Page 8 of Hard Lessons

A flip of anticipation caught in her belly.

David Watson.

It was him. She knew it instantly.

Compared to the other patrons he had boyish good looks, a straight nose, a twinkle in his eye, and a full head of hair. She’d guess he worked out too, or ran or cycled or something, no bloated belly or red jowls going on. Though if liquid lunches were his thing, it was likely only a matter of time.

“Whiskey in the afternoon, I like your style.” She smiled.

David turned. His eyes widened at little. “Er... yes. It’s been a long week.” He laughed softly.

“Tell me about it.” She lifted her drink to her mouth and took a sip. She didn’t break eye contact.

“What do you do?” he asked, signing a slip of paper the bartender placed before him. He obviously ran an account here.

“I run a fashion company, in Rome. I’m in London on business, meetings, you know, boring stuff.”

He let his gaze trail down her body, roaming over the tight black material of her dress that hugged her curves. His attention settled on her cleavage, displayed generously and topped with a locket that sat on the first rise of her breasts. “You clearly know a thing or two about fashion even if you find the meetings boring. You look amazing.”

Is there a slight slur to his words?

“I like to think so. Fashion has been my life.” She licked her lips.

His breath was already thick with alcohol. He’d been on the stuff for a while.

Good.

“And everyone needs to wear clothes, right,” she added, with a giggle. She flicked her hair over her shoulders and jutted her chest forward. “It’s never going to be out of fashion to have fashion.”

“Ah, I will agree with you to a point.” He sipped his drink. “But there are times clothes are not necessary.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What are you suggesting?” She leaned forward. To a distance that invaded his personal space.

“I’m not suggesting anything.” He didn’t move away. “I’m merely stating that there is fun to be had without clothes.”

She kept her face hovering near his. “Well, aren’t you a nice find in this dull place.”

“I could say the same.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Could you now?”

“Mmm. That Friday feeling is just about to hit.” His pupils were wide. Hope glowed from them. He took another gulp of his whiskey.

I’ll give him a bit more hope.

“I’d say it has hit.” Enjoying the power she held over this man she’d just met, Serena leaned forward and kissed his cheek. At the same time she ran her fingertips through his hair, just above his right ear. It was a seductive, teasing gesture that she hoped would go straight to his cock.

“Ah, yeah, Friday feeling loaded and ready,” he murmured.

She pulled back a little and smiled—a smile that said she was a dead certain. Whatever he was thinking about, she was thinking the same thing.

She glanced at Luca. His phone was held forward. He’d got the shot. But fuck, his face was like thunder.

Serena sat back again and twirled the stem of her glass, willing her heart to slow; it had suddenly picked up a notch.

Luca really didn’t like that kiss.

Tough, you’re doing your job, Serena. He’ll have to cope with it.

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