I notice you didn’t deny it. You should know the feeling’s mutual. Jx

I look up, settling back in my seat, waiting for a response. I’m kidding myself. She won’t reply. And there I’ve learned something about the lovely Miss O’Shea.

She’s stubborn as fuck.

I sit bolt upright when the door of her offices open, and lose my fucking breath when she appears. Jesus good fucking Lord. Just look at her. Sheer perfection. Her black trousers skim her dainty ankles, her cream blouse tucked in, showcasing her small waist. I look down at my hands. They’d circle it, easy. Her hair is down. It’s longer than I thought.

I push my palm into my chest, my heart clattering. Tingles. Everywhere.

She swings her bag onto her shoulder and walks toward the end of the street, and I’m out of my car before I’ve registered I’ve even moved, my eyes stuck to her back.

“Your ticket, sir,” the traffic warden says, and I blindly grab it, throwing it on the driver’s seat.

“Thanks.” I shut the door and follow her. It’s impulsive, my brain working without thinking, my body more than willing to obey my brain. Just try to fucking stop me.

I jog across the road and round the corner, slowing when I see her up ahead. Her long, dark hair bounces across her back as she walks, the sway of her hips like magnets for my eyes. My big body feels restrained in my suit, in the groin area the most. I see her dip into a bar, and I come to a stop outside, wondering . . . what now?

I look at my reflection in the window. Straighten my tie. Brush down the lapels of my jacket. Run my hand through my hair. I look good, better than I did on Friday, and she struggled terribly to contain her awe then. So today? She’s doomed.

I just need to pick up my feet, get my arse inside this bar, and knock her back with my smile. Kill her doubt with a swift reminder of our electric connection.

Yet ten minutes later, I’m still hovering outside, conflicted. She’ll think I’m a nutcase, if she doesn’t already. But . . . Just a chance encounter, that’s all. I laugh to myself. I’m fucking deluded.

I push my way in, spotting her immediately at a table with a redhead. My eyes naturally fall to the glass of wine before her. Drinking on the job? I’m not sure how I feel about that. Or her drinking at all, actually. Alcohol makes you vulnerable. An easy target. It has you making stupid choices.