Page 2 of Hit For Six (Balls and Banter #1)

She didn’t need to look at him to know that he was wearing the cockiest of grins as he continued to check out her assets.

Lola willed herself to ignore him. If she turned the other cheek and got back to chatting to Harry, he’d soon get bored.

She was about to do just that, but the bald portly man seated behind her CEO suddenly tapped him on the shoulder in recognition and the two of them traded animated back slaps, falling into middle-aged male banter as they caught up on one another’s recent shenanigans.

Julian whistled like a car salesman who was about to break some unfortunate news:

‘You’re looking a little red on the shoulders there, honey,’ he crooned, well aware that the hard-of-hearing-in-his-left-ear Harry wouldn’t pick up on his sleaze. ‘Lucky for you, I’ve got some sun cream… and I’ve been told that I have a seriously smooth application technique.’

Lola balled her hand into a fist.

‘I put on my factor 50 this morning, but thanks for your concern.’

The thought of Julian moving an inch closer to her body made her want to throw up.

‘Suit yourself. You don’t know what you’re missing,’ his voice was tinged with irritation. ‘I stroke ever so nicely. Like a masseuse ,’ he hissed the latter word, elongating the letters as if they were yearning to touch her.

Lola refused to flinch. She would not let him know that he’d got to her.

‘I said no, Julian. That’s it. Period.’

She took another sip of her drink, somehow managing to keep her hand from shaking.

‘Oh, lighten up, Lola for Christ’s sake,’ came Julian’s indignant reply several seconds later, as if he’d struggled to digest the sting of her rejection.

‘Don’t take everything so seriously. You really should try smiling a bit more.

Obviously it was a joke.’ Now he was sounding even more unhinged, practically singing his words.

‘Or is your monthly making you extra emotional?’

Lola needed to channel the indifferent Anne of Cleeves from SIX.

Not that romance was ever going to bud with Julian.

Yuck. He was the epitome of a molesting Henry VIII, who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Like hell it was a joke. She knew Julian’s type.

He’d sell his granny if he thought he could get away with it.

And if he worked for the government, he’d hike up the tax on sanitary products by 1000%, not giving a toss about the trials and tribulations of a woman. Lola couldn’t abide him.

‘Refills all round?’ Julian said loudly as Harry turned back to take in the action on the pitch.

Like that wasn’t a sly attempt to make himself look even more invaluable to the boss.

Lola covered her flute with one hand, gripping its stem for dear life with the other.

No way did she trust Julian not to tamper with her drink.

But everybody else seemed to love the two-faced guy; their orders flying in thick and fast.

‘I’ll come with you, mate,’ said Bobby, gripping Julian by the shoulder, strangely oblivious to his putrid perspiration.

‘You’re a gentleman and a scholar making sure we’re all looked after.

And you can give me a head’s up on that bespoke birthday card range you need me to design for your client in Spain.

Well done again on that mahoosive order!

Now, remind me: do they want it with a confetti or glitter explosion? ’

Lola gritted her teeth– and not just at the annoying mess the male designers would insist on adding to the interior of a greetings card so that some poor multitasking woman somewhere in the world had to get down on her hands and knees to clean it up.

Tarjetas y Tartas (Cards where predators couldn’t wiggle as much as a toe at the door, where she wasn’t reprimanded as if she was a young child, and where the concept of equality wasn’t just a wishful fairytale.

She reached for her bag and found a bundle of unused tissues, swivelling to the right once more out of Julian and his filthy hands’ reach, before dabbing at her ruined dress.

But her hand was back in a fist before she knew it, wrapped around the sodden tissues. Julian’s soft but poisonous laughter snaked its way around her personal space until Lola felt so stifled she could barely breathe. Truly, she’d never been so angry.