The Boy Toy - Nicola Marsh Page 0,49

sent that pathetic apologetic text after their confrontation two weeks ago. Once the audition was done, he’d planned on saying sorry in person. But until then, he had to focus.

She stiffened when she caught sight of him in the dimly lit corridor, her hesitation giving him a chance to study her. Man, she looked even hotter than he remembered, with those big hazel eyes and tousled brunette bob and curves he remembered all too well highlighted by a simple black knee-length dress.

Nailing this audition was imperative, and putting their fledgling relationship on hold had been part of his preparation, but seeing her again acted like a sucker punch to the gut, leaving him winded and slightly breathless.

“Hey,” he said, raising his hand in a casual wave, relieved when she crossed the short distance between them.

“How are you?” One of her eyebrows rose, as if daring him to give some trite response.

“Nervous as hell,” he said, the truth spilling from his lips, but he didn’t care. Nothing he said now would change the fact he had to nail the audition of his life in two hours and he’d treated this gorgeous woman appallingly because of it.

“The audition’s today,” she said. A statement, not a question. Then again, she’d already know, considering she’d been helping Dixon. But he couldn’t think about that now. It would only derail his carefully prepared mental plan to deal with the upcoming audition.

“Yeah, I’m heading home to change, then going to the studio.”

“Good luck,” she said, sticking out her hand for him to shake it like some goddamn acquaintance.

“Thanks.” He took her hand and tugged, her body slamming flush against his as he covered her mouth with his.

She gasped in surprise, and he took advantage of it, his tongue seeking out hers, elated when she gripped his shirt and pushed him up against the nearest wall like she wanted to clamber all over him.

He groaned a little, or that might’ve been her, as the kiss deepened. Hot. Long. Sexy as hell.

She broke it off, her breathing ragged as she smoothed down his shirt where she’d bunched it before stepping away.

“That’s one hell of a good luck wish,” he said with a grin.

“I should be mad at you.” She thumped his chest. “And I have been. But I know this audition is important to you, and I hope you kill it.”

“Thanks.”

He wanted to tell her everything right then. Why the money from this job was so important, why the housing commission kids needed the speech therapy program, why he empathized.

But he had to get his head back in the game, starting now.

“Pity you didn’t sabotage my rival.”

Predictably, shutters descended over her eyes. “He’s a client, so you know I can’t discuss him with you.”

“Yeah, I know.” He swiped a hand over his face. “Sorry for being a schmuck.”

A soft sigh escaped her lips. “I’m guessing you have reasons for overreacting the way you did to me coaching him, and for avoiding me after that amazing afternoon we spent together at my place, but I’m too old to play games.”

She brushed a soft kiss on his cheek. “I really do wish you all the best with the audition.”

With that, she left him standing in the corridor, torn between wanting to run after her and run from her as fast as he could because of the unexpected feelings rioting through him.

Twenty-Three

I am so sick of you using me,” Manish said, with a wink as he puffed out his chest. “The least you can do if you’re going to treat me as a plaything is use me for my body.”

Samira rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. “You’re an idiot.”

“But you like me anyway, huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows, and she barked out a laugh.

“You know what this lunch is about, so behave.” She grimaced. “My mom doesn’t need the slightest sign of encouragement.”

“Relax, I’ve got this.” He held up his hand to count off points on his fingers. “No flirting. No meaningful eye contact. No touching. No encouraging. No problem.”

If only it would be that easy. Samira had facilitated this lunch to prove to her mom once and for all there was no future with Manish beyond friendship. Because despite their chat after the aunties debacle, Kushi had persisted in calling her every night, and the conversation eventually steered in the direction of Manny being marriage material.

She’d had a gutful.

As if she wasn’t nervous enough about this lunch, she’d had to run into Rory just before leaving the center. Considering his