Until I Met You by Jaimie Roberts Page B

person?”
    “You’re a tough cookie to crack, my angel.”
    “I am not your angel!” I screamed.  I think I may have stamped my foot a little.  I’m losing it, I’m losing it.  Calm down Angelina, he’s only a man.  A man-whoring sex God.  Oh boy!  
    “And another thing,” I said, trying to calm myself.  “You’re not cracking my cookie!”
    An eruption of laughter left Seth’s lips again as I tried to cling onto any remnants of dignity I had left after my little child strop.  He looked at me and smiled.  A great big, heart-warming, show-stopping smile.  I couldn’t help it, my lips curved up.
    “There it is!  Blimey, it’s beautiful.”
    I almost went weak at the knees.  “What?” I asked trying to be as casual as possible.
    “Your smile.”
    “Oh shut up,” I blurted, turning my heels to head for the lift.  I couldn’t help the silly grin plastered on my face.  “By the way,” I said getting into the lift.  “Not that I’m entertaining the idea of lunch, but why are you celebrating?”
    “I’m going to buy all three.  I asked Jonathan to cancel your appointments.  There’s no need for them to come now that they’re all mine.  Besides, I’ll get to have you all to myself during that time.”
    Heat and throbbing, heat and throbbing.  Is it more heat, then throbbing?  I couldn’t tell, one seemed to mesh with the other.  All I knew was, I ached, and it wasn’t because I drank too much rum last night either.  This was a different ache, in a completely different part of my body.
    Trying to gather myself together, I punched in floor number five.
    “There’s no need to view it—unless of course, it’s empty and you want me all to yourself?” he asked, smiling.
    This man never failed to amaze me.  “You can’t just buy three apartments without looking at them all.  What if there’s something wrong, or you don’t like it?”
    Seth frowned a little.  “Is there something wrong with it?”
    “No,” I answered.
    “Then I trust you,” he grinned.  “They’re pretty much all the same right?”
    I nodded, but insisted on at least him taking a peek.  He might not like the view, or something—anything.  You don’t just spend two point two million just like that without seeing what you’ve bought first.
    He seemed to go along with it; I think to amuse me more than anything.  We got there, he peeked, spent all of about ten seconds looking around, and that was it, he was off.
    “Now, can we get to lunch?  We’ve wasted enough time already.”
    “What, a few seconds?” I huffed.
    “A few seconds less that I could be spending sipping a bottle of beer and staring into those magnificent eyes of yours.  They look—I don’t know—somehow familiar.”
    I frowned and shifted again.  What could I say to that?  I’m supposed to hate him.  Right?
     
    Seth’s driver took us to the restaurant around the corner from where I worked and lived.  The one that’s supposed to be over-priced, but oh so over-the-top, melt in the mouth good.  I’d been dreaming of going there ever since I heard of the place.  For three weeks I’ve been passing this restaurant on the way to the shops, and for three weeks I’ve been dreaming of one day entering it, rather than passing.  Now I was here, with sexy arsehole.
    As we entered, Seth was greeted by name by the Maitre d’, who escorted us to a discreet table in the corner.  Of course he’s well known here, silly me.  He probably brings all his bunnies here, and now the Maitre d’ thinks I’m one of them.
    “What can I get you, Mr Jacobs?”
    “I’ll have a beer please, Terence, and Angel here will have a…?”
    “Orange juice please,” I answered quickly.
    “Had enough booze last night?” he asked, amused.
    I shook my head, trying not to smile.  “No, I have clients later; it never looks good when I turn up stinking of drink.”
    That lip of his curved up as he drank me in.  “Who says you’re not smelling