Выбери любимый жанр

Perfection - Mathewson R. L. - Страница 70


Изменить размер шрифта:

70

"Move your ass, O'Neil! That's my spot!"

The bastard smiled. Smiled!

"Oh, is this your spot?" he asked, feigning innocence, but Rory knew the man was anything but innocent. He was a bad boy, even his looks gave him away, and that damn smile of his let him get away with everything.

The life ruining bastard!

"Yes!" she snapped. "You know damn well that's my spot! Why else would I have been sitting here waiting with my blinker on?"

He sighed dramatically. "Yes, I did see that now that you mention it."

"Then move!" she said, not caring about playing their usual game of pissing each other off. She had a huge contract to sign, damn it!

He nodded as he fixed his tie and leaned into the cab of his truck. Rory tapped her thumbs against the steering wheel once again happy that the man had enough sense to skip the bullshit this morning. Maybe today would be-

"I'll move it," pausing as he stepped away from his truck with a folder in his hand and shut his door, "right after my meeting."

Her mouth dropped as the life ruining bastard walked away laughing.

*************

"Ah, good times," Shia sighed happily as he stepped into the office. Taunting a woman shouldn't be so much fun, but it was. It always had been where Rory was concerned. Hell, he'd even enjoyed screwing with her back in preschool.

Sure there were about a dozen other little girls he could have tormented with paint, paste and pushed down into the mud, but why bother when there was always little Rory James around? She was just asking for it with those two little pigtails, tomboy clothes, and the little know-it-all attitude. As the school bully it had been his job to make her life a living hell and he had taken his job quite seriously all those years ago. Hell, he still did.

There was just something about screwing with her that brought a smile to his face. That was probably why three years ago he bought the run down house right next to hers. Sure there were other fixer-uppers he could have bought for half the price, but none of them would have provided him with the entertainment of living right next door Rory.

He ran a hand over the back of his head, smoothing down his hair as he headed towards the little blushing secretary that was trying to pretend she wasn't watching his approach.

"Good morning, Mary, how are you this morning?" he asked in his most charming voice.

She nodded, shyly averting her eyes. "Mr. McGill will be with you in a few minutes, Mr. O'Neil. Please have a seat and help yourself to some coffee," she mumbled quietly while she gestured to the small waiting area with three chairs against the wall and a gourmet coffee table that held one of those insanely expensive coffee machines that used mini cups of ground coffee to make single cups.

Shia winked. "Thank you." He walked over to the waiting area and decided a good cup of coffee would help settle his nerves, not that he doubted he was getting the job. There was no doubt he would get it this time. He'd put in the time and had his work to back him up. No one within a hundred miles could match the price. This job was as good as his.

He was reaching for a single cup serving of gourmet French vanilla coffee when a single brown serving cup caught his eye. Picking it up, he couldn't help but smile as he held the last serving of gourmet hot chocolate in his hand. Not that he was particularly fond of hot chocolate, he really wasn't, but he knew a certain someone that was.

A minute later he was sitting down with a cup of frothy hot chocolate. Not as good as coffee, but not too bad. He sat down, placing his folder on the empty chair next to him while he sipped his beverage.

He didn't even bother trying not to chuckle when Rory half stumbled into the reception area and made a beeline to Mary's desk almost falling over seven times in the process. Why she tried to walk in those high heels he would never know. She was already tall, taller than most women in town and a good majority of the men at five-ten. He was not one of them since he had a good five inches on her. She really didn't need the heels, but he rather liked what they did for those beautiful tan legs of hers. Although, he would never admit that she looked good, really good, in that little business outfit that accentuated her size D's, and he would bet his life they were D's, and the high heels that she clearly didn't know how to walk in. Not that he would ever tell her.

He noticed she wore a little bit of makeup today, interesting. She looked good, but then again she always looked good. He especially liked her hair. Always had even when it used to be pulled up into pigtails. There was just something about wavy caramel hair with natural golden blonde highlights with those sky blue eyes that drove him nuts.

Shia watched as Mary informed her that Mr. McGill was running behind and gestured for her to sit in the waiting area. Rory didn't look happy about the wait, but she looked decidedly pissed off seconds later when she spotted him. Her eyes narrowed on him as she walked, stumbled, over to the complimentary table all while glaring at him.

Shia sipped his cocoa, watching as Rory searched for her precious hot chocolate.

"Mary, is there any hot chocolate?" the little addict asked, sounding anxious for a fix.

"Sorry, hun, if it's not there then we don't have it."

Sighing, she nodded and carefully walked the ten steps over to the waiting area only to stop abruptly and glare at him.

"Is something wrong, Rory?" he asked, acting as if he didn't know what had her panties in a bunch.

"You're sitting in the middle," she bit out.

He made a show of looking down at where he sat and then at each chair beside him. "Hmm, look at that so I am," he mused.

"Move." She gestured impatiently at him.

Sighing he took a sip of his drink. "Nope," he said, making the word pop.

"Nope?"

"Nope."

Rory glared at him, then at each empty chair before looking around desperately for another chair. When she couldn't find any means to distance herself from him, which he knew she was dying to do, she sat down as far as she could in the chair to his right.

Sighing loud and long to annoy the shit out of her, he stretched his right arm out and then dropped it along the back of her chair.

"Do you mind?" she asked, looking pointedly at his arm.

He shook his head. "No, not really."

She opened her mouth, probably to tell him off for the millionth time, shut it and shook her head muttering, "I don't have time for games today."

That was too bad, because he rather enjoyed their little battles. He made a show of sipping his drink. "Mmmm, that's good cocoa."

Rory first glared at him then at his cup.

"You took the last hot cocoa?"

"Uh huh," he answered, taking another sip.

She nodded slowly. "I see."

"I'm sure you do."

Just as he went to take another sip of that rather creamy cup of hot cocoa that tasted better and better by the second, she jabbed him in the side hard with a finger the same time she made a grab for his cup. He tried to pull the cup away, but she just dug that damn finger harder into his side.

Shit! That really hurt!

Deciding that it was better to give up the cocoa than to let her make his eyes tear up, he released the cup. Rory twisted her finger harder into his side, digging deep for good measure before backing off. Glaring at her, he rubbed his side while she happily sipped his cocoa.

Damn, there were a lot of things in life he regretted and right now showing her that little trick in sixth grade when she wouldn't let him cut her in the lunch line was one of them. He winced as he rubbed the spot. Well, it looked like she'd perfected that move.

70
Перейти на страницу:

Вы читаете книгу


Mathewson R. L. - Perfection Perfection
Мир литературы

Жанры

Фантастика и фэнтези

Детективы и триллеры

Проза

Любовные романы

Приключения

Детские

Поэзия и драматургия

Старинная литература

Научно-образовательная

Компьютеры и интернет

Справочная литература

Документальная литература

Религия и духовность

Юмор

Дом и семья

Деловая литература

Жанр не определен

Техника

Прочее

Драматургия

Фольклор

Военное дело