Running From Fate (22 page)

Mira watched
as James mutilated his fish and mumbled
nastily
under his breath.
She picked up her
beer
and took a drink in an effort to hide her smile.
So much for her fears that the man bare
ly even noticed her
. 
He
was jealous.  I
t was all she could do not to laugh.

“Well?” James asked
in a disgruntled tone.
“How did you meet this man you say you don’t know?”
He gave up on his fish, threw down his fork, and
picked up his drink.  It might do a better job of washing the bitter taste from his mouth.

“It’s sort of a long story.
Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Did I no
just say so?”
 
He stood up and took her now empty glass.
“I’ll get you another pint, but when I come back I want to hear
it
.”
He grabbed his own mug
and walked off.

She leaned
back
in her chair, crossed her ankles
and watched him work his way over to the bar
. 
She
couldn’t tell
if it was
due to
the alcohol or the situation, but he was
definitely different. 
His usually controlled stride was
altered, somehow
smoother and looser and
every once in a while she could hear a hint of his Irish accent leaking out. 

He reached the bar, after not so politely rebuffing the advances of three women, and
a wizened, white haired man turned
to
speak
to him.
James
leaned closer to the man and appeared to be intently listening to something he was saying.  Moments later, he threw back his head and laughed
.

The sound warmed something inside of her.
No matter what ended up
happening
, she decided,
it was worth it to s
ee just a glimpse of the young boy
that she used to know.

“Here’s your beer.”
James sat down and plunked a pint of Guinness in front of her.
He took a long
, slow
drink of his whiskey before sitting it down and crossing his arms.
“You were saying,” he prompted.

Mira sighed and considered how much she
could tell him without revealing who she was.  She knew that it was deceitful to leave him in the dark, but the thought of ruining even the tenuous connection that they had developed, made her stomach churn.  Besides, she rationalized fuzzily
. 
It
wasn’t even like they were dating.  They were merely business associates.

“The first time I met Sir Jonathan Ashton II
, she began,
“
I was 19 and—“

“W
ait a minute.
”
  He narrowed his eyes and glared at her.  “Am I to believe the man was coming on to you were you were still a wee lass.  I should go and back and find him just so I can give him a good taste of me fists.”

“If you could refrain fro
m interrupting,” she
tapped her fingers on the table
and glared
back at him, “I’ll finish my story.”

James leaned back in his chair,
downed
his whiskey,
sighing a
s warmth slide down his throat,
and tried to relax.

She
nodded her head regally and
chugged
her
beer.
  Her mind buzzed pleasantly. 
“As I was sayin
g
,” she continued, thankful that her speech was still coherent
.
  “
I met Jonathan when I was 19.
It was the summer after my sophomore year and I had come to London to do an internship at a large architectural firm.
Jonathan was a client of theirs.
I saw him in passing a few times and he didn’t seem to notice me.
One day, however, he came over to me and said I looked a little lost.
He offered to show me around the city.”

“You went with him!?
” 
He sprang up, upsetting his glass.  “
The man has to be at least 10 years older than you
. 
Did you no
have better sense than that?”

“He’s 12 years older,” Mira replied hotly, “and my common sense is just fine.
I said that he asked me.
I didn’t say that I agreed.”
She stood up and grabbed her now empty glass.

“If you’re getting a refill
could
you
please get me one?
  I’ll pay of course.”  He
held out his glass
and a 10 pound note
.

As an apology it was severely lacking, but it was better than nothing.  She
took
the money
and stalked
off
.
  At least she tried to stalk, but it was kind of difficult when her legs insisted on wobbling.

James watched her in brooding silence and wondered what it was about Mira
Anders
that affected him so strongly.
He hadn’t had this much trouble controlling his emotions since he was a teenager.
He watched her lean against the bar and strike up a c
onversation with the bartender. 
She looked like a young co-ed in her skintight jeans and soft, green sweater
a
nd way too young and innocent for her own good.
The bartender winked and smiled at her.
Making a quick decision, James pushed back his chair and stood up.

Mira jolted when she felt a heavy hand come down on her shoulder.
She fumbled and almost spilled the drinks she was holding.
Carefully, she sat both drinks down on the bar and spun around, ready to give whoever it was a piece of her mind.
Her face slammed into a solid, unmovable object.
She lifted a hand to rub her sore nose and looked up.
James’ beautiful blue eyes locked on hers and
, forgetting her earlier pique,
she smiled dreamily.
It was several seconds before she realized he was saying something to her.

“Mira.” 
James clutched her upper arms and shook her.
She blinked as up at him as if coming of some kind of trance.
Perhaps he shouldn’t let her have any
more to drink.

“What?”
Mira asked when she had regained her wits.

“I think it’s time we were getting out of here.”
He dropped her arms and grabbed hold of her hand.

“But I just bought two more drinks,” she sputtered.
“Let go of me.
”
  She jerked back, almost tripping over a barstool.  “
I’m sick of you dragging me around.”

James ignored her comment, lifted his whiskey, and drained it in one swallow.
He staggered sligh
tly, but kept hold of her hand.  “There, happy now?” 
He
sat
the glass down and pulled her toward the door.

“What about my drink?”

“You don’t need any
more.”

The evening air was bracing after the closeness inside the pub and Mira felt her head begin to clear.
She gently tugged on her hand, but
he
merely tightened his hold and quickened the pace.
She sighed and sped up, almost tripping in an effort to keep up with him.

After several minutes, James realized that he was almost dragging her
and
slowed his pace and
to
let her catch up.
He briefly considered letting go of her hand, but the warm weight of it felt somehow right and familiar.

The cool, damp air of a London night surrounded them, encl
osing them in a private bubble. 
The streets were strangely deserted so the only sounds were their shoes on the pavement and their brea
th in the quiet air. 
The
y
walked along in silence for several minutes
. 
After
a couple of
blocks the cool dampness condensed into a soft, misty rain that clung to their hair and slowly dampened their clothes.

Despite the rain, James was feeling more at ease than he had in many years.
His unrel
enting race to the top had may have
put his company at the forefront of
a lucrative new market, but it hadn’t left him much time for relaxation.
Truthfully, he had
n’t been that worried about it. 
Taking glittering, shallow women out for an evening and, sometimes, going to their home for the night had been enough.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
Something about the night and the woman
walking beside him
made him ache for something more.
It was a slightly scary feeling, like standing on the edge of a steep cliff, but it was also exhilarating.
He might regret it tomorrow
, he thought as he tightened his hand,
but he wasn’t ready to let the feeling go.

He glanced d
own at Mira and almost laughed. 
Unlike most women of his acquaintance, who would panic if their hair got wet, she was walking with her eyes closed and her head tilted up to the sky
, obviously trusting him not to steer her wrong
.
Water droplets clung to her long lashes and glistened against her full lips.
She didn’t look like a young woman now, but like a pagan goddess
,
wallo
wing in the bounties of nature. 
A bolt of lust hit him so strongly that it was all he could do to stay upright.
  He clenched his
teeth and
fought for control.

“Is something wrong?” Mira asked hesitantly
when they stopped suddenly
.
 
She looked up at
him and shivered with a mixture of fear and excitement.
His blue eyes burned with an inner heat in a face drawn tight as if in immense pain.
Captivated by
him despite the fear,
she
unconsciously leaned forward and parted her lips.