She’d bet t
his man had plenty. For one thing, he didn’t like women. The things he’d said to her on the plane… The way he’d curled his lip at her shoes… She’d seen the way he’d looked at them. He had no idea how secure these shoes made her feel. She stamped one of them, because he was making her wait deliberately.
‘Open the boot, would you?’
He looked her up and down. She wasn’t going to apologise for her rudeness. He needed to know she was onto him.
All the same, she took a shuffling step backwards.
She drew herself up, happily over six feet in her shoes, but still gallingly forced to tip up her chin to look him in the eye.
With a half-smile, as if he knew what she was doing, he unlocked the boot, and Lulu was mollified—and a little relieved—when without a word he began hauling her luggage inside.
He handled the matching powder-blue cases as if they weighed nothing. The problem was he was tossing them into the boot as if he was shifting hay bales.
Lulu made a sound of dismay, but from the look he gave her she was a little afraid he might haul her in there too if she said something.
It was only when he looked about to launch her carpet bag after the cases that she jumped and threw herself bodily in front of him to prevent certain shattering.
‘Doux Jésus, stop!’
He held off, but the look on his face told her he was unimpressed—which was pretty rich, given he was the one destroying her property!
‘It contains the crystal I’ve brought as a wedding gift. For Gigi—and Khaled,’ she added, grudgingly.
‘Crystal?’
‘Goblets…tableware. Crystal.’
He continued to stare at her, as if she’d announced she was giving them a horse and cart.
Lulu inhaled a breath. She held out her arms. ‘Give that to me.’
He complied, but she wasn’t expecting him to step right up to her. She was suddenly more aware of him than ever, and inhaled his aftershave—something woodsy that mingled with the scent of his own skin. It was attractively male in a way she wasn’t used to.
Confused and flustered, Lulu looked up.
She encountered his firm chin and the sensuous line of his mouth, which only made her feel more unsettled.
He had a faint frown on his face and she suspected she mirrored it.
She turned her back on him to lodge the bag carefully between two cases to prevent it being bounced around.
Rude, ignorant, appalling, macho jerk.
He waited until she’d stepped back to lower the boot. She waited patiently by the passenger door with her umbrella. But he abruptly headed for the driver’s side of the car.
‘The “macho jerk” wants you to get in the car,’ he said flatly as he yanked open his door.
Lulu realised two things in that moment. One, she’d spoken her thoughts aloud, and, two, he wasn’t going to open her door.
Given he had all her luggage now locked up inside his car, she didn’t have much choice, but she cursed herself for her weakness. She should have waited for a cab.
As if to remind her why she’d made her choice, the rain began to pelt harder.
Why is this happening to me?
She closed her umbrella and opened the door herself.