Page 63 of Jessica Beam is a Hot Mess
I tuck a non-existent strand of hair behind my ear and bite my bottom lip. ‘Would youlikemy telephone number, Mr Frost?’
He blinks in a mildly startled manner, then looks at me with interest, eyes travelling slowly over my body, pausing at my boobs and finally resting on my face. Ew. I try to hide my disgusted squirm.
He hands me his phone with narrowed eyes as if he’s not quite sure why he’s doing so. ‘OK. Put it in, then, Lucille,’ he says. ‘I’ll call you sometime.’
‘Wonderful! I’ll look forward to that,’ I giggle. It’s a real drippy, tittering giggle. I hate it.
He gives me a wide grin, showing off straight white teeth with a tiny gap between the front two. I will admit that, as grins go, Leo’s is an impressive one. I can sort of see how so many less knowing and far more foolish women could maybe get a bit lusty for it.
I type in my number, gazing up at him serenely.
Leo Frost, you are going to get sooo played.
