Louisa George - Enemies with Benefits

She looked across the wooden floor to the dark hole under the TV and tingly mingled with fear. Although she had to admit she did feel a lot better with Isaac in the flat. ‘Just you, me and our furry friend, of course … plus his babies, wife, mother, grandparents, probably a community the size of a small tropical nation living in the rafters, the walls … under my bed.’

‘I’ll get a trap tomorrow from the hardware stall at the market and have a word with the café and let them know we have guests. They’ll need to know for their own health and safety measures.’

‘Oh, I don’t want it hurt, or dead. I just want it gone. Out of here.’

‘Like me? Right.’

Got it in one. She couldn’t hide the smile. ‘You can stay if you can keep the rodent population to a minimum. Humanely. Yes. Yes. The mice. Do things … with them.’ Was she rambling a little?

‘Is that all I’m good for, really?’

She could think of a few things—starting with that mouth. Her stomach joined her head in all kinds of woozy. Definitely too much alcohol on an empty stomach. ‘I’m sure you’re good for a lot of things, Isaac …’

‘I’ve never had any complaints.’ He stood up, the flash of cheekiness gone. She wondered how it would be to really flirt with him, just a little. But then she didn’t know how. He brushed down his T-shirt and strode towards his bag.

There was something she was supposed to ask him. She couldn’t remember … Something about work or Christmas … Her head was getting foggy … Oh, yes … She held up a finger. ‘Wait. One thing.’

He stopped and turned, the bag still in his hand. ‘Yes?’

‘I have a problem.’

Smug eyebrows peaked. ‘Oh? Just the one?’

‘Don’t be cheeky. I’m organising the department Christmas party and the venue has double-booked us. Any chance Blue could fit us in? I’m in a bit of a pickle because I’m organising the party …’ Had she already said that? He might just save the day. She put her hand on one hip and flashed him her best winning smile. ‘Pretty please?’

It appeared to have little effect apart from the eyebrows rising further. ‘Now you’re just being nice because you want something. Poppy, Poppy, should I charge you double rates, too? What night?’

‘Next Friday.’

‘I’ll check the diary tomorrow. Shouldn’t be a problem, though. That’s early for a Christmas party.’

‘Things tend to hot up the closer we get to Christmas. Everyone wants a Christmas baby so they either try to hold on … or try to get it out early. We want to get the party out of the way so we can focus.’ Focusing was a bit of a problem right now, but she figured she’d be fine by Christmas.

‘So you’re working over Christmas? Not going home?’

She snorted at the thought. ‘You’re joking, right? I offered to work Christmas Day so the staff with families that actually cared for each other could spend time together. That way I have a good excuse to stay away from the family pile. So do me a favour and make sure my work Christmas party’s a good one? I want at least one thing to look forward to this festive season.’ Give me a good time, Isaac?

Geez, she was funny.

‘Okay, I’ll see what I can do. And now, I’m definitely going to bed.’ He turned again, his back straight, shoulders solid and that backside giftwrapped in jeans, all tight and firm and … her mouth watered.

What in hell was she thinking?

She watched him reach the door and felt an overwhelming desire to talk to him just a little more. She didn’t want to be on her own. And for some reason she felt a tingling down low and a need to … to what?

She hadn’t been able to think about sex for so long and now … well, right now she was thinking about it a lot. And not just because she was on the obstetrics and gynaecology rotation, although if that job taught her anything it was that women were either doing it a lot or not able to do it and wanting her to fix problems so they could do it some more.

But she deserved a little fun—and some much needed sexperience—maybe Isaac would know how she could find some. ‘Hey, Isaac, wait.’

‘What now?’

‘You have fun, right?’

She couldn’t read his expression as he turned to face her. Something between grumpy and irritated. And downright insanely sexy. ‘Sure. I work hard so I figure I should play hard, too.’

‘That’s it … that’s just it, right there. I’ve worked so hard for so long and I just want … more. Is there more? What more is there? What am I missing? How do you … you know, have fun without getting messed up in the process? Do you understand?’ She wasn’t sure she did. Not a lot of anything made sense right now. Except that Isaac had come closer and was looking at her with those bluest of blue eyes—okay, he was a little out of focus … And she wanted to stroke his hair. No, she wanted to breathe in his smell. It was smoky, very masculine. Yummy. She wanted to breathe him in and stroke his hair. ‘Is there more, Isaac?’

‘Oh. Okay, I see, we’re at stage three already.’ He disappeared into the kitchen and brought back a pint glass filled with water. ‘Drink this.’

She took a sip. He pushed it back towards her mouth and she drank a whole lot more; it was refreshing but nowhere near as nice as the Shiraz. ‘Stage three of what?’

‘It goes like this. The tipsy stage. The funny stage. The “pondering the universe” stage. Then, the “I love you, you’re my bestest ever friend” stage. And finally, the upchuck. We see it all the time at work and, trust me, you do not want to get to stage five.’

She put the glass down on the coffee table. ‘I am so not at any stage.’

‘Walk in a straight line, then, preferably towards your bedroom to sleep the alcohol off.’

She doubted she could stand in a straight line. ‘I don’t have to. I’m fine, thank you very much. Very fine indeedy.’

He held her gaze. A challenge. The heat in his eyes was flecked with serious. So nice. So very, very nice.

And very, very Isaac. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll walk.’ Oh, yes, she could do that. She could do that perfectly; show Isaac Blair she wasn’t afraid of any challenge from him.

STAGE THREE. WITHOUT a doubt things could well get messy. After spending hours dealing with this kind of stuff at work Isaac really did not need it at home, too, but he took Poppy’s hand and pulled her up from the chair. For the second time that night she bumped against him and he steadied her, feeling the softness of her body as she leaned into him. Cute that she wore old-fashioned pyjamas to bed, but with Poppy’s slightly restrained approach to life it wasn’t surprising.

The way she felt was, though. She had curves where curves should very definitely be and right now, pressed against him, they certainly chased away the London winter chill.

Hell, she’d grown up. A lot. And even though he’d caught up with her over the years he hadn’t really looked at her. Hadn’t wanted to—and she clearly hadn’t wanted anything to do with him either. Not since the night he’d held her thick dark hair while she vomited into a rose bush and cried for a man who wasn’t him. ‘Hey, careful.’

‘Oops. Sorry.’ She looked up at him through a fringe that grazed long black eyelashes and something flashed behind her deep brown eyes. Caution. Poppy’s normal mojo. She’d trodden a safe, sensible path for the last however many years—never letting herself get out of control, always steadily working towards her career goal. But there was something else in those eyes, too—something glittering—need? Lust?

First time he’d seen her let her guard down in for ever. Amazing what a bit of wine could do.