Читать книгу Enemies with Benefits - Louisa George, Louisa George - Страница 10

‘WE HAVE MICE. At least, we’ve seen one little critter upstairs. I thought I should let you know.’ Isaac paid for his coffee and nodded his thanks to Marco, the café owner. ‘I’ve got a couple of traps and we’ll sort it out our end. Just keep an eye out down here in case they migrate.’

‘Okay, cheers, mate, I’ll have a look, but we’re usually on top of zeez things. No mices here.’ Marco pushed Isaac’s coffee towards him and started to serve the next customer.

Isaac took his cup, negotiated the defunct fireman’s pole that connected their upstairs apartment with Ignite café, and found a seat, aiming to fortify his strength with a sharp caffeine buzz before he nipped back to the flat. The last thing he wanted was to bump into Poppy and relive the awkwardness of earlier. A coffee shot would help. Plus keep him awake for the long night’s work ahead.

He took a sip. Added an extra sugar for luck. Opened his smartphone and reviewed his notes. The only thing of any consequence he’d managed to achieve today was to check the availability of the bar for Friday, for Poppy. Then he’d sorted out a mousetrap, for Poppy. Spoken to the manager at Ignite café, for Poppy. And hidden in the café, from Poppy. The woman was invading his every living, breathing moment, not to mention his to-do list.

Which was very interesting. He never allowed any woman to ever invade anything at all. Work came first. Always. Work was predictable and straightforward. Work didn’t change the goalposts or come with an agenda that you didn’t understand. He knew where he stood with his business—knew what he needed to do to be the best. And he’d made damned sure he had been, throwing hour after hour, year after year into transforming his bars into award-winning establishments. Being pretty much uprooted and homeless by the age of sixteen, he was used to travelling, liked the challenge of working in different countries, of winning the hearts and loyalty of the Parisians and the Dutch. Next stop, the States, and he’d be a success there, too. That would show everyone who’d ever doubted him.

But despite what he’d said and what he’d tried to convince himself to believe, he’d really enjoyed that kiss. The cheeky glimpse of Poppy’s half-naked body bathed in moonlight hadn’t been half bad either. Which, hands on heart, had not been his fault. She’d said she was ready, when in reality her silky top hadn’t quite covered everything it needed to. He’d turned away … too late.

Hell. He closed his eyes briefly at the mental image; she was definitely all woman. And off every limit he had. So the fact his brain kept wandering back to those scenes last night—the kiss, her body, her smell, even her pyjamas—was very inconvenient.

He added fast-track the renovations to his to-do list. He could control his libido, but he couldn’t guarantee for how long, so the sooner he was out of that flat, the better. Stupid enough to get in any way involved with a woman, doubly so to get carried away with a woman he had too much history with. That could get all kinds of messy.

Isaac subscribed to the ‘no promises, no commitment, no heartbreak’ school of relationships. Easy. In his bitter experience commitment usually lasted just until someone better, richer, younger came along, leaving chaos and hurt in the slipstream. He didn’t need any of that.

The doorbell pinged behind him as someone entered along with the cold December wind-chill factor. Women’s voices. His gut pinged, too, as his hand froze, coffee cup halfway between the table and his mouth. Izzy’s northern-infused accent. Poppy’s hesitant laughter.

So much for avoiding her.

Gulping the too-hot coffee and almost suffering third-degree burns in the process, he put his cup on the table, tugged up his coat collar around his ears, focused on his phone and concentrated on trying to be incognito. Plan A: when they started to order at the counter he’d slip out unnoticed.

‘Isaac! Hello.’ Izzy dropped a kiss on his cheek, then shoved a stray lock of short blond hair behind her ear, beaming. He’d met a lot of Poppy’s friends over the years, as part of a peripheral group that tagged along whenever Poppy’s brother, Alex, was home on leave, but never had he envisaged living with any of them. Strange how life worked out. ‘Long time no see. Where’ve you been?’

‘Hi, Izzy. Hello, Poppy. I was in Europe for a while sussing out some bar venues. We’ve just opened one in Bastille and we’ve another planned for Amsterdam.’ He tried to focus on Izzy, but his eyes kept drifting towards the woman he’d spent the night with. She refused to meet his gaze, keeping her focus on the counter ahead, then on Izzy, a small polite wave to Marco. Scraping his chair back, Isaac lifted his plastic carrier. ‘I got some traps. I’ll head upstairs now and set them up. Do you have any peanut butter?’

Finally Poppy looked up at him, her make-up-free cheeks pinking. Instead of her regulation work ponytail her hair hung in loose curls around her shoulders, which normally would have made her look younger, if it hadn’t been for the purple shadows under her eyes.

She pulled a thick cream cardigan around her uptight shoulders and stamped black suede boots on the tiles. Her mouth had formed a grim line. Clearly the hangover still hung.

Even so, she still looked breathtaking. He’d never really thought of her like that until yesterday. But breathtaking was the only way to describe her. Yeah … well, she’d certainly taken his breath away with that surprise kiss last night. As she spoke he wondered what could happen next time, if he left his principles at the bedroom door. Which was never going to happen. Because he would never let them get into that situation again.

She frowned. ‘I thought mice ate cheese.’

‘The guy in the market said to use peanut butter—apparently they love it. If we don’t have any I’ll head to the shop and get some.’

‘No. There’s some in the cupboard by the fridge.’ She peered up at him. ‘Smooth.’

‘Thanks. I like to think so.’ He grinned.

‘Yeah, Mr Big Shot, whatever. I was talking about the peanut butter, not you.’ She tutted, her shoulders dropping a little as her eyebrows rose. ‘You definitely fall in the crunchy camp.’

‘Oh, and now I’m mortally wounded.’ Still, it was good to have her at least being able to look at him. Things could get weird in the flat if they couldn’t speak to each other. ‘Well, I’ve got to set these traps then get back to work … Oh, talking of … the private room’s free at Blue on Friday for your work get-together if you still want it. Do you need to come and view it?’

‘No, I don’t think—’ She looked off-balance and not particularly thrilled at having this conversation.

‘Or are you fine taking my word for it?’ He could give them both a get-out if he sorted it all here. Then he could head off to his sanctuary and work out what the hell was going on in his head. Or at the very least try and get her out of it. ‘How many will be coming? Do you need food? I can get the chef to make up a specials menu for you all.’

‘I think there’s probably about twenty of us, including some spouses and partners.’ She matched his smile. Not too friendly. ‘I’m sure the regular menu will be fine.’

Good, no need to spend any more time with her than necessary. ‘Great. I’ll see you later. Some time. I’m kind of busy at the bar so I might not be around much.’

Way to go—Poppy’s whole demeanour seemed to brighten. ‘Oh—okay.’

‘Wait. Isaac?’ Izzy interrupted and his optimism floundered. ‘Maybe Poppy and I should come over this afternoon. I’d love to see your new bar. I’m scouting out places for the wedding reception. And Poppy? How can you organise a party without checking out the venue first?’

‘Oh, I trust Isaac,’ she said in a voice that conveyed the opposite. ‘I’m sure it’ll be fine.’

Izzy looked at her friend with growing incredulity. ‘It’s a cocktail bar, right? And you’re on a day off?’

Poppy gave a weak shrug. ‘Yes. Actually, just for a change I have some time off. And I was hanging out for a coffee. You know Marco makes a mean espresso.’

‘Forget the coffee. What are we waiting for? Blue awaits. Come on, bride-to-be’s prerogative.’ Blissfully ignorant of the awkwardness in the room as she rode her fluffy happy wedding cloud, Izzy smiled. ‘A cocktail will be fun. Happy hour for mates, okay, Isaac?’

Looked as if he had no choice.

Looked as if none of them had a choice. The bride-to-be certainly did hold all the cards.

Poppy shook her head as she wiggled out of Izzy’s hold and held up her hands. ‘No, I’m sorry, not today, we can go to Blue some other time. Come along with us on Friday if you want—there’ll be quite a crowd. But as from today I’m officially on the wagon. I’m never drinking again.’

‘Why ever not?’ Izzy asked. ‘It’s Christmas time. We have to drink and be merry. It’s the rule.’

‘I had too much last night. You know me, I’m a very cheap date and rubbish at holding my booze.’

As Isaac well knew, to the detriment of a sane mind and a decent night’s sleep. And that kiss that made his mouth water for more. ‘Oh, don’t worry, Poppy, I’m sure we can rustle you up a virgin margarita. Or even—’ he made sure he had her full attention ‘—an almost-virgin one.’

‘Why do you keep …?’ Her cheeks blazed and she looked down at her boots. When she lifted her chin again realisation flamed in her eyes. ‘Oh, my God. I didn’t …?’

‘Didn’t what?’ Izzy’s eyebrows formed a V. She looked first at Poppy and then at Isaac. ‘What are you two talking about? What didn’t you do?’

Isaac saw the pain on Poppy’s face and knew he’d stepped too far. She did sarcasm like a pro, but had also relied on him to hold her secrets close to his chest, and he’d never been tempted to share them so he wasn’t going to start now. Although sometimes she was a little too damned serious for her own good. Honestly, she didn’t need to repent for ever. Everyone had at least one thing in their past they regretted. And being sexually inexperienced wasn’t exactly a crime. Some man would be very lucky indeed to reintroduce Poppy to the dating scene. Isaac only hoped it wouldn’t be a jerk like the last one.

And why did the thought of Poppy with another man make his blood pressure hike? Things weren’t making sense today. ‘Didn’t … get to sort out the rest of the tree decorations. Right, Poppy? Maybe you and Izzy could finish them this afternoon.’ And stay out of my way.

Izzy picked up her bags and shook her head. ‘Rubbish. We’ll come with you to set the traps. I’m so glad you’ve chosen the humane ones—I’d hate to see anything get hurt. We can be The Three Mouseketeers, releasing the mice into their true habitat outdoors. You must call me if you catch any. I’d love to see them. Then we’ll tag along and see what an amazing bar you’ve created, Isaac. I’ve heard so much about it.’ She turned to Poppy. ‘Come on, please? I don’t get the chance to do this very often. I feel like living dangerously. Okay?’

‘Oh, okay. Just a quick drink, but I’m on water.’ Poppy sighed.

And for just a second he was back in that bed watching as she fell asleep. How many times had he shared his bed? Too many to count. And no woman sleeping had made his heart squeeze as she had last night, as if he’d wanted to protect her, to stop her feeling as rotten as she clearly felt. To stop her needing to outright ask for a sexual experience. The accidental glimpse of a woman’s nipples hadn’t ever before made him feel so aroused.

No woman had looked so damned hot with a hangover either.

His groin tightened as he watched her. Goddamn—he needed a bit of distance, not to give her a guided tour of his bar.

Catching Isaac’s eye, she frowned and shook her head minutely, but just enough for him to understand. He got the message loud and clear. Don’t mention it, don’t think about it and definitely don’t ever consider spending another night in my bed.

Which was one hundred per cent fine by him.

Blue lived up to the hype. Even through foggy hangover vision Poppy could see why Isaac had won the Best New Bar Award this year. Decorated in vivid midnight blue with a wall of cascading turquoise water in the centre of what used to be a bank it was startling, edgy and yet a very comfortable place to be with soft, plump easy chairs she sank into.

Or would have been comfortable if she hadn’t been in direct eye line of Isaac all afternoon, on tenterhooks wondering what the heck he was going to say and how she was going to answer. He’d always had slick one-liners, been far too cocky for his own good and she was so out of her league here—tongue-tied with embarrassment.

As it was mid-afternoon the place was quiet with just a couple of other customers sitting up at the long mahogany bar reading the extensive cocktail menu. Izzy tapped her martini glass against Poppy’s sparkling water. ‘Cheers. I’m very impressed—no wonder he’s doing so well if all his bars are like this. He’s a bit of a mystery, though, isn’t he? Flitting in and out of the country … He’s sort of been vaguely around the edge of our group on and off for years, then he’s suddenly rich and successful and renting a room at yours.’

Poppy nodded. ‘Believe me, the renting’s only temporary. He wouldn’t have been my first choice of flatmate. But when Alex offered him your old room I couldn’t exactly say no. I guess Alex thought he was doing us both a favour.’

Izzy winced. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you in a mess.’

‘Ah, look, I’m a landlady, I have to expect these things to happen. Funny, though, we were so settled for all those years, just you, me and Tori in our lovely flat.’

‘Your lovely flat.’

‘Yes, well, I always thought of it as ours really—you helped me find it and decorate it. I just bankrolled it. But then in the space of two months everything’s changed so much I can barely keep up. Tori moved out to be with Mark, and you moved out to live with Harry. Alex moved in, Tori moved back into the box room, Isaac took your old room. And just to spice things up a bit, we had Matt for a month. I’m getting a bit dizzy. It’s like the place has a revolving door at the moment.’ If only Isaac could see fit to revolve out permanently instead of staying over for a few nights here and there … usually unannounced. Still, paying full rent in advance meant his contribution to the mortgage was a big relief to her money worries. In the short term. ‘Besides, with his job he’s hardly around.’ Until recently. Now it felt as if he was around rather too much for her liking.

‘And he hasn’t got a girlfriend? Or at least no woman to stay with until his flat’s ready.’

‘Oh, trust me, he’s had plenty of women.’ Poppy sipped her water and thought briefly about exchanging it for something stronger so she could find some of the bravado she must have had last night. Kissing someone—not even asking, just kissing—took guts. She hadn’t known she had any. Not those kind of guts, anyway. Asking for what she wanted, taking what she wanted. Typical it had ended in disaster.

Izzy clarified, ‘No long-term woman.’

‘According to Alex, Isaac’s dating record is a month. Thirty days. That’s not enough to give anything a chance. I’ve heard of the kind of things he used to get up to with Alex and it’s not pretty. The man’s just a flirt. No self-respecting woman would want long term with him, anyway, not that he’d ever offer. I think watching his mother have failed marriage after failed marriage has put him off any kind of commitment.’ So said the ex–junior psychiatrist in her.

She watched him so comfortable there behind the bar with his colleagues, laughing and joking. The smart shirt accentuated the pecs of steel she’d seen this morning. Her mind drifted back to the tight boxers and her heart rate escalated. She swallowed another gulp of water to douse an unexpected heat rushing through her. God. Hot and bothered just by looking at a man. This never happened. Never. Was she eighteen again?

Ugh. She shuddered. She damned well hoped not.

‘There’s a funny vibe between you two. There’s always been a funny vibe, but it’s getting more vibrant.’

Bless Izzy and her wishful happyed-up thinking. ‘There’s no vibe.’

Her friend touched her arm. ‘Just be careful.’

This was the girl Poppy had known for ever. Only once had she ever kept a secret from her; every other single thing about their lives they had shared. Openly. Everything. And yet she didn’t want to tell Izzy about last night, about kissing Isaac and the weird sensations he was instilling in her. Didn’t want to confess about the hole she felt she had in her personal life and the inadequacies in her professional one. All of which could be fixed by one kind, considerate and caring man and a little sexperience. Isaac did not fit that bill.

But inside her head the only image was of naked shoulders peeking out of her sheets. Too-blue eyes teasing, hot breath on her neck, and tight black boxers. Always the black boxers.

Everything tingled. Every damned thing. ‘Me and Isaac? I don’t think so. Seriously.’

Izzy nodded. ‘You’re probably right—too close to home. Too weird after all these years. He’s definitely good to look at though.’

‘Says the married-woman-to-be.’

‘Hey, I’m getting married, not joining a convent.’ Izzy drained her glass. ‘I said be careful, I didn’t say don’t act on the vibe. You could always just have a little …’ her eyes widened ‘… fun.’

Sexual fun? She’d have to look that up in the dictionary.

A crash and the sound of breaking glass had them turning to look back to the bar. Isaac was holding a towel over one of the barmen’s hands. He turned to look at her directly, raised his eyebrows summoning her over. The day was rapidly spiralling into disaster. This was not how she’d planned to spend her holiday.

She stood, wishing that she’d chosen flower arranging instead of medicine as her vocation, then she wouldn’t need to be near him. Smelling him. Thinking about the black boxers. Ahem. Medical emergency?

She dragged on her game face. ‘Looks like I’m needed. Duty calls.’

Izzy stood, too, and grabbed her bags. ‘Do you want me to stay and help?’

‘No. I’ll be fine. You go. Aren’t you supposed to be meeting Harry?’

‘Yes, but … I don’t want to leave you.’

‘Seriously, I’m a doctor, I can manage. You go, this could take a little time. See you later.’

‘Hey, thanks for coming over.’ Isaac looked at the grimacing man and then back to Poppy. ‘My friend Poppy, here, is a doctor, very handy to have around. Jamie’s my business partner and he’s just had a contretemps with a glass. Got a nasty cut—do you think it’ll need stitches? I’ve got a first-aid kit.’

Ignoring the thud-thud of her heart as she got closer to the one person she should have been far away from, she pulled back the towel and peered at the gash. ‘It’s pretty deep. Yes. Yes, it needs sutures and I don’t have anything with me. Your first-aid kit probably won’t do. You’ll have to go to A and E or a GP surgery, I’m afraid.’

Isaac walked the barman to the seating area out front. ‘Okay, Jamie, sit down, mate. I’ll call a cab and come with you.’

‘And close up the bar? Don’t be daft.’

Poppy shook her head, grasping the ‘get out of jail free’ card. ‘I can go with you if you like? This is my kind of territory. I might be able to fast-track you through.’

Jamie looked at them both in turn. ‘Er … seriously? I stopped needing a nanny in primary school. It’s a cut hand, is all. Just get me a taxi and I’ll sort the rest. It’ll leave you short for tonight though, Isaac. Sorry, mate.’

‘Not your problem. Just get it fixed. I’ll be fine.’

‘With the Christmas cocktail lesson starting in thirty minutes? You reckon? How about you call Maisie in?’

Isaac frowned. ‘She’s gone to Oxford with her boyfriend.’

‘Carl?’

The frown deepened. ‘At some uni event. No worries, I’ll be fine. I can manage.’

Jamie turned to Poppy, holding his hand close to his chest. Blood seeped through the towel, vivid red contrasting with his blanching complexion. He needed to be gone and quick. ‘I know this is a long shot, but I don’t suppose you have any bar experience, do you?’

Spend more time with the man she’d shared a bed with? And who her body appeared to want a repeat performance with. This time, with full body contact?

No way. ‘Me? No. Not really.’

Jamie’s shoulders slumped. ‘Just for a couple of hours until I get back, or Isaac can get reinforcements?’

She looked at them both staring at her. Jamie hopeful. Isaac not so much. But heck, she had nothing to do for the next few hours … days … and no one to do it with. She might as well stay and be of use to someone as sit at home with four-legged furry friends and a bent Christmas tree. ‘I … well, I could collect glasses and take orders, I suppose.’

Isaac looked less than thrilled but relieved. ‘Are you sure? Thanks. Most excellent. That would be a great help. I can teach the class, no problem, it’s just the serving I need a hand with.’ He pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek that sent shock waves of lust shivering through her. This was such a bad idea. ‘You’re a star.’

‘I know.’

As they watched Jamie leave in the taxi, Isaac stepped closer, eyes twinkling. ‘You never know, Popsicle, you might learn a few things. Cocktails are my speciality. Especially virgi—’

‘No. Don’t say it. Don’t even go there.’ She stabbed a finger into that hard wall of muscle he had for a chest, resisting the sudden urge to fist his shirt and pull him closer and press her lips to his again—just to remind her what he tasted like. ‘I’m doing this because you looked after me last night. Because you’re letting me have the private room for my party. And because you bought a mousetrap. After this we’ll be even. But be warned …’ She fought the urge to either slap or kiss his now teasing, grinning face. ‘One mention of virgins, almost or otherwise, and I’m gone.’