‘Chill, Coco, I’ll be fine. Jackson will sort me out, won’t you?’
Jackson’s response is to choke on his champagne and I cringe inwardly—how bloody suggestive!
‘What I mean is, he’ll get me a taxi.’
‘Of course.’ He nods. ‘Taxi. No probs.’
‘See, all fine. Now, go!’
‘Really?’ Coco says, looking at me while Ash nuzzles into her neck and I can’t help laughing.
‘Yes, seriously, go! Before you end up staying here and putting on a performance for the clientele. Unless that’s what you’re going for...’
‘Hell, no!’ That wakes Ash up and he’s already ushering his Mrs Claus out of the booth.
‘Call me, yeah?’ Coco says.
‘Sure.’
We watch them go, neither of us saying a word, and I cough to clear my throat, to force back the thrumming fizzle of heat that is so determined to ignite around Mr Grinch.
‘We should talk,’ he says, and I know he’s turned to look at me but he’s too close like this and I don’t trust my body not to climb him like a man mountain.
A man mountain...
I giggle again, sobering when I remember that talk is exactly what we should be doing. ‘Yes, talk, we must.’
‘Okay, Yoda, you sure you want to talk now? Maybe we should leave it for another day.’
‘Nope.’ I waggle a finger at him. ‘You’re not running away from this again.’
‘I’m not running, Caitlin.’ His eyes stare into mine, all warm and yummy and caring. ‘I mean when you’re not...’ He waves a hand at me but all I can think is that those eyes are definitely telling me I’m cute, really cute, and the warm fuzzies are getting out of hand. ‘Cait?’
‘Hmm?’
‘Are you...?’ He’s frowning, definitely frowning, and aw, he gets a little dimple in his cheek when he frowns. How have I not seen that before? Wait, there’s two, no...three of them! There’s even three Jacksons...
‘Are you feeling okay, Cait?’
‘The room is kind of spinny...’ Ooh, talking is not good. Not good at all, in fact. ‘I think... I think I might be sick.’
He curses, or at least I think he does, but it’s taking all my effort not to be ill.
‘You can’t get in a car like this.’
‘I’ll be...’ I swallow ‘...fine.’
‘I’m not leaving you.’
‘How novel of you...’ I mumble. ‘Shame you didn’t think that way four months ago.’
I say it super-fast and he tenses up, his mouth a hard line as he rises, but I’m glad I said it. Even if it has made my stomach roll more and I zip my mouth tight as I let him help me out of the booth.
‘You can stay at mine tonight.’
My eyes flick to his, wide. ‘Hell, no.’
‘Hell, yes. I’m not letting you out of my sight.’ He sounds angry. Oh, dear. Angry but protective, and I like the latter...really, really like it. ‘Pippa, can you give me a hand?’