Chapter 10
SARAH
Good Looking | Suki Waterhouse
Memories of Alex’s hands all over her had been plaguing Sarah for two days. When she tried to paint, when she was cooking dinner, at night in her bed…
Try as she might to fight her attraction to him, she’d missed it. The way he kissed with his whole body. It wasn’t just fingers pressed intentionally to all the places that drove her crazy. It was his thigh pressing between her legs. His shoulders drawing up to pull her closer, letting their bodies undulate together with each movement. His lips igniting an inferno that spread through her body, meeting the small blazes starting up at every point their skin touched. Feeling crushed by the hard weight of him.
Now she had to see him again, unchaperoned, and hope she could trust herself to ignore their physical chemistry by focusing on the fact that she disliked him on a deeply personal level.
She had about convinced herself she could do it when he came around the corner, one hand in his pocket, looking like the spokesman for a prestige menswear brand. Suits weren’t supposed to do it for her. Slightly ratty jumpers and jeans just this side of too tight and shoes that would look more at home on a skateboard than a polished floor—those were her kryptonite on men.
But his shoulders were testing the structural integrity of that jacket, and frankly she had never trusted anything the way his thighs must trust those trousers, and now she knew exactly what was underneath that shirt, and all of it was proving too much to deal with.
‘Am I late? Is that why you look pissed?’ Alex raised his wrist, his watch lighting up to reveal a surprisingly classic design. She might have expected a surplus of information, with graphs tracking his fitness levels, a list of upcoming meetings, a compass. Maybe even the lunar cycle. Instead, with the simple face and sleek leather band, it could easily be mistaken for an analogue piece.
He was cutting it fine, like he had for the invites, but he wasn’t late. And she didn’t have an answer for why she looked pissed outside of actually, yes, you do turn me on rather a lot, and I’ve never been this angry about being horny . So she opened the door wordlessly and walked in. The first thing she noticed was the sheer assault on her olfactory receptors. Florals hit her from every angle, but after a moment, a familiar woody citrus scent cut through it all, reminding her that she did, in fact, like having a sense of smell.
Warmth flooded her back, ruining it as Alex’s proximity reminded her why that smell was familiar.
Then he was stepping around her and introducing himself to the florist, who visibly preened under his attention. She was pretty, with her pink cupid’s bow set below a cute button nose and eyes only a shade or two less blue than Alex’s. Her hair fell to her waist in glossy, dark blonde waves, pinned back on one side with a shimmering bow. And her perfect hourglass figure was draped in a gauzy dress embroidered with roses.
Florals? On a florist? Groundbreaking.
When she referred to Sarah as Alex’s fiancée, she opened her mouth to correct her, but he stepped into Sarah’s space instead, wrapping his arm around her waist. It was, unfortunately, nice , having his bulk pressed against her. Why, of all the attractive people in London, did her body have to react this way to this man?
‘You mentioned wanting daisies, didn’t you, Princess? Daisies everywhere. Filling up the centrepieces, as the focal point of your bouquet, maybe some kind of floral statement piece too. Can you do that?’
Sarah smiled stiffly, nodding at the florist—Rachel, was it?—who was already flipping through a portfolio, showing Alex ideas. Alex specifically. The book was half angled away from Sarah.
If he hadn’t let Rachel believe it was their wedding, he could easily have walked out of there with a date. She’d ask him why, if she could figure out a way to seem like she didn’t care.
As Alex selected daisy varietal after daisy varietal, playing with size and subtle colour variations, he kept trying to shift focus to Sarah, asking her opinion on stem length, petal fullness, and which accent flowers and greenery they should include, all while his hand remained a warm weight on her lower back. Abby was right. He did have good taste, even if he was completely disregarding their instructions. But the arrangements would look beautiful.
When Rachel slipped into the back to fetch some ribbon samples, Sarah stepped out of his arm. ‘You’re doing exactly what Abby told us not to do.’
‘And tell me she’s not going to love what we chose.’ Alex crossed his arms, and she definitely, definitely was not noticing what it did to his biceps. ‘Besides, I think you and I both know that our dear Abigail could stand to fight her mother on a few more things. If Susan wants to throw a fit, she’s welcome to take it up with me. I’ll pay for the damn flowers myself, if I have to. But I’ve watched my brother give her daisies at every key moment of their lives, and since we have a little power here, I’m not letting her wedding day be a departure from that tradition. Now, Princess’—he relaxed his body, pulling her back towards him as Rachel returned—‘will you help me choose a ribbon for your bouquets?’
It was surprising, she thought, these moments of thoughtfulness that came out with each wedding mission they were tasked with. She’d expected him to approach the favours with arrogance and swagger, which she supposed he was, but ultimately in the name of crafting the best possible wedding day. Abby and Erik had both loved the invitations, and the flower selection was perfect.
She wasn’t sure what to do with the information that this man, who annoyed her so thoroughly, seemingly had depths of consideration.
‘Do you want a lift home?’ Alex asked when they walked out, after selecting a white mesh ribbon to bind the bouquets and centrepieces. ‘I’m going that way anyway.’
‘You’re not going back to work?’
‘Just to get my car. I took a half day.’ He shrugged. That felt out of character, based on the number of times he’d cancelled dinner plans with Erik because he was working late.
Investment banking required a deep investment of your personal life, it seemed.
Her instinct was to say no. After the kiss, sitting in a confined space with him felt dangerous. But the previously miserable weather had made way for bright sunshine, and she wasn’t looking forward to her jeans plastering themselves to her skin on the walk from the tube station to her flat. And since he still hadn’t mentioned the kiss…maybe she could assume she was safe.
‘That’d be great, actually.’
‘ Really? ’
Why did his eyes have to sparkle like that whenever he was amused?
‘Yes.’ And she was back to testy. Even if she’d wanted to be a better person, everything about him put her on edge.
The walk back to his office was brief and mercifully silent.
Alex ushered her into the foyer, which looked exactly as she might expect. ‘It’s a bit…soulless,’ she said quietly, hoping her voice wouldn’t ricochet across the endless marble.
He looked surprised that she’d spoken first, but his response was a low laugh that skated across her exposed skin. ‘Yeah. Yeah, it is.’
They had almost reached a bank of lifts in the corner of the room when a voice boomed across the floor. ‘Larsson!’
Alex stiffened, but kept walking. ‘Don’t make eye contact with him. You’ll need five showers to feel clean again, and Erik keeps reminding me we have a global water crisis.’
A small huff of amusement pushed out of her chest. He was funnier when he wasn’t trying to be.
‘Larsson.’ The voice was closer now, and it did have a slimy quality to it. ‘I need your report on Fletcher to finish my proposal.’
‘Keep walking, and call the lift when you get there,’ he muttered to Sarah, before whirling around to snarl, ‘ Pete . You’ll have to figure out the Fletcher file yourself, like you were supposed to . My report has nothing to do with your pitch to them.’
‘But I need—’
Even with a few metres between them now, she could hear the whine in this guy Pete’s words.
‘You need to do your fucking job and analyse the data yourself. I’m out for the rest of the day.’
It was surprisingly hot hearing him speak so firmly, not a hint of humour or charm in his voice.
It was also hot when he opened her door for her so she could load herself into the low passenger seat. It hadn’t surprised her that he had a sports car. Although, it was a classic model in a muted shade of charcoal. Not nearly as flashy as she might have expected. Certainly not as flashy as many of the cars around them.
As he wound slowly through the city streets, Sarah was forced to admit that the previously crisp picture she’d had of him was beginning to jumble, becoming a puzzle she couldn’t help wanting to solve.