Down London Road

in his jaw flex along with his biceps as he crossed his arms over his chest.
    I had a feeling it was just pure muscle underneath his shirt.
    He gave me no verbal answer, but with body language like that I didn’t need one.
    ‘Then I’ll ask.’
    Without a word of gratitude – not even a nod – Cam turned away and I felt the tension begin to drain out of me. Then, as he stopped and slowly turned back, the tension built up again, as though someone had stuck a plug in my sink.
    Although Cam’s lips weren’t full, the upper lip had a soft, expressive curve to it, giving him this perpetually sexy curl. That expressiveness seemed to vanish whenever he directed dialogue my way. His lips thinned. ‘Malcolm is a good guy.’
    My pulse picked up speed, having had enough experience of people’s perception of me to know where this was going. I just didn’t want it to be going there with this guy. ‘Aye, he is.’
    ‘Does he know you’re seeing someone behind his back?’
    Okay … I hadn’t expected it to be going
there
. I found myself mirroring him, my arms crossing over my chest defensively. ‘Excuse me?’
    He smirked, his eyes running the length of me for the fifteenth time. I saw a flicker of interest he couldn’t quite hide, but I guessed his disgust for me overruled any masculine appreciation for my body. His eyes were hard when they met mine. ‘Look, I know your type well. I grew up watching a parade of gorgeous bimbos walk in and out of my uncle’s life. They took what they could and then fucked around on him behind his back. He didn’t deserve that, and Malcolm doesn’t deserve some empty-headed footballer’s-wife-wannabe who thinks that texting on her phone during an adult conversation is socially acceptable or that planning to meet up with another man tomorrow while her boyfriend is standing across the room isn’t morally and emotionally bankrupt.’
    I tried to ignore the twist in my gut at his unwarranted assault. For some reason this asshole’s words penetrated. However, instead of waking up the shame that only I knew existed within me, his words ignited my outrage. Usually, I swallowed my irritation and anger at people, but for some reason my voice wouldn’t listen to my brain. It wanted to spit his words right back at him. I was determined, however, not to approach him in the ‘empty-headed’ manner he expected.
    I frowned at him instead. ‘What happened to your uncle?’
    At the darkening of Cam’s face, I braced myself formore insult. ‘Married a version of you. She took him for everything. He’s now divorced and in debt up to his eyeballs.’
    ‘So that would explain why you think it’s okay to judge me? A person you don’t even know.’
    ‘I don’t need to know you, sweetheart. You’re a walking cliché.’
    Feeling the anger boil, I reined it in and turned it down so it simmered carefully, taking a step toward him as I laughed softly, humourlessly. As our bodies closed in on each other, I tried and failed to ignore the crackling of electricity between us. I felt my nipples harden unexpectedly and was glad for the placement of my arms over my chest so he wouldn’t see. He inhaled sharply at my closeness, his look searing, and I felt it like pressure between my legs.
    Ignoring the absurd sexual attraction between us, I glowered. ‘Well, I guess that makes us a pair. I’m a brainless, morally corrupt, money-grabbing bimbo and you’re a jumped-up, pretentious, artsy-fartsy know-it-all dickhead.’ Fighting to cover the trembling coursing through me – a reaction to the adrenaline spiked by my actually standing up for myself for once – I took a step back, satisfied at the flare of surprise in his eyes. ‘See, I can judge a book by its cover too.’
    Not leaving him a chance to make a smart-ass retort, I put a swing into my hips to overcome the trembling, and sashayed across the gallery and around the wall until I found my boyfriend. Becca had been monopolizing Malcolm’s time for too long. I sidled up to him, sliding my hand along his back and dangerously close to his deliciousbottom. His attention was immediately wrenched from Becca as he stared into my now glittering eyes.
    I licked my lips provocatively. ‘I’m bored, babe. Let’s go.’
    Ignoring Becca’s huff of annoyance, Malcolm congratulated her once more on a great show, and then ushered me out of there, eager to receive the promise in my eyes.
    Malcolm groaned in my ear, his hips moving against mine in