’d booked the tour of Old Trafford.’

  Her lips twitched. ‘Then you decided it couldn’t possib
ly be the latter, because who in their right mind wouldn’t want to see the Theatre of Dreams?’

  ‘Exactly.’ He shifted so he was facing her. ‘Vicky is a sales rep I used to see from time to time when she was in the area.’ Reaching into his pocket, he dug out his phone and scrolled through his messages. ‘She wanted to meet up a few days after I’d left that first message in the window to you, but I declined. As soon as I got back home after the Old Trafford visit, I messaged her to tell her I wouldn’t be seeing her again. Here, take a look.’

  Mia stared at the phone, then shook her head. ‘I don’t need to see your private messages.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll read it out to you. Hi Vicky, wanted to let you know I’ve met someone. She’s unlike anyone else I know and I’m rapidly becoming besotted, hence this is goodbye.’

  Mia took a big gulp of her drink, then coughed, the vodka clearly hitting her throat. ‘That’s, well, a bit cold? Just goodbye?’

  He tried not to let it bother him that she’d focused on that, and not the first part. ‘We had a relationship based purely on sex, Mia. She wouldn’t expect … wouldn’t want anything else.’

  Her big blue eyes searched his and he wondered what she was thinking. That he was cold? Ruthless even? That wasn’t him though. Maybe it was how he’d become, but detached sure as hell wasn’t how he felt now, sitting next to her in the deserted bar, the lights above the bar casting a soft glow across the place.

  After a few more beats of silence, her lips curved upwards. ‘Besotted, huh?’

  God, he loved looking at her mouth. Loved looking at her. ‘I’d say that was a fairly accurate description.’

  She knocked back the rest of her cocktail. ‘I think I may need another drink.’

  It wasn’t the reaction he’d hoped for, but he climbed to his feet. ‘Sure, any requests?’

  ‘Nope, you choose.’ She waggled her eyebrows at him. ‘Though I don’t know how you can follow a Manchester Bee, an Electric Smurf and a Giggling Yoda.’

  ‘Such little faith.’ Though as he crossed to the bar, he wasn’t sure either. He surveyed the optics, thinking about the woman on the sofa, and immediately reached for the blue curacao.

  Now for the less obvious. Mia was razor sharp, yet she was warm. Genuine. Vodka, he thought. Rum was too sweet, brandy too sophisticated. Gin could work, it was dry, like Mia’s humour, but it was flowery where Mia was more earthy. He added a squirt of lemon juice for the sharpness of her mind, and some soda for the fizz of her personality. Finally, once he’d mixed and poured two glasses, he added some cocktail stirrers which were supposed to look like fireworks, coloured foil cascading from the top of the sticks.

  Her eyes widened as he brought them over. ‘Don’t tell me. It’s called Fireworks over the Blue Danube.’

  ‘Clever, but wrong.’ He touched her glass with his. ‘Here’s to the Blue Mia.’

  ‘There’s a cocktail called Mia?’

  He grinned, enjoying her excitement. ‘There is now.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You named a cocktail after me?’

  ‘I developed and named a cocktail after you.’ He took a swig. Not half bad. ‘Go on, give it a try.’ She took a cautious sip, looking at him over the top of the glass. ‘What do you think? How do you taste?’ And yes, he was aware of the innuendo.

  Clearly so was she, because she shook her head. ‘I’m not going to answer that. Just tell me what’s in it.’

  He listed the ingredients and why he’d chosen them, and was rewarded with a shy smile.

  ‘And the crazy firework stirrers?’

  ‘They dazzle. Just like you do.’

  She pealed with laughter. ‘Oh no, no way.’ Her gaze dropped down. ‘Look at me, I’m sat here in leggings. I’m not dazzling anyone.’

  Irritation burned through him, not with her, but with whoever had made her unable to see what, to him, was so bloody obvious. ‘I am looking at you, Mia. The glint of laughter that’s nearly always in your eyes, deepening their glorious Smurf blue.’ He received a roll of her eyes, but her gaze remained fixed on his and he knew he had her attention. ‘The translucence of your skin. The softness of your natural pink lips, the ready smile. The way you’re not afraid to say what you think, no bullshit, no guile. The way you challenge me, make me laugh, proper belly laugh, more than I can remember doing in a long time.’ Unable to resist, he brought a hand to her face, smoothing his thumb across her perfect skin. ‘You dazzle me.’

  Her throat moved as she swallowed, that blue gaze riveted on his, a world of questions behind it. Not, he thought, for him, but for herself. Did she really want to do what he was so clearly asking – hell, he was almost begging. Was it right for her? Could she ever trust him?

  ‘You’re pretty damn dazzling yourself right now.’ Her hand covered his, eyes continuing to search his. ‘Are we really going to do this?’

  His heart leapt, sensing her opening up to the possibility, but he didn’t want it to happen like this, him persuading her. He wanted her to be as desperate for it as he was. ‘We’re not going to do anything until you decide it’s what you want.’

  She nodded, bringing his hand down and clasping it in hers. ‘What if I want to kiss you? Just, you know, to see if we’re any good together.’

  ‘You really think there’s a chance we won’t be?’

  A smile played around her mouth. ‘Honestly, no. I can’t see you being anything other than a dynamite kisser.’ She licked at her lips, causing a bolt of lust to zap through him. ‘Still, we should try, because if it’s rubbish, we can forget it happened and carry on being friends.’

  His gaze wouldn’t shift from her mouth. He wanted to kiss her more than he wanted to breathe. ‘And if it’s not rubbish?’

  Another lick of her lips. ‘Then we can maybe do it again.’

  He laughed softly. ‘Can we remove the maybe in that sentence? If we’re going to do this right, we need a proper incentive.’

  ‘Of course we do.’ Amusement flickered across her face, but then her breathing changed from smooth to choppy, and her eyes darkened, the blue turning to more of an indigo. ‘Damn it, kiss me, Luke. The anticipation is killing me.’

  He needed no further instruction. ‘Sit on my lap,’ he told her. She eyed him dubiously and he laughed. ‘Come on, I’m not going to bite, at least not our first time.’

  ‘You say that like there’ll be a second time.’

  ‘I know there’ll be a second time.’ He pointed to himself. ‘Dynamite kisser, remember?’

  ‘God, I should never have said that.’

  She scrambled over and straddled him, her buttocks settling on his thighs, brushing against his groin, which immediately perked up. ‘Jesus, you feel good.’ He ran his hands down her back, resting them on her hips when what he really wanted to do was nudge her core even closer to the part of him that ached and throbbed.

  She must have felt him because he saw her swallow, her cheeks flush. And when she spoke, her voice had turned husky. ‘You promised me a kiss.’

  Instead of wasting any more precious moments talking, he angled his head and captured her mouth with his.

  Instantly a zing of pleasure shot through him. Softer even than he’d imagined, her lips felt perfect against his and for a few moments he contented himself with simply exploring them, nibbling, licking, teasing. Soon the desire for more, for deeper, tore at him and he nudged her mouth with his tongue, letting out a groan when her lips parted. Had kissing ever felt this good? Over the years he’d done less and less of it, preferring to get to the main event, but now he realised what he’d been missing out on.

  Or maybe it was Mia who made his body hum, his nerve endings fizzle, just from the feel of her lips, the dart of her tongue. The heat of her.

  It was almost too good, because his hips started to shift restlessly, pushing up against her, needing more contact. More of her. Breath heaving, he had to drag his mouth away before he started something she might regret.

  She looks as blindsided as you. That was
his first thought as he took in her flushed cheeks, her bright eyes. The choppy puffs of breath.

  ‘So?’ he asked, smiling. ‘Worth doing again some time?’

  She nodded, but as she eased off his lap and back onto the sofa, her quiet sigh made his stomach dip. She might be blindsided, but he had an awful feeling she was also conflicted.

  ‘I get the sense you’d have preferred it to have been rubbish.’

  Her eyes met his and she gave him a dry smile. ‘It would have been easier.’

  She had a point. Friends was cleaner, simpler, less messy than a relationship. Yet, even though his attraction to Mia was inconvenient, he didn’t care. What he was starting to feel for her was worth the risk, worth the mess. Then again, that’s because what he was gaining, for however long it lasted, was Mia, in all her gorgeous, natural, unconsciously sexy glory.

  What was she gaining? A guy she didn’t trust, who owned a bar that was probably going bust. No wonder she was backing away.

  Chapter Twenty

  Days after her lock-in with Luke, and Mia couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. Whenever she closed her eyes, whenever her brain had nothing to focus on, it came slamming back to her.

  Dynamite was exactly the right word for the way he kissed. It had been explosive.

  ‘Are you listening to me, or are you ogling that guy opposite again?’

  Elle’s voice shattered Mia’s daydream. The one where Luke hadn’t pulled away. And she hadn’t dashed back to her flat feeling both turned on and terrified. ‘Sorry. I’m listening. The phone signal must have dipped.’

  ‘I’ll pretend to buy that dodgy excuse,’ Elle countered dryly. ‘I said we’re thinking of coming up to see you next weekend. Does that work?’

  ‘Does next weekend mean this weekend, or the following one? I never know.’

  ‘Next weekend always means next weekend. If I’d meant this weekend, I’d have flipping said this weekend, wouldn’t I?’ Elle let out a long sigh. ‘And I thought it was my post-pregnancy brain that was scrambled.’