Page 69 of (Not) The One
‘But a useful skill to have, all the same.’
‘Thisconversationis inappropriate.’
‘You started it, Miranda.’ Why does it sound like he’s purring my name?
‘And now I’m ending it. This can’t happen again.’ I gesture back and forth between us like I’m part of a Taylor Swift tribute act.
We are never, ever, ever having sex together.
‘And it’s James, by the way. Or Harry. Whichever you prefer.’ Great, go ahead and ignore me, though I’m sure my expression must betray my confusion as he adds, ‘James Harrison, at your unending service.’
Oh. Well. The whole James/Harry thing makes sense now. Not that it changes anything.
‘I can’t have sex with you.’Never, ever, ever.
‘Who said anything about sex?’ he says with a straight face, though his eyes glitter with unconcealed amusement
‘You did. Sexual service—unending.’
‘That sounds painful. But I’m game to try. As well as quick, I can also do slow, but then you know that already.’
He’s deliberately trying to goad me, and what’s more, it’s working. And I’m hot—too hot. My cheeks are burning, and while I’d like to say they’re fiery with indignation, it would be a lie. It’s more like I’m burning with need for him.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ I pull on the hem of my shirt, then clear my throat. ‘Like I said, Friday was a one-off.’
‘A one-time thing?’ He takes a step closer, and I take one back.
‘Exactly.’
‘A one-time thing twice?’ Another step for him and another for me, almost as if he’s leading me in a dance.
‘Congratulations, so you can count.’
‘Yes, and I didn’t even have to use my fingers. But I could if you want me to,’ he taunts. I think I might spontaneously combust if he gets any closer. ‘You know what else I can do? See through your bluster. You’re scared.’ My thighs meet the edge of Olivia’s desk, and I realise I’ve nowhere else to go.
‘Scared of you?’ I aim for derision but end up sounding as though I’m asking a question. Am I scared? Yes, I probably am, more so of my reaction to him. I’m not going to say he’s the kind of man I could fall in love with because he’s not like any kind of man I’ve ever known. He’s just too different. Too handsome. Too rich. And altogether too much.
‘You’re scared of letting yourself like me. For more than my cock, that is.’
And... I forgot one. He’s also much too full of himself.
‘You’re unbelievable. And you can wipe that smile off your face because that wasn’t a compliment.’
‘Not the way I heard it.’
‘Two minutes—two minutes and I’m walking down those stairs.’
‘Come on, Miranda. Cut me a little slack. I’ve driven all the way out to the wilds of Hoxton, and you won’t even have lunch with me.’
‘I’m not looking to get involved.’
‘With a sandwich?’
‘And if I was looking for a man,’ I add, ignoring his ridiculousness, ‘which I’m not. But you and I, we’re just too different.’
‘So you’re saying you only date men like you? Gorgeous and funny and with great taste in underwear because if that’s the case, I’m confused.’
‘You really are ridiculous.’
