Poles Apart
Page 2
“Tut tut, Em. You should be more careful,” the voice whispered in my ear, sending a little shiver through my body.
Carson Matthews.
My face grew hotter as his hand brushed across my stomach, straightening my top for me before he rested his hands on my hips, still standing dangerously close to my back. I could barely breathe. He always caused this reaction in me; he had since the first time I laid eyes on him when I was sixteen. That was on my first shift here at the club, a night which changed my life forever, yet it was just another Saturday night for him.
I gulped, willing my voice not to betray me. Turning to look at him over my shoulder, I attempted to look seductive even though I had just fallen to the floor like a moron. His pale-blue eyes locked on mine. The sexy little smirk on his lips made my heart flutter erratically.
So. Damn. Handsome.
“Thanks for the concern, Mr Matthews. I’m fine, by the way; thanks for asking,” I teased.
“That you are, Emma. That you are.” He slapped my bum and laughed as I gasped at the slight stinging pain. “Come on, you’re waiting on us tonight.” Grabbing my hand, he lifted it up high, guiding me to do a graceful little turn to face him. His smell filled my lungs – the unmistakeable scent of orange blossom and chocolate, mixed with dirt and car grease.
So hot! Why does he have to be so hot?
Wait a second, what did he say? Waiting on him?
I flicked my eyes over to his six friends; they weren’t sitting in my section tonight. Their waitress was Charlotte, not me. Resisting the urge to pout, I shook my head. “You’re not in my section tonight, baby.”
He frowned, looking over at the table, clearly bewildered. “I thought you worked tables eighteen to twenty-four?”
I smiled because he would recall something like that. That was when I noticed he and his friends had sat themselves firmly on twenty, a table which, up until two weeks ago, would have been mine. “We had a little move around. I’m one to six now.” I bit my lip, looking at him apologetically, but he’d probably prefer Charlotte anyway; she was much prettier and flirtier than me.
“Shit,” he muttered, frowning. Then he gave me a mischievous grin. “Well, just for the night, you can swap back.” He bent down quickly, gripped hold of my waist tightly and threw me over his muscular shoulder, making me whimper in surprise. Laughing, he slapped my bum again, a little lower this time so his hand actually made contact with the skin rather than the material of the ridiculously short shorts. There was a loud smacking sound and a couple of guys near us cheered again, causing me to blush harder and press my face into Carson’s toned back.
“Put me down!” I ordered breathlessly as he carried me effortlessly across the room toward his table. Catching sight of the tray of broken glass I had just left lying in the middle of the floor, I groaned. “Carson, I need to sort out that mess!”
Gently shifting me on his shoulder, he altered his course and strutted to the bar instead. “Emma had an accident. Get someone to clear that up, would ya?” he said to Jason, tossing two crisp fifty-pound notes down before turning away, not waiting for an answer. Behind me, Jason laughed as I struggled to get down. Well, struggled wasn’t exactly the right word. Of course, I really didn’t try very hard because this was Carson Matthews, the guy I had been totally and utterly in love with for almost three years. Carson Matthews, the world famous Grand Prix Motorcycle driver and most eligible bachelor in England. No girl in her right mind would seriously want this experience to end.
As we got to his table, he tugged on my legs, making me slide down his hard body. His arms tightened around my waist, crushing my body against his, our faces were level so my feet dangled a little way off the floor. He smiled his nice smile, the one which made him get the adorable little dimples in his cheeks, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him.
“Now then, champagne, I think…” he trailed off, setting me gently onto my feet, straightening my top again because it had risen up from being thrown around so much.
I rolled my eyes and did a little curtsy, forcing a sweet smile. “Anything your heart desires, Mr Matthews,” I replied sarcastically.
He laughed and reached out, brushing the hair away from my face, pushing it behind my ear. “You’ve had your hair cut since I last saw you,” he mused, playing with my dirty-blonde hair, which now hung in natural, loose curls down to my bra strap instead of my bum. I winced, thinking it probably looked like I’d been dragged through a hedge backwards because of being upside-down.
I smiled and nodded in confirmation. “Yeah.” My heart sped because he’d noticed even though I hadn’t seen him for close to three weeks. He’d been off being the big-shot celebrity, doing a modelling shoot in LA before kicking butt in all of his races in a bid to get to number one on the leader board. Carson was the hottest driver around at the moment, winning everything. At only twenty-one, he had the whole world watching, captivated, just waiting for the ‘young rookie English driver’ to become this year’s MotoGP champion.
“It looks good, Em. You look good.” He smiled softly.
I needed to go; I couldn’t keep standing here having this conversation with him. It was hard when I hadn’t seen him for a while. My resistance to his charm faded the longer I was away from him, and then when I did see him, I could barely control my emotions as everything threatened to burst out of me.
“Thanks. You do, too.” Wow, that’s the understatement of the century right there! “I’d better go get you some drinks then.” My skin was blazing under the layers of make-up I was wearing as I turned back to the table of his friends. “Right then, boys, what can I get you?” I asked, forcing my work-smile onto my face.
Carson Matthews.
My face grew hotter as his hand brushed across my stomach, straightening my top for me before he rested his hands on my hips, still standing dangerously close to my back. I could barely breathe. He always caused this reaction in me; he had since the first time I laid eyes on him when I was sixteen. That was on my first shift here at the club, a night which changed my life forever, yet it was just another Saturday night for him.
I gulped, willing my voice not to betray me. Turning to look at him over my shoulder, I attempted to look seductive even though I had just fallen to the floor like a moron. His pale-blue eyes locked on mine. The sexy little smirk on his lips made my heart flutter erratically.
So. Damn. Handsome.
“Thanks for the concern, Mr Matthews. I’m fine, by the way; thanks for asking,” I teased.
“That you are, Emma. That you are.” He slapped my bum and laughed as I gasped at the slight stinging pain. “Come on, you’re waiting on us tonight.” Grabbing my hand, he lifted it up high, guiding me to do a graceful little turn to face him. His smell filled my lungs – the unmistakeable scent of orange blossom and chocolate, mixed with dirt and car grease.
So hot! Why does he have to be so hot?
Wait a second, what did he say? Waiting on him?
I flicked my eyes over to his six friends; they weren’t sitting in my section tonight. Their waitress was Charlotte, not me. Resisting the urge to pout, I shook my head. “You’re not in my section tonight, baby.”
He frowned, looking over at the table, clearly bewildered. “I thought you worked tables eighteen to twenty-four?”
I smiled because he would recall something like that. That was when I noticed he and his friends had sat themselves firmly on twenty, a table which, up until two weeks ago, would have been mine. “We had a little move around. I’m one to six now.” I bit my lip, looking at him apologetically, but he’d probably prefer Charlotte anyway; she was much prettier and flirtier than me.
“Shit,” he muttered, frowning. Then he gave me a mischievous grin. “Well, just for the night, you can swap back.” He bent down quickly, gripped hold of my waist tightly and threw me over his muscular shoulder, making me whimper in surprise. Laughing, he slapped my bum again, a little lower this time so his hand actually made contact with the skin rather than the material of the ridiculously short shorts. There was a loud smacking sound and a couple of guys near us cheered again, causing me to blush harder and press my face into Carson’s toned back.
“Put me down!” I ordered breathlessly as he carried me effortlessly across the room toward his table. Catching sight of the tray of broken glass I had just left lying in the middle of the floor, I groaned. “Carson, I need to sort out that mess!”
Gently shifting me on his shoulder, he altered his course and strutted to the bar instead. “Emma had an accident. Get someone to clear that up, would ya?” he said to Jason, tossing two crisp fifty-pound notes down before turning away, not waiting for an answer. Behind me, Jason laughed as I struggled to get down. Well, struggled wasn’t exactly the right word. Of course, I really didn’t try very hard because this was Carson Matthews, the guy I had been totally and utterly in love with for almost three years. Carson Matthews, the world famous Grand Prix Motorcycle driver and most eligible bachelor in England. No girl in her right mind would seriously want this experience to end.
As we got to his table, he tugged on my legs, making me slide down his hard body. His arms tightened around my waist, crushing my body against his, our faces were level so my feet dangled a little way off the floor. He smiled his nice smile, the one which made him get the adorable little dimples in his cheeks, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him.
“Now then, champagne, I think…” he trailed off, setting me gently onto my feet, straightening my top again because it had risen up from being thrown around so much.
I rolled my eyes and did a little curtsy, forcing a sweet smile. “Anything your heart desires, Mr Matthews,” I replied sarcastically.
He laughed and reached out, brushing the hair away from my face, pushing it behind my ear. “You’ve had your hair cut since I last saw you,” he mused, playing with my dirty-blonde hair, which now hung in natural, loose curls down to my bra strap instead of my bum. I winced, thinking it probably looked like I’d been dragged through a hedge backwards because of being upside-down.
I smiled and nodded in confirmation. “Yeah.” My heart sped because he’d noticed even though I hadn’t seen him for close to three weeks. He’d been off being the big-shot celebrity, doing a modelling shoot in LA before kicking butt in all of his races in a bid to get to number one on the leader board. Carson was the hottest driver around at the moment, winning everything. At only twenty-one, he had the whole world watching, captivated, just waiting for the ‘young rookie English driver’ to become this year’s MotoGP champion.
“It looks good, Em. You look good.” He smiled softly.
I needed to go; I couldn’t keep standing here having this conversation with him. It was hard when I hadn’t seen him for a while. My resistance to his charm faded the longer I was away from him, and then when I did see him, I could barely control my emotions as everything threatened to burst out of me.
“Thanks. You do, too.” Wow, that’s the understatement of the century right there! “I’d better go get you some drinks then.” My skin was blazing under the layers of make-up I was wearing as I turned back to the table of his friends. “Right then, boys, what can I get you?” I asked, forcing my work-smile onto my face.
