Rare and Precious Things (The Blackstone Affair 4)

“Don’t you think you need to slow it down, Cherry?” he asked in his quiet way, managing to sound direct even though he spoke softly.

“Why should I? I’m not bothering anybody.” I gave him a thorough look and inhaled, catching a whiff of his manly scent that did more to hasten my drunkenness than the wine I kept pouring down my throat.

“That’s not true.”

“Why, whatever do you mean, Neil?” I stared and watched him for a reaction, my curiosity piqued.

“It bothers me seeing you unhappy and getting drunk at the bar. It bothers me a lot.” He narrowed his eyes a little and dragged those nearly black beauties back and forth in an effort to read me.

“What makes you think I’m unhappy?”

He swept a hand in front of me. “This is supposed to look like happiness?” He gave his head a shake and took a pull off his beer. “I don’t think so, Cherry.”

“I was waiting for Denny to show up and apologize,” I confessed, mimicking his hand gesture toward my own body, “but he’s probably off shagging the same twit from last time behind my back. Who am I kidding? These things happen.” I shrugged at Neil, hoping he was getting my veiled reference to his totally unsuitable girlfriend, Cora, loud and clear.

“You need to lose that fool. I don’t like him. Why even let him near you? You’re better than that piece of news, Cherry.”

“Don’t call me that anymore.” I pegged him with a hard look. “Why do you allow your piece of news near you?”

“Cora?” He looked surprised at my question, a slight smile reaching his mouth.

My stomach in knots, I grew reckless with my tongue and let it all out. “I can’t have the one I want, so I guess I settle for sloppy seconds and get pissed in the pub when even that doesn’t work out.” I let my ugly words sink in for a moment and then delivered the sucker punch. “Your turn, Neil.”

He stared at me then. His eyes moving slow and purposeful, like a caress. It was as if he was trying to bring more confessions out of me by force of will. It nearly worked too. His beautiful dark eyes held the power to make it happen when he looked at me like he was at that moment. Does he know how I feel about him? Has he always known? How could he not know?

Those soulful eyes just about managed to pull the dreaded trifecta of emotion from my lips—just, but not quite. I only thought the words in my head. I love you. I was drunk and he was right there with me, acting as if he really cared. I love you. And then, I was left with the unbelievable idea that Neil didn’t know. How could he be that unaware? How could he not know how I felt about him? I love YOU, you idiot man.

I’m guessing he truly didn’t know after all, because he didn’t take my bait.

“Cherry, I know all about what Cora’s been up—”

“—I said, don’t call me that anymore. I hate it now!” I spat angrily, signaling the bartender for a refill. I felt immediately guilty for lashing out at him, but it hurt too much to want him to see me as a woman instead of merely as a little sister who needed protecting.

Neil stood up and waved the bartender off, tossing down some notes to pay. “You’re done here. I’m taking you home.”

“Oh, you think so, do you?” I crossed my arms beneath my breasts and stared him down as best I could. I suddenly felt hot and more than a little dizzy.

His mouth quirked up at the side and then branched out into a cocky grin. “I know I’m taking you out of here, sweetheart.” He took me by the hand and pulled.

“No, Neil!” I dug my feet in and balked against the force of him. It wasn’t easy resisting his size and strength. I think inappropriate things at terrible times and was suddenly desperate to know what he would feel like on top of me. He was huge and I was on the small side. Would he swallow me up with his big body? I’d be very willing to find out, of that I was certain.

His eyes flared at me when he turned back to stare. If I wasn’t mistaken, Neil was really looking at me for once. He swallowed hard, making his Adam’s apple slide along his throat. I wished I could put my lips on his throat and keep them there. I was annoyed with him and secretly intrigued by his attentions at the same time. Hell, he was so damned gorgeous.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re spitting mad, Cherry.” He emphasized his nickname for me with a confident smirk, his eyes owning me. “Beautiful and utterly perfect.”

You’re utterly perfect…

I’d heard him say those words about me before. I wondered…was it even possible for him to believe such a thing? No way, right?

“You’re beautiful too, but you’re being an immensely arrogant arsehole right now.”

“Is that so?” He leaned forward just a bit, putting himself into my space.

I hiccupped and nodded, feeling dizzier than I had moments before, instantly intimidated.

“You’re out in the pub at night pissing drunk.” His jaw ticked. “I’m not leaving you here, Cherry.”

God damn, he said it again, and I just lost it. “And, I told you not to call me that anymore!” I took a step, stumbled on the chair rail, right into his hard chest. He steadied me against him and I had to resist the urge to bury my face in his shirt. It was damn hard not to. I really needed my nose buried in his shirt so I could memorize his scent.