International Player(43)

All these lines around me were becoming blurred. The only thing that was clear was that I wanted to hang out with him. When he teased me, there was always an undertone of affection in the way he did it. And when I did it back, he seemed to revel in it. He made me laugh, and I enjoyed the way I could elicit a chuckle from him. So maybe one brunch would be okay.

“Okay, brunch—but I have two conditions.”

His gaze flitted through the room.

“What are you looking for?”

“Paperwork. I’ll have to sign something, right? It is brunch, after all. And we might have to refer to said conditions during the course of the next couple of hours.”

“You’re an arse.”

He dipped his head to the curve between my neck and my shoulder and placed a kiss. “Maybe. Tell me your two conditions,” he mumbled against my skin.

“Well, first, you have to make a donation to the center. We’re a little off our target for this month.”

He flopped back onto my bed. “You want me to pay you to hang out with me?”

“I don’t see you asking anyone else to brunch. And you want free rein to make fun of me.”

“And number two?”

“You’ll have to tell me what to wear.”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m not bothered by what you wear.”

“But you know how clueless I am about these things, and how little I care.”

He headed into my wardrobe. “You have a Stranger Things t-shirt. That’s so . . .”

“Geeky, I know.”

He poked his head around the door. “I was going to say cool. It’s a great show.”

“Such a great show.”

“So wear this and some jeans.”

“Noah! I can’t go out in that. That’s stuff I wear at home. You see? This is what I mean. I have the stuff I hang around the house in, and stuff I go to work in. But there’s nothing in between.”

“Why wouldn’t you go out in a t-shirt and jeans? You look phenomenal in jeans. That arse was made for tight denim.”

“Pervert.”

“And a cool t-shirt gives me a reason to stare at your chest, so from my perspective it’s a winning outfit.”

I growled at him. “You’re not being very helpful.”

Despite my semi-protestation, I pulled on the clothes he’d picked out and we headed to brunch.

“You let your driver have the weekends off after you’ve worked him twenty-four hours a day during the week?” I asked as I climbed into the passenger seat of his black Range Rover. “Very generous.”

“Is me having a driver weird to you?” he asked, slamming the door shut and pressing the ignition.

“What do you mean, weird?”

“Do you see me differently? You know . . . because of the money.”

I shrugged. “It’s not like you’re wearing thick gold chains and refusing to drink anything but Cristal.”

He winced as he concentrated on the road. “That tequila I bought was a little showy.”

Showy? Who had he been showing off for? The bar staff? Me? “It tasted good, but I’m not the best judge. It could have been a tenner a bottle for all I know. Your suits are a little nicer, and I haven’t seen your new place, but you seem the same.” As I tried to reassure him, it occurred to me that he was exactly the same guy. The guy who seemed to go through women like they were disposable adjuncts to his life. The one I’d had a crush on so deep I was clambering for ways to stop it developing again. Why was I on my way to brunch with him after a night of a thousand orgasms? I’d told myself casual sex was the way I’d inoculate myself against him, get over him. I had a feeling I’d been kidding myself. He hadn’t changed and neither had I. So why were we here? It was like I was inviting trouble.

“No, you haven’t,” he said. “We should change that. What are you doing tonight?”

“Change what?”

“The fact that you’ve never seen my place. I always come to yours. So, come over. Tonight.”

He wanted to hang out again tonight? I should be flattered, but I knew I needed to push those feelings away. I couldn’t trick myself into thinking this was developing into something more than it was. It wasn’t as if Noah was going to wake up one day and decide I was the woman he’d been waiting for.

“I think brunch is enough for one day.”

He chuckled as he pulled into a parking space. “I’ll convince you by the time you’ve ordered.” Noah had never lacked confidence. And why would he? He’d probably never had a woman knock him back. I’d only said no at the wedding because I could spot danger a mile away.

“This okay?” he asked as I glanced up at the building we were about to enter.

“Sure,” I said. I freaking knew I shouldn’t have worn this t-shirt. London wasn’t the sort of city that everyone had to dress up in, but if we were going to a fancy five-star hotel, I could have at least managed a blouse or something.

“You’re gorgeous. Stop stressing.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me inside. Before I knew it, I was sitting at a linen-covered table, three wine glasses and seventeen sets of cutlery presented in front of me.

“I thought brunch was meant to be casual,” I hissed at him as our impossibly beautiful waitress gave us oversized menus.