Page 2 of Chasing his Ex

I try to swallow a lump in my throat, but it refuses to budge. “Finn.”

“You work here?”

I nod. Here, is one of the largest high-rise buildings in London with too many companies for me to remember.

“How are you?” I ask, prickles of nervous tension pop over my skin.

Or possibly sexual tension.

Straightening myself up, while trying to calm my raging hormones down—hormones that have gone into a dizzy fight, as mind memory remembers the same masculine scent.

His gaze lowers from my face and down my body. I’m wearing a slim fitting pantsuit and spaghetti strapped top.

After the way we ended, there’s no way he’s looking at me like he’s thinking about sliding his hands on my cheeks and kissing me like he used to.

Maybe around your neck, Ava.

“Ava,” a voice calls from a distance.

Abruptly, Finn releases me, his hands clenched as though he still feels the hurt I gave him, or maybe it’s stopping his hands from hurting me.

I pick my jacket up from the floor, where it fell after my graceless exit, then I glance to my right, seeing Jameson giving me a slow nod and a lift of an eyebrow.

Jameson and I are friends, and honestly, I like the attention he gives me, but we aren’t right for each other, he’s not long out of marriage and me ... I no longer want anything more than what he’s prepared to give me.

My life is too awkward and busy to add in more complications. But a coffee with a handsome, older man is welcome.

Jameson admitted he wants an open relationship, but as I don’t do open relationships, I only offered him friendship. It’s enough for me, and I’m happy about the arrangement. He can have his casual liaisons with others.

It’s supposed to be a win-win situation.

But I also know things are changing. Jameson is getting more attentive. I know he wants more than I’m going to give him.

He narrows his eyes at me, because I’m not making a quick move to where he is, as I usually do. Jameson is dominant, but I’m not a submissive. It would never work between us, regardless.

I hold a finger up to him, another move he doesn’t appear to like.

And when I look back at Finn, the muscles running along his jaw tighten and flex. “Nice to see you, Finn. You’re looking good.”

Good?

Gorgeous, sexy ... but good?

I want to move to Jameson, but it’s as though Finn is magnetic. His pull a force I struggle to overcome. That’s no different from before now. Even the night our relationship crashed around us, I still wanted him—and wanted him to want me.

His voice comes out ragged. “How are you?”

“I’m fine … good,” I breathe. “I’ll let you get on with your day.” I want to say much more, but Jameson’s eyes are burning a hole in the side of my face. “Nice to see you, Finn.”

He smiles. “You too.”

I turn and stride quickly to Jameson. When I get to him, he takes my hand and pulls me to him, kissing my cheek. A public display of affection that he doesn’t do. We don’t have that kind of relationship.

Jameson is American and the CEO of a finance company. We met over a coffee on our lunch break just over three months ago. He’s a divorcee, not looking for a relationship, and wasn’t looking for anything either. But we meet for lunch or coffee, just like friends. My work life and personal life don’t leave me with much time for a lover, but after a few meet ups, Jameson and I came to a mutual agreement.

We still meet for coffee, sometimes dinner, but nothing sexual. What we have is a companion type of arrangement.

“You look nice,” I say. His sharp, expensive navy suit follows every edge of his tall body, from his broad shoulders to a trim waist to his thick thighs.

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