Highly Strung (Food Of Love 1)

“Ah.” Milan turned round and sent a beaming smile in her direction, a deadly weapon in the armoury of seduction. “Good girl.”

Lydia almost growled.

He took the packet and stowed it in a jacket pocket before turning back to her.

“My change?”

Lydia’s fist closed around the few coins.

“Don’t I get commission?” she found herself saying. “It’s cold out there. And wet.”

Milan raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to one side in curious scrutiny. Lydia wished she looked a little less like a drowned rat crossed with a fishwife, but she held her ground.

“Commission, huh? Okay.”

He made his friends shift up the bench until a small space became available beside him, then he patted the cushion.

“Sit down. I buy you a drink.”

“No, I didn’t mean…”

The roguish glint in his eye stripped the steel plating from her resolve. Milan Kaspar offered to buy me a drink. I could have a drink with Milan Kaspar.

“Come on. What do you like? Wine? Vodka? I’ll buy it for you. As a thank you.”

The steel plating was gone and now the core was melting. The curve of his lips, the way the smile accentuated his cheekbones, the lock of hair falling in one eye…

“Lydia!”

It was Vanessa, a long way behind, hissing to her, waving her gloved hand furiously.

“No. Thank you,” she said, dropping the coins on the table.

Milan raised a hand to cup his ear, as if straining to catch her words.

“What’s that I heard? It wasn’t a no, was it?”

“Yes.”

“Yes? Then come and sit down.”

“I mean yes, it was a no.” Lydia’s voice grew shrill and flustered. “No!”

“You’re frozen,” crooned Milan, reaching out and taking one of her icy hands. “Che gelida manina! Come and get warm, milácku.”

Lydia’s vigorous shake of the head transferred to the whole of her body. Her pelvis twisted in panic as she wrenched her hand out of his.

“I said no. I have to go,” she blurted, turning and half running while the going was good, hating herself for looking an idiot in front of her new colleagues, who were guffawing behind her.

“Oh, my God!” exclaimed Vanessa, hustli

ng her outside into the frozen wastes of Westminster. “You said no to Milan. Is that the sound of a mould breaking I can hear? Come on, let’s get to Starbucks. I’d kill for a mochaccino right now.”

“He called me something.” Lydia shivered. “Sounded like ‘milch cow’.”

“Heaven help you.” Vanessa held open the door of the coffee shop. “You’re next.”

Come and get warm, milácku.