Page 5 of Falling for Raine

“Forty-six.”

“Ahh, super old.”

“Bugger off.”

I snickered. “Did you just tell me to fuck off?”

“Well…yes.”

“Oooh! Now, see, that’s exactly what I need.”

He wrinkled his forehead in confusion. “Excuse me?”

I swallowed the last of my martini and leaned into his space. “Britishisms. Give me everything you got.”

“That’s a nebulous request. I’m not sure where to begin,” he said, his eyes glinting with humor.

I made a vague gesture. “Anywhere. I have to be able to communicate with my coworkers. I met one of them earlier, and he was a total jerk who?—”

“Wanker is British for jerk,” he intercepted.

“Love it.”

“You might also say he was a tosser. If he were a little dull on top of being a prick, you could call him a knob or a bell end, which roughly translates to dick head.”

“OMG! I gotta write these down.” I snickered merrily, summoning the bartender over with a wave. “Do you have a pen?”

The bartender pulled a pen from his apron and gestured at our not-quite empty glasses. “Another round?”

The stranger inclined his chin, setting his hand over mine when I asked him to repeat his list of insults. “There’s no need to tattoo yourself. This is googleable information.”

“Right.” I dropped the pen and narrowed my eyes with playful suspicion. “I should probably double-check to be sure you aren’t selling me a bag of goods. Like I said, you might be from Chattanooga and the whole accent thing could be a bar act. A basic means to get laid.”

“Basic?” He sputtered and coughed around the last of his drink, and thanked the bartender for the new one before fixing me with a faux glower. “Well, I assure you it wouldn’t occur to me to fake an accent.”

“I believe you. I’m Raine, by the way.” I smiled and extended my hand.

He flashed a crooked pirate’s grin and shook it. “Graham. Good to meet you. I think.”

“Nice to meet you too,” I stammered dreamily, still shaking his hand.

Shit.What happened to my cool?

Butterflies whirled in my chest as awareness zipped through my veins. I couldn’t tell if it was his touch, his cunning expression, or a combination of the two, but in that instant, I sensed I’d met someone special. It was in the slide of his palm, the firm squeeze of his fingers, and the wily tilt of his full lips. I had the sudden feeling of being pulled in by a magnet…or a spider web.

The lure to lean into the zip of electricity was strong. It was slightly dangerous and very intoxicating.

I played with the edge of the cocktail napkin under my martini glass and tried to think of where to steer the conversation. I didn’t care what Graham did for a living, and I definitely wasn’t interested in discussing my upcoming gig as a budding assistant to an assistant, so I went with the safe option and asked a gazillion questions about England.

Was it easy to navigate? Were the people nice? Silly stuff I could learn on my own. But this was good. Graham could do the talking while I got my libido under control.

Did I mention this man was fucking hot?

And nice too. He didn’t seem to mind playing tour guide from a barstool. I learned that London itself was the smallest city in England and was also called the Square Mile, but that Greater London was home to over eight million people. Graham drew a mini diagram of the financial district and the Thames on my cocktail napkin, and assured me I’d have no problems getting around on the Tube. I got lost easily so that probably wasn’t true, but I nodded and asked more questions to keep him talking.

Graham’s melodic voice got deeper and raspier as he spoke about topics he seemed to enjoy—like football, rugby, museums, and theater. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I didn’t know anything about sports, and that I wouldn’t be able to afford a theater ticket till I had a few paychecks under my belt, but Iloved art. He insisted I should go to the British Museum and chatted about important pieces there, like the Rosetta Stone.

I concentrated on the low rumble of his words as I snacked on bar nuts and sipped water, wisely pushing my third martini aside. I had no intention of flying with a hangover tomorrow. And honestly, I didn’t want to dull my senses and miss anything, even a weather update from this man.