Page 3 of Hot n Bothered

B uzzing penetrated her concentration. Isobelle tried to ignore it but it persisted. Who was being so insistent at calling her? And where the Hell was her bloody phone now?

“Alright, alright.” She muttered as she tried to follow the buzzing on the mess that was her desk. “Fuck.” She swore as she knocked a pile of notepads to the floor along with a load of pens.

“What?” She snapped into her phone as she finally found it.

“How much did you knock over?” Darren chuckled.

“Five pads and a pot of pens.” She muttered. “What are you calling about?”

“Just reminding you about your date tonight.”

She bristled. “Yes, thank you, I am aware of it. I’m not a child who needs reminding about everything.”

“No. But I also know how you get when you get locked into your writing. Everything else disappears, so I thought I would call you so you had time to get ready.”

“He’s not getting here until seven. I have plenty of time.” She huffed, annoyed that he had interrupted her flow for something so ridiculous.

“Iz. Check the time. I’ve been ringing for ages.”

“What do you…? Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!”

It was quarter to seven! Where had the afternoon gone? Urgh, she was such a mess. She hung up on Darren’s laughter tossing her phone on the bed. She tripped as she ran into the bathroom, painfully slamming her shoulder into the doorframe as she turned on the shower.

Please be late, please be late, please be late.

She said over and over in her head as she had the world’s quickest shower.

Thankfully she had some nice trousers she’d bought for work, that hadn’t been worn yet.

So they were clean and didn’t need ironing.

She dug around in her ironing pile, or was that her need to put away pile?

Whatever pile it was she dug around until she found that cute top that she used to like on her. But now somehow looked horrible.

She pulled a face, why was she concerned with looking good?

It’s not like any of this was real. Yeah, but it’s Ben her stupid brain reminded her as she did her makeup.

She didn’t bother with much just powder foundation, eyeliner and mascara.

After all putting makeup on a pig still makes it a pig in makeup.

That was one of her mother’s favourite quotes to say before untucking her hair from behind her ear, patting her cheek and saying.

“But you do your makeup so well my darling.”

Isobelle gave herself a mental shake as she dried and straightened her hair.

She did not need to be thinking about her mother right now.

Especially with how late she probably was.

She hadn’t dared look at the time as she got ready.

It was a stupid logic that if she couldn’t see how late she was then she wasn’t that late.

She was just tucking her shoulder length bobbed hair behind her ears when there was a ring of her doorbell. Talk about perfect timing. Had she done the impossible and actually gotten ready on time? A glance at her watch showed that no, she was her usual twenty minutes late.

“You’re late.” She said as she opened the door.

Dear God, he was wearing a suit with a waistcoat.

What right did any man have to look that good?

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry seeing how he wasn’t wearing a tie and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone.

She remembered the noise he had made when she had nipped him there.

A part purr, part growl that had nearly undone her.

He grinned at her, completely oblivious to how frazzled he was making her.

“I am not late. I am perfectly on time for Belle time.” He glanced down at her feet. “Gonna need shoes sweetheart.”

“Not sweetheart.” She turned away, eyeing her shoe rack. “How much walking will be done?”

“Why? And why?”

“Because Rich calls me that when he’s being a condescending prick and it will help me decide what pair of shoes I’ll wear.”

“Oh yeah, forgot about that. Um, don’t you normally go for the ones that go with your outfit?”

He looked so confused, bless him.

“No. It depends on whether tonight I will need a minimum of one hour or four hours shoes.”

He blinked at her. “Shoes have time limits? Are they like Cinderella slippers or something? Do they change into pumpkins?”

“No.” She laughed. “It’s how long you can walk or stand in them before they hurt. These are good solid four hour shoes.” She picked up a pair of black medium height heeled ankle boots.

“You wear those a lot.” He said looking at them.

“Because they are comfortable and the wide heel means extra stability when drinking.”

“I see. What about these?” He pointed to her red, super high heels.

“One and a half hours, maybe two if I can take them off at some point.”

“This is fascinating.” He leant down staring at her shoes as though he really was intrigued by them. “So is that why you have so many? I mean I used to only have what? Four? Trainers for working out, trainers for slobbing, comfy smart shoes then dress shoes.”

She laughed. “You do not have four pairs of shoes. Each time I see you, you’re in a different pair.”

He shrugged. “I do now. I get sent all kinds of stuff to wear and review, sometimes it has its perks. Other times it’s not so good.”

“How is getting ton of stuff for free not good?”

“Because I no longer have a clue what to wear.”

“Oh you poor baby. How dreadful for you. It’s a hard life isn’t it my darling.”

He was nodding then narrowed his eyes. “Hang on. Did you just call me out by using what your mother says?”

She gave him her best innocent smile making him laugh.

“So come on tell me what shoes to wear or we are actually going to be late.”

“Oh right.” He glanced at his watch. “Um… it’s a meal, carpark is nearby. But I also want you to be comfortable so wear what you want.”

“You are no help at all.” She huffed. “Ok then it’s the good old favourites.” She grabbed the ankle boots, then looked him up and down. “Alright, now I feel underdressed.”

“Why?”

“Well, look at you.”

The charcoal grey of his suit really brought out his eyes. They were always stunning, but tonight they really looked intense. Especially as they looked her up and down.

“You look fine.”

“Wow. Fine, just what every woman wants to hear on a date.”

“You look stunning, beautiful, perfection itself.” He laid his hand on his heart. “You are the most gorgeous creature I have ever laid eyes on. Better?”

She snorted, pulling her boots on. “Not even a whole day as my fake boyfriend and you’re already lying to me. Wait.” She stood frowning at him. “What did you mean earlier by Belle time?”

“Oh yeah.” He grinned sheepishly, running his hand through his hair. “It’s something we came up with a few years back. You ever notice how you are consistently twenty minutes late? Like you can set your watch to it.”

“Alright, you don’t have to rub it in.” She scowled at him before hunting for her bag. Why did she never put things away where they should be?

“I think it’s cute. Anyway we now tell you to be ready thirty minutes before you need to be somewhere so you get ten minutes of being able to calm down, so you’re all good.”

She straightened looking at him, thinking back over the past few years how she had thought she was late then somehow was on time.

“I don’t know if that’s really sweet or really condescending.”

“If it’s condescending, then it was Darren’s idea. If it’s really sweet, then obviously it’s my idea.” He grinned at her laugh. “What have you lost?”

“My bag.” She huffed, throwing cushions from the sofa on the floor.

“Is your phone in it?”

“Yes… no… I don’t know.” She threw her hands up in the air. “Urgh! Why am I such a mess?”

“You’re not a mess, babe. Your brain just has different priorities.” He pulled out his phone and started tapping on it.

“Not a talking pig.” She snapped, before following the buzzing into her bedroom.

“Are you going to turn down every pet name I try?” He called from the other room.

She found her phone, but still no bag. She was getting really frustrated now.

“If they are as crass as babe, chick, darl, sweetie, pumpkin, then yes. Where the fuck is it?” She finally yelled.

“This it?”

She turned to see him holding out her bag.

“Yes. Thank you. Where was it?”

“Sneaky thing was hiding under your desk. I gave it a talking to. Can we go now?”

“I guess and as for pet names, why don’t you just stick with Belle. You are the only one who calls me it.”

“I am?”

“Yep.” She walked past him out the door. “Only you like to remind me how I confessed Beauty and the Beast was my favourite film.” She stopped, then spun round hoping to catch him before he shut the door behind him.

He had. But he was also holding up her forgotten keys on his finger with a smug smile.