Page 19 of Enemies to Lovers

‘Flo,’ he says, in his low growl. My lips part. I don’t know why, but I seem to be struggling to get air into my lungs.

‘Yes?’ I respond. My voice comes out as less than a whisper, my mouth as dry as it has ever been. I guess I’m not used to waiting for forgiveness. I glance up, waiting to see if it will come.

Jamie looks at my lips. If it was anybody else, that look would be enough to make a thousand butterflies take flight in the very lowest part of my pelvis. But this is Jamie, so that doesn’t happen. I simply feel confused. This dude isintense.

‘Like I said the other morning,’ he murmurs, still looking at my mouth. I think he’s trying to one-up me. ‘I feel very lucky to have been invited here. I’m sorry you don’t like me. I assumed, for me to get the invite in the first place, you must have given your blessing. If I somehow got that wrong … well, there’s not much I can do. But I really am sorry if my being here has ruined your holiday.’

I open my mouth to object and he actually has the audacity to hold up a finger to my lips.

‘I’m allergic to bullshit,’ he tells me. ‘So don’t. I came up here to tell you that I’ll stay out of your way. I’ll hang out with Laurie and catch up with him, and I’ll leave you alone. I appreciate that’s what you want.’

I nod and he moves his finger away slowly.

‘You came to find me in the shower, to tell me you’re going to stay out of my way?’ I ask, eyes narrowed.

His pupils dilate as he searches my face for something. We’re so close I can see the smattering of freckles across his nose. All this time I thought he had blue eyes, but they’re not blue, they’re grey. A very, very light grey.

‘Anyway,’ he says, shaking me out of my thoughts, ‘you don’t like me, either. You called me a farthead. So.’

‘Well,’ I say. ‘That I’mnotsorry about …’

‘It’s a very retro insult,’ he presses on. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been called a farthead before.’

‘I’ve called you that behind your back for years,’ I bat back, but before he can reply, a voice speaks.

‘Oh!’

Jamie steps back and clears his throat like we’ve been caught. But caught doing what – talking? Tentatively finding less inflammatory ground? It’s Dad, and he fills the doorway and looks between us like he’s on the verge of asking if he’s interrupting, before deciding against it.

‘I didn’t realise you weren’t dressed,’ Dad says, but whether he means me or the half-naked Jamie opposite me, I can’t tell.

‘I didn’t realise she was using the shower,’ Jamie says. ‘Sorry, Flo.’

He motions to Dad that he needs to slip by. Dad moves, but keeps addressing us both.

‘Two birds with one stone, actually,’ he says. ‘Kate has booked us all surprise massages! There are two masseurs downstairs, who are going to pummel everyone in the family into heavenly oblivion. Isn’t that fun?And the plumbers have arrived, to make sure we don’t get any more leaks.’

Jamie has his back to me, his hands on the banister that runs in a horseshoe shape to make a balcony over the stairs. He half turns to Dad and says, ‘Oh, great. I’ll be right there.’

‘Flo, you too,’ says Dad. ‘You’re up first, I think.’

Jamie still lingers, even after Dad heads back downstairs, and so I say to his back, once we’re out of earshot, ‘Was there anything else you wanted?’

‘No,’ Jamie replies, barely looking back. He drops his chin to his chest and takes a massive breath, his girthy shoulders rising dramatically and then falling, like he’s releasing anything further he might say into the ether, instead of allowing it to form words. ‘That was all.’

6

I head down to the pool and am confronted by the most attractive man I have ever – and I truly meanever– seen: tall, lithe, skin the colour of a Mediterranean childhood … and, unfortunately, a man-bun. I recognise that no man can have it all, though, and nor should he. This fella has more than enough, even with the terrible hair. Whoa!

‘Hello,’ he says, holding out a hand, a smile wide and true across his face. His accent betrays his roots. He must be local. ‘My name is Adonis. I think you are Flo?’

Adonis.The Greek god of a man is called ADONIS? Hope is going tolovethis. He is currently taking the saying ‘If the shoe fits’ to a whole new level. Maybe I’m ovulating. That’s what they say, isn’t it? That in the middle of your cycle you fancy people more, and are more fanciable yourself? The way Adonis (Adonis!I still need a minute to get over that name) is still shaking my hand and grinning at me makes me think that I am indeed a tiny bit fanciable. He’s … appraising me. Openly. And I know I’m not supposed to enjoy being leered at, but it’s so straightforward of him that I admire the gumption. My smile widens under his attention. It’slike the second we shook hands he flicked a switch in me, from ‘off’ to ‘definitely on’. Every fibre of my being has come alive.

‘My friend Clio will be helping you today,’ Adonis says, gesturing to a woman I hadn’t clocked before: she’s older, with a grey plait and ruddy cheeks, and strong-looking hands. Exactly as I imagine a great masseuse looks, to be fair. ‘But I hope we can meet again later.’ He flashes another smile, and it feels so strange to be so freely awarded attention – and, what’s more, to be reacting to it. It’s nice. It makes me feel … well, sexy, to be honest. My cheeks flush, but I don’t feel embarrassed by the desire in his gaze, not with my ‘on’ switch. I don’t think that has ever happened to me before in my life, this level of being-hit-upon. I don’t question it. Adonis has zeroed in on me like a heat-seeking missile and, just like that, I’m open to it. This is so weird!

‘Sure,’ I say, giving him a winning smile of my own. ‘Have fun …’

Adonis laughs. ‘Yes,’ he says, although what I said didn’t even make proper sense and really wasn’t funny. I don’t think that matters when you’re flirting. It’s fun to be saying words at each other. When did I lastflirt? I mean, probably last Christmas, but let’s not go there. I’m not going to over-think this. ‘But not too much, huh?’

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