Seeing White

by Charlotte E Hart

  We both stare at her from the kitchen counter, mouths gaping, and then burst into fits of hysterics.

  “Really? Like massive?” Teresa questions.

  “Yes, quite a stretch actually,” Belle replies, chuckling.

  “Well that’s definitely one thing they’ve got in common,” I mutter. Both their eyes shoot to mine.

  “Bloody hell, I seriously need to get some action. It’s so unfair,” Teresa sighs, wiping tears from her eyes.

  “Right, what’s going down in this bloody kitchen? It looks like a bomb site,” Belle says as she brushes some bread crumbs onto the floor with a look of disgust.

  “I messed stuff up and I’ve fallen behind because I can’t get that man out of my head. It’s infuriating,” is my meek reply as I continue chastising myself for my idiotic behaviour.

  “Right, well, we better sort it out then.” Rolling up her sleeves, she points Teresa toward the sink and grabs some salmon from the side. “Salmon mousse?”

  “You’re the best. I love you both,” I reply with a tear.

  “I wouldn’t say that, honey. You’ve not seen the mess I’m going to make of the dessert,” Teresa says, giggling as she begins throwing pans about frantically.

  ~

  About two hours later, we’re back on track and I’m beaming as I look around the work surfaces. Just about everything is prepared and all that’s left is the champagne run. It’s plain sailing from here on so I brush off my flour-laden black t-shirt and jeans and go to make a coffee.

  Pulling out my hair net, I tie my hair back up into its high ponytail and head for the back room.

  “What time is James picking it all up?” Belle asks. “And perhaps you should go out with him again. You know, he was rather lovely to you last time if I remember rightly.”

  James Bennett is a regular freelance chef who has done work for us since the shop opened. We went out on a date about two months ago, which was really quite nice. I’d been plucking up the courage to ask him out again when the inimitable Mr. White entered my life. Unfortunately, James no longer holds the same interest to me now. Rubbish as that might be. He’s good looking, has sandy hair and soft eyes, around six foot, well built and we have so much in common, but since a rather more deviant pair of blue eyes has scorched me, I simply can’t think about anyone else.

  “He’s coming at five thirty and it’s three now, so I guess I should get across town and pick up the champagne. And yes, you’re right, he is lovely but I’m not sure the timing’s right anymore,” I reply, trying to deflect her.

  “Cool, make me one of those please, honey.” She points at my coffee and twirls away.

  “And me please,” Teresa shouts from the front of the shop.

  “Can nobody make coffee apart from me?” I shout sharply, trying to remember the last time one of them actually used the coffee machine.

  “No, darling, you know I only pour wine and Teresa is bloody useless with the whole milk and sugar thing. Besides, yours always tastes better,” she says, grinning her big sister grin. I snarl my mouth at her and hope I’m making a point. She laughs at me and flounces off.

  “Umm, Beth, could you come out here a minute please?” Teresa calls timidly.

  “Oh for God’s sake, what’s gone wrong now?” I practically shout, walking to the front of the shop and seriously considering pulling my hair out.

  Shit!

  I freeze as I round the corner to see Alex gazing at me from the counter with an enormous bunch of flowers that is just beyond words. I’m speechless, my mouth gaping like a bloody idiot as I take him in for a moment. He’s head to toe in a midnight blue suit. Crisp white shirt, no tie. The whole look somehow making those cool blue eyes sparkle like diamonds at me. Either that or it’s the black as coal hair highlighting them again. And oh god, the enigmatic smile. Like a ray of sunshine flooding my senses and dominating the small space around him. I can do no more than stare at him, practically panting with lust at the Adonis in front of me.

  No, wait a minute. I’m mad at him. The arse didn’t phone me for four days. My eyes narrow, the thought reminding me of his actions. Stand up to him, Beth. Close your bloody mouth, Beth.

  “Hello, Elizabeth,” he says with a beautifully raised eyebrow.

  “Alex.” I close my mouth and try to regain some control over my traitorous body.

  “How are you?” he asks, quirking his head to the side and glancing at my neck.

  “Fine, thank you. You?” I reply, my best unamused voice in full force. God, he’s beautiful.

  “I’m well, thank you. I wondered if you were free for a coffee.” His own eyes narrow slightly at my hostility, a step forward in my direction.

  “Did you? I’m afraid I’m a little busy here. Perhaps you should have called.” I glare back at him, inwardly sticking my tongue out. He studies me for a second or two and slowly draws his lips up into a clearly very amused smile.

  “Ah, I see. You’re a little annoyed at me for not calling you, Miss Scott,” he says, putting the flowers on the counter and moving closer, all the time walking in that way that means he’s coming for me.

  “Not at all, Mr. White,” I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Whatever would give you that idea?”

  I feel both of the girls retreat into the back room when they sense the storm brewing, Belle chortling to herself as she mumbles a “You go girl.”

  Alex briefly glances at the girls, taking in their reactions and then resumes his amused face at me.

  “It was a mistake and I’m sorry. I’ve been... preoccupied.” He’s using his sexiest smile and I feel myself weakening at his reaching hands as he stalks his way to the hatch, cougar like.

  “No. You stay that side,” I say, pointing at the shop front. I absolutely must not let him touch me.

  Oh god, please touch me.

  “Elizabeth, let me touch you.” He smiles again and keeps moving gracefully with his intent showing in every fibre of his body.

  “No, I will not let you touch me because that would mean I forgive you and I don’t, not for one minute, until you give me a decent explanation.” I narrow my eyes again and set a stern face.

  Doing well, Beth. Keep it up.

  He lifts the bloody hatch anyway and brings himself within a foot of me, not touching me, just waiting with his hands in his pockets in that casually arrogant pose of his.

  “Do you want me to touch you, Elizabeth?” he whispers, leaning in toward my ear. Oh god, yes.

  “Absolutely not. You don’t deserve it.” I raise my chin, move a step backwards and look into his eyes again, trying for angry and folding my arms across my chest.

  “I don’t doubt that for a second, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want me to put my hands all over you, in you.” My eyebrows shoot up at the thought. He keeps up his superior smile and closes the space between us again. I’m now close to being pinned under the bread slicer.

  “When you’ve explained to me why you think it’s acceptable to not call me for four days then we’ll see what we can do to rectify the no touching thing.”

  I glare at him, hoping I’m getting my point across when really all I want is for him to kiss me, or slam me against the wall. Either would be good. My eyes narrow at my own pathetic inward response as I glance at his pocketed hands. It would be far too easy to succumb to those fingers, which are currently located very close to his quite delicious cock. Shit.

  My eyes fly upward again in an attempt to regain some control.

  “What are you doing for the next hour?” he asks, gazing at me.

  “I have to go to Richi’s to get some champagne for a party tonight,” I clip as I remove my apron from my waist and think about trying to squeeze past him. It’s probably not going to happen.

  “Fantastic. Andrews can do that and we can go for a coffee then,” he retorts as if nothing is going on.

  “Alex, you can’t just waltz in here and sweep me off my feet again. I am pissed at you,” I almost shout, a new found at
titude fortifying whatever uselessness was occurring.

  “Again? Have I swept you off your feet already, Miss Scott?” His humour is not appreciated in the slightest.

  “Yes… No. Christ, Alex, you’ve been an arsehole.” I’m seething suddenly, ready to launch a tirade of insults at him for the behaviour. “I will not be played for a bloody fool.”

  “I appreciate that, and I will do my best to correct that issue, but we are going for a coffee and I will pick you up and carry you if I must,” he states as he looks me up and down, hooded eyes lingering on every part of me. “I like this new feisty you.” He winks at me, smirking still.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” I hiss, my eyes widening. He wouldn’t, would he? “And don’t laugh at me. This is not funny.”

  “Please, you know very well I will and I’ll enjoy it very much when you’re over my shoulder. It’ll give me greater access to your delectable arse.” He raises an eyebrow in warning.

  I hear Belle and Teresa snigger from the back. Helpful, ladies, thank you.

  “I have a job to do and I’m going to do it. If you would like to come with me and explain yourself then you’re welcome to do so.” Ha! Deal with that one, Mr. White.

  Both his eyebrows rise as he continues with the amused expression. Arrogant bastard.

  Quick as a flash and with no warning whatsoever, he moves with lightning speed and throws me easily over his shoulder, his arm clamped over my thighs as he walks us out of the serving area and heads toward the door.

  “Alex, put me down. You can’t just do what you want with me,” I scream, struggling in his grasp. I don’t move an inch.

  Belle and Teresa rush back to the front of the shop to see what’s happening, Teresa with her mouth hanging open and Belle grinning like a fool.

  “Elizabeth, you’re coming for a coffee with me and that is my final word on the matter,” he says commandingly, landing a rather painful smack on my backside then laughing to himself.

  “Ouch!” I shout. “That hurt.”

  “Good, perhaps you’ll go for the easier option next time then.” He chuckles matter-of-factly. “I did ask you nicely.” He laughs. Again.

  “Girls, help me,” I practically scream towards them, not sure what I want them to do or even if I want them to do anything anyway. “Put me down, Alex. I’m not a child.”

  Belle laughs hysterically and Teresa simply mouths, “White Knight” at me. Well thank you so much for your support. I narrow my eyes at them both.

  As we get outside, he turns toward the car and addresses Andrews. Lovely, my arse in the chauffeur’s face.

  “Andrews, could you go to Richi’s and pick up Miss Scott’s champagne? Call me when you get back,” Alex barks. “And have Antony call me if there are any issues.”

  With that, he turns and starts to stride along the high street towards the crowded streets of the city. I look longingly at Andrews hoping for help in some way. There’s none forthcoming. He simply smiles and nods at me as if this is perfectly normal behaviour.

  “Jesus, Alex, put me down. You cannot possibly think this is acceptable. It is not acceptable,” I whisper, some venom muttered though my lips.

  “Ask me nicely,” he replies in an unconcerned manner, still continuing at speed.

  “What?” Nicely? What the hell?

  He stops stock-still in the middle of the pavement, hands clamping tighter around my thighs.

  “I’ll happily carry you all the way, because the more you struggle, the more I’ll spank that arse. That will almost certainly get me absurdly aroused and then I’ll have to fuck you in the nearest hotel I can find. I am already thinking about doing it anyway.” The hands tighten even more, bruising the back of my legs and making me suck in a breath. “Believe me when I say that you are about to find out exactly what my preferences look and feel like, Elizabeth. So if you want to walk, you’ll have to ask me nicely and you’ll need to damn well mean it.”

  Is he asking me to beg for him to put me down when he’s the one behaving like a Neanderthal? What on earth is this bizarre twilight zone I’ve been deposited in, for Christ’s sake?

  “You are the one being ridiculous here, not me,” I quite firmly point out, struggling to get free again. It’s not happening any time soon.

  The direct smack that comes across my backside is immediate.

  “Christ, that really hurt, you arsehole,” I yell, feeling the sting radiating across my backside through my jeans. A second lands almost instantaneously, causing me to groan at the continued pain.

  “Do not call me an arsehole. Do you want another one or are you going to ask me nicely?” I can sense his eyebrow rising at me. No, I don’t want another one.

  “Can you put me down, please?” I reply, quietly seething and just waiting until my feet are on the floor to give him the entirety of my venom.

  “I’m not feeling the begging in that statement, and I love your begging, Elizabeth,” he replies, cheekily rubbing his hand across the sting. “Try harder.” I can’t help but smile and roll my eyes at him as I stare at the floor and watch people gawping at us. The situation is becoming just a little bit amusing and my arse is feeling all warm and glowy for some strange reason.

  “Sir, would you please consider lowering me to the floor so I can look into your eyes?”

  That will definitely work for him.

  His body instantly tenses for a few seconds and I feel him exhale. His fingers stiffen dramatically on my thighs, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he begins easing his grip just a little.

  “Say that again, slower this time,” he rasps out huskily. It’s working.

  “Sir, would you please consider lowering me to the floor so I can look up into those extraordinarily beautiful eyes,” I reply slowly, using my sexiest voice and lightly brushing my fingers over his, quite unfairly at the moment, backside.

  He releases my legs and slowly lowers me to the floor, exhaling a breath as he grasps the sides of my face in his hands and looks down into my eyes.

  “You really are so beautiful, Elizabeth,” he says, loosening his hold and just staring at me. “Do you have any idea how you make me feel?” No. Although if it’s anything like my feelings at the moment that’s got to be good. “I haven’t felt anything for so long and... I don’t know what is it about you, but you… Fuck it.”

  His lips meet mine in the most heart-warming kiss I have ever felt. Slow and yet so demanding, his tongue flicking at my mouth as if seeking permission to enter. I respond with my normal vigour and then stop breathing, utterly lost in the moment. Our mouths entwine in a duel of lust and passion, our bodies stuck to each other in a seamless union. His hard, muscular body presses into mine as he pushes me backwards towards a shop window, his hand moving to that place on my throat that lifts me to a different echelon as he grinds himself into me shamelessly.

  Oh my God, I’d so follow him to that hotel right now if he pressed me.

  Eventually, when we have finished our coupling session in the middle of the high street like a pair of horny teenagers, he takes my hand in his and leads me down the road towards a coffee shop on the corner. Several women smile at me, their hands fanning themselves at our little show. I’m not surprised because my inner slut is still thinking about hotel rooms and Alex’s devilish grin at them clearly has the same effect as it does on me. My feelings of anger and humiliation appear to have totally evaporated for some unknown reason and once again he seems to have won me over. I’m really going to have to work on this staying mad at Alex thing.

  He inclines his head towards the booth seat in the corner of the coffee shop and goes to the counter to order, seemingly knowing what I’ll want. I have no idea how. Perhaps those pesky little fairies are hard at work again.

  I sit and look out the window at the passing people going about their everyday lives. A family walks by and the little girl looks at me through the window, her eyes sparkling as she smiles and waves in that oh so cute way that small people do. Her mother rapidly grabs
her hand and nods her head at me. I smile back and wave at the little girl with a sigh as I watch her dark curls bobbing away down the road, her mouth giggling as she jumps in puddles.

  “Do you like children?”

  Alex brings me out of my little moment by placing the tray on the table. I notice the double shot of espresso and what appears to be my regular drink of a vanilla latte.

  “How do you know what I like to drink?” I ask suspiciously.

  “There are no ends to my super powers, Miss Scott,” he states casually. More like super fairies. “Children, do you like them?” I narrow my eyes at his superpowers but can’t help glancing at the little girl again as she skips off down the road.

  “Yes I do, very much. They have an innocent view of the world. They are what we make them, and I like that they are all about fun and freedom,” I reply, smiling wistfully and reaching for my drink.

  “They’re most definitely what they are made to be,” he mutters in a low voice, reaching for his coffee and looking lost in his own thoughts for a minute. Okay, childhood is probably not a place he wants to visit. Change the subject, Beth.

  “So, what did you want to talk about?” I ask, my best happy voice in place.

  “Everything and nothing. I just wanted to see you.” He sighs a little. “I missed seeing you.”

  “Really? Because not phoning me for days is the best way to show me how much you miss me,” I return with as much sarcasm as I can muster. He sighs and looks at his espresso, then out toward the street. Oh god, what is he going to say now?

  “Elizabeth, I don’t know how to do this,” he says, a sad lilt coming over his features.

  He’s going to dump me. Great.

  I look down at the table and fiddle with my coffee cup. His hand reaches toward my face instantly and he strokes my cheek with his thumb, tilting my chin upwards.

  “Why do you look so sad?” he asks quizzically. “You were happy a moment ago. Did I do this to you?”