Free Fall Into Love (Simone: Part One Naughty Nookie Series) by Serena Akeroyd Page B

brows
that make him look all the more grim.  I want to ask Marina
when grim became an attractive quality, because if anyone knows,
it’s Marina.  Or maybe grim isn’t the right adjective. 
Maybe brooding is, and I’ve been a sucker for that ever since
English Lit. Class when I fell in love
with Heathcliff. 
    Once upon a time, I even made the mistake of
describing my ex as that.  When really, he’d been a lazy SOB
with the personality of a mosquito. 
    “ Are you okay, ma’am?” the
man, my nightclub Heathcliff, shouts as he bends toward me so I can
hear him better. 
    As he moves, his aftershave permeates the
air around me and as the cleansing tang of sandalwood and lime
tinges my personal space, the heat of his body seems to augment the
scent and simultaneously make my own temperature surge. 
    Swallowing, I straighten my back so I can
move closer to his ear; either that or I use that excuse to get a
teeny weeny bit closer to him… only God knows which, because I’m
not up to self-analysis at the moment!  For the first time in
a long while, I’m interested in someone of the opposite sex. 
Interest combined with an adrenaline rush from the almost accident
has me doing something unheard of; proffering an invitation. 
“I’m fine.  Thanks to you.  Can I buy you a drink as a
thank you?”
    Even knowing I’m gushing doesn’t hold me
back.  This so isn’t me.  I never do anything like this
and I’m fully aware of Eddie and Marina flicking each other
surprised looks. 
    One time, I managed to lodge my heel in
between a piece of decking at a garden party.  A man had
kindly helped me and I’d turned redder than a beet, mumbled my
thanks and disappeared as quickly as I could.  At no point of
that embarrassing interlude had I asked the man if he’d like a
drink!  
    Now, I could be termed as superficial at
this juncture.  But my previous savior hadn’t been too hard on
the eyes.  Not the same as this man here, but nothing to sniff
at. 
    Heathcliff frowns at me–not quite the
response I’d hoped for–and says, “That isn’t necessary, ma’am.”
    I’ve never been known for my courage; but I
urge all of my gumption together and reach forward to grab his
hand.  “Please.  I’d like to thank you properly.”
    Rather than reply he nods and, beaming at
him, I turn and grab my purse, widening my eyes, fluttering the
lashes to indicate my excitement at my two friends.  I might
have looked insane, but I don’t give a damn.  Marina and Eddie
seem to understand the message.  Their grins are so wide they
might as well be Cheshire cats. 
    Scuttling off the
barstool, I beam another smile at him as he automatically reaches
for my arm to help me down.  Maybe this is Heathcliff come to life?
 I’d thought chivalry was dead.  Apparently not, if this
guy is anything to go by.
    He lets me walk in front
of him and I’m conscious of every movement, every sway of my hips.
It’s as if I’m in the center of a spotlight and all eyes are on
me.  But in this case, only one set matters.
    Instant attraction has never been my
thing.  I’ve never felt that click of chemistry that my
friends gush about.  Never felt on fire for somebody before,
not even my ex.  But this, this is different.  I don’t
understand it, certainly can’t explain it, but boy, this feels
electric. 
    My blood is pumping through my veins at a
mile a minute.  I feel alive.  Vibrant with energy and
it’s all for this stranger. 
    Crazy.
    Working my way over to the
bar, I can feel the brush of him at my back.  The club’s
packed.  People litter every inch.  Not quiet people,
either.  Not like the sort at a cheese and wine party. 
But the kind who are quite happy to jump up and down to a beat I
can’t understand; one that doesn’t get me going.  Prior to
meeting this man, I was bored, restless and wanting, no, waiting , to go home. 
    Now, home is the last thing on my
mind.  He’s taken center stage.
    We reach the bar