Sexy as Hell Box Set by Harlem Dae Page B

and look around, browse what’s on offer, I will. If I see someone I quite like the look of, I’ll file it up here.” I tapped the side of my head. “Once our month is finished I’ll come back, and if that someone is here again and is up for some fun, then fun is what I’ll be having. You don’t tell me where I go or who I see afterwards, you got that?”
    He looked up, and the expression on his face shocked the shit out of me. His eyes were glossy, his mouth downturned, and a frown scored deep wavy lines across his forehead. Had I missed something here or what?
    “I see,” he said. “Well, at least I know where I stand.”
    What? “I thought I’d made it clear from the start where you stood! Where I stood.”
    He nodded, shifting his gaze away from me to stare at the wall behind. “You did. I must have just…I thought… Really, it doesn’t matter.” He shook his head and returned his attention to me. “I apologise. I don’t know what came over me.”
    “Neither do I,” I said, “but it wasn’t very pleasant. Now, are you up for anything tonight or, seeing as you’re in a foul mood, do you want to give it a miss?”
    “No,” he said quickly, reaching out a hand to cover mine. “No, I need…” His face went red. “Tonight is fine. What time?”
    “I’ll text you,” I said, draining my cup as I stood.
    “Where are you going?” he asked, gripping my hand tighter.
    “ Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m going to get that second cup and the Danish I mentioned, all right?”
    He nodded, releasing my hand.
    “Oh, good,” I said, those words brimming with sarcasm. “So glad I have your approval. Do you want a cake?”
    “No, thank you. I think I’ll get the woman to make this a coffee to go.”
    “Suit yourself.”
    I swanned up to the counter, my mind a muddle. He was doing that possessive thing, where he thought I was his property and he had the right to know the ins and outs of my life. Well, he didn’t, and the sooner he realised that the better. I watched him from the corner of my eye. He was sitting there, making no move to leave, staring across at me, that frown still in place, his mouth still an upside down smile. I shrugged it off and ordered a refill and selected the biggest Danish in the glass cake cabinet. Purchases made, I returned to the table and acted as though he wasn’t there—after all, he wasn’t supposed to be. He’d said he was leaving.
    After a couple of minutes with me adding sugar to my drink and making a big deal of stirring it, of me biting into my Danish well aware he watched my every move, I was just about ready to ask him if he wanted to take a picture.
    “Are you ignoring me?” he asked, his tone gentle.
    “Oh!” I said, swiping a stray flake of pastry from my lip. “I thought you said you were getting your coffee to go.”
    “I was. I mean, I am.” He made a move to stand but remained in place.
    “Off you trot then. You must have drawings to draw, clients to impress. Think of all the time you’re wasting sitting here with me.” I bit into my pastry again, not enjoying the taste one bit. It was somehow sour, clogging my throat as I swallowed.
    “What are you… Have you got a nice day planned?” he asked.
    “I haven’t thought about it. I may stay in here all day.” I zeroed my gaze in on one of the men I’d spotted earlier and widened my eyes as if he floated my boat. I was being cruel, I knew that, but Victor had to learn the hard way. Zara Watson was beholden to no man. She was a free spirit, unable to be tethered or bossed around. I returned my attention to him and smiled.
    “All day?” He raised his eyebrows.
    “Yes, and why not? It’s warm, I have nothing better to do but people watch.”
    “Man watch,” he murmured.
    “What was that?” I asked, frowning a bit so he got the impression I really hadn’t heard him.
    “I need a Scotch,” he said. “Think I might go to the wine bar along the way a bit at one o’clock