Page 91 of Pretty Mess

He raises his hand and cards his fingers through my hair, his face absorbed. “It could make dining in restaurants rather awkward.”

“What couldpossiblybe more awkward than the restaurants you eat in? They have cutlery I’ve never even heard of.”

“Well, that’s not hard to believe from someone who uses his fists to eat food.”

I smack his hard stomach. “Shut up,” I say, laughing. “I do not. What are you doing back, anyway? I thought you had an all-day meeting.”

“It was cancelled.”

Was it by you?Luckily, I have the sense not to say that out loud.

“That’s brilliant,” I say happily, instead. “So, you’re back for the day? Or are you going out for work again?” My smile slips slightly, despite my best efforts.

There’s a long pause. Mac’s hand tightens on his glass and his gaze flicks toward the window and back to me. “No.” He clears his throat. “It’s our last day. I wondered if you’d like to go for a walk, explore the city, and then grab dinner later.”

Joy rushes through me, so strong I sway on my feet. “Oh my god, I’dloveto.” I can’t help the fervour in my voice. How could I? To have a whole day and evening with Mac makes my heart sing.

He inhales slowly, straightening his shoulders. “Then that’s what we’ll do. Go and shower and get changed. I’ll grab a jumper and my jacket.”

His expression turns wry, and I know my smile is far too wide, but I’m too excited to hide it. “Yay,” I say.

I lean up to kiss him, and when I go to pull away, his hand stops me. He deepens the kiss, and our tongues tangle. The usual familiar sweet heat unfurls in my belly, and I hear a thud as his glass lands on the carpet.

His hands land on my shoulders, and he gently pushes me back, his eyes dark and his mouth a little swollen. “No,” he says hoarsely. “I promised myself a day with you, and that’s what we’re doing. Go and get ready. It’s cooler today, so grab a jacket.”

I’m unable to resist giving him another kiss, and I laugh as he swats my backside and sends me off.

I rush through my shower and waste a few valuable minutes deciding what to wear. Ultimately, I settle for a pair of khaki cargo trousers with a white T-shirt and a navy cashmere jumper, none of which I remember buying, which means I owe Julian. When I stayed with him, he had a habit of popping expensive clothes into my wardrobe in the hope that I’d wear them. I should probably have a pair of expensive brogues like him, but they’re just not me. Instead, I slip into my old Converse, which are comfortable for walking.

I return to the foyer, where Mac stands looking at something on his phone. He’s added a black jumper, Vans, and a jacket in some soft tweedy material to his outfit. I thought he’d look odd in casual dress, but he seems perfectly comfortable and even hotter than normal, if that’s possible.

The white T-shirt peeks from the jumper’s neck, and I wonder about the rowing club. Does he row? There’s so much about him I don’t know. So much to find out if he’d only let me.

Hearing my footsteps, he turns around and looks at me for a long moment. Then he smiles, and it’s crooked with an edge of sweetness, making me stare for a second before recovering myself.

“Ready?” I say brightly. He nods and gestures me into the corridor and presses the button for the lift. I nod at his phone. “Not more trouble, I hope.”

He shrugs. “There’s always trouble,” he says rather wearily. He shoves the phone into his pocket. “But not today.”

“No,” I say quickly. “Definitelynot today.”

That pulls a smile from him, and we step into the lift. He scans his keycard and looks at me as the lift descends. “Where have you been this week?”

“Oh, Notre Dame, the Louvre, the Conciergerie, the Arc de Triomphe, the Eiffel Tower, and the Orsay Museum.”

He blinks. “In threedays?”

“Mac, who knows when I’ll come here again? I had to cram a lot in.” The doors of the lift open, and I nudge him. “I’m a boy with a lot of determination.”

“You’re a boy with many opinions and a determination to always express them.” We step into the busy lobby, and he pauses. “Which did you like best?”

“The Orsay,” I say immediately. “It was so light and warm. I liked the Louvre, but a lot of it seemed dark. I prefer the sunshine.”

A funny expression crosses his face—it’s humour but not directed at me. More like he finds something funny in himself. But all he says is, “Of course you do. So, is there anywhere else you’d like to see?”

“Where were you thinking of taking me?” I ask interestedly. “I need to compare that against my own list and see if it measures up.”

His lip twitches. “Oh dear, and now my competitive instinct has kicked in.” He ushers me out of the hotel, his hand against my back. Outside, the cool breeze hits us. The street is as busy as usual.