His face is close to mine. Nose to nose. I’m tense, rigid, nailed to the wall behind me, his palms flat against it on either side of my head. His eyes are roaming my entire face, and I push myself back against the bricks in a vain attempt to escape the heat of his body.
But he moves in closer, not holding me against my will, but making it pretty impossible for me to escape. My heart is thundering so hard, he must feel it. But it’s not fright that’s the cause of my immobility or heaving chest. It’s something else – something I’m not particularly comfortable with. ‘What are you doing?’ I whisper. I’ve never felt lust so strong or bold, and it’s knocking all sense from me.
He frowns a little, moving back. ‘I believe this might be foreplay.’
Fucking hell.
My lips part to allow some air into my burning lungs. What the hell do I say to that? ‘Or it could be considered assault,’ I counter, tossing my own cup in the bin, too. ‘Depends on how you look at it.’ Assault? What a laugh. I’m aching everywhere, but I’m not about to admit it to this cocky arsehole. I bet women fall at his feet daily. I’m not going to be one of them.
I pad my feet into the concrete, just to check I’m still standing, as he holds my eyes, his forehead a map of lines. He slowly inches nearer again, his mouth coming closer to mine, his breath tickling my skin. I can feel myself falling under his spell, but before I give in to the pull of the lips he’s brandishing, I come to my senses and slam my hands into his chest, pushing him away. ‘Excuse me, but I have no time for holier-than-thou twats,’ I retort indignantly.
‘Ouch.’ He laughs a little, pulling the lapels of his jacket in, but that frown is still there. ‘Then how about you stop following me?’
‘I’m not bloody following you,’ I breathe, exasperated.
‘Sure you’re not.’ He turns on his expensive brogues and walks off. ‘See you around, princess.’
‘I hope not,’ I yell to his back. That arse. It brings tears to my eyes. Bastard.
I feel bemused, hot, lustful, embarrassed, mystified . . . annoyed. ‘Such a twat,’ I say to myself, quickly checking the time. ‘Shit.’
My thoughts realign in a heartbeat. If he’s made me late for this interview, too, I will most definitely be stalking him . . . so I can wring his fucking neck.
I dash off in the opposite direction, waving my arm frantically for a cab. At least I know Mr I believe this might be foreplay won’t be taking this cab.
I’ve never met such a conceited wanker.
Chapter 4
First impressions. They really do count, and what I’m staring at right now doesn’t bode well for my interview. An alleyway. There’s an iron door guarding the entrance with an old metal sign with ‘The Haven’ above it.
The Haven? ‘Hardly,’ I say quietly. But beggars can’t be choosers.
I ring the buzzer on the keypad next to the door and wait.
And wait.
And wait.
I ring it again, this time holding it down for a few seconds so the irritating shrill stretches out, making me wince. There are a few crackles then a huff of displeasure. ‘Patience is a virtue,’ a woman’s voice snaps, making me step back. ‘How can I help?’
I inch forwards, putting my mouth closer to the intercom. ‘Hi, I’m looking for The Haven.’
‘You’ve found it.’
‘I have an interview today. Arranged through the agency.’
‘Your name?’
‘Eleanor Cole.’
‘Push the door.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘The door, dear. Push it.’
I stare at the intercom. Never have I heard the word dear said with such snark. I can almost hear her eyes rolling. A shift of metal snaps my attention from the intercom to the door, and I gingerly reach out and give it a little push. It opens, revealing an alleyway that doesn’t seem to have an end. Or a light. Despite being slightly wary, I cross the threshold, trying to adjust to the dark. There’s a smell of damp brick walls, making my nose wrinkle in distaste. It reminds me of my father’s workshop – old and neglected. The familiar smell dashes my enthusiasm further as I slowly edge forwards. I don’t know where I’m heading or what I’ll find once I make it there. If I make it there. I’ve moved five paces and still can’t see any signs of life at the end. It’s eerily silent.