Chapter Five

"Hey, there you are. I thought I saw you slipping in here." April suddenly appeared holding her long-lensed camera. She looked between Celeste and Ezra.

"Hi." Celeste smiled. "This is Ezra, he's … he works for Fulham Front too."

"Nice to meet you." April gave Ezra a flirty smile and twitch of her eyebrows, then returned her attention to Celeste. "You're going to love this."

"You caught her throwing evils down the red carpet, right?"

"Hell, yeah." April held up the screen on her camera and they all crowded to see it.

"That's perfect," Ezra said.

"Brilliant. You're a star." Celeste squeezed her shoulder.

"The perfect money shot, and it's yours if you've got the right fee." April laughed.

"We're good for it," Ezra said. "Don't be selling that to anyone else."

"Hey, Mister, I'm a woman of my word." April pointed at Ezra. "And Celeste is my girl when it comes to papping celebs. She and I have been working together for a few years now."

"It's clear you're very talented." Ezra nodded. "Good to have you onboard."

April laughed. "Yeah, yeah. You guys have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't."

"You're not staying for a drink?" Celeste asked.

"And spoil your party?"

"It's not a party," Celeste said.

"Seems to me like it's a birthday party." April tapped the Birthday Boy badge Ezra was wearing. It had been on his card. "Have a good one." She turned to the window and nodded. "Seems the rain has stopped, for a while at least."

And then she was gone.

Ezra removed his badge.

"You don't feel like celebrating?"

"Not this year."

"Too much on your mind, huh?"

"What do you mean?" He frowned and took a sip of his pint.

"Your friend in Ukraine."

"Yeah, Jacob. Would have been a good birthday present to hear from him."

"I agree." She wondered if Patrick would find anything out. "And Toby told me about your mother. Going into a home. I'm sorry, that must be hard."

For a moment she wondered if he was going to bark a reply, his face hardened and his lips pressed into a straight line. But then he closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. "Not ideal but the only option." He half shrugged. "Made me feel like the worst son in the world, if I'm honest."

Honesty, now there was something she admired. "Aging parents are hard. I'm lucky mine are well, but I guess I'll have to face it at some point."

He said nothing.

"Is it close? The care home?"

"It's about half an hour from where I live … in King's Cross. My sister is closer to her, but she doesn't work full time so she'll be calling in most days to check on her, give her some company, you know."

"Makes sense."

"Horrid disease, dementia." He visibly shuddered. "Steals the soul."

She took a sip of wine. "I'm sorry your family is going through this."

"Thanks." He shrugged.

"Wanna talk about something else?"

"Yeah, like why you enjoy celeb reporting so much?" He raised his eyebrows.

"What's not to love? There's always something juicy going on. Lots of stories and scandals. Victims and villains. It's a real-life soap opera. Plus, I adore the glamor, Melinda looked stunning tonight." Celeste paused. "She deserves to find someone who treats her right. All the money and success in the world doesn't count for much if you have no one to share it with, no one you can trust. No one you believe truly loves you."

"I agree. Trust is important."

For a moment she wanted to ask about his ex. He'd said he'd been cheated on and the reporter in Celeste wanted more details. But she figured she'd pushed this unusual, dogmatic, fractious man far enough. "I think I might head for home, while the rain's holding off."

"Sure." He finished his pint in a few big gulps. "I'll cab from here."

"Yes, me too." She picked up her bag. "Should be enough cabs around this time of night."

They left the bar. Celeste had a strange sensation as he held the door open for her. They'd actually had a civilized conversation. No name-calling, sarcasm, or him telling her she didn't belong at Fulham Front. How weird.

Two girls stepped to one side, both looking at Ezra. One nudged the other and giggled. Celeste knew full well they were admiring her boss. Sure, he was handsome in that way that didn't hold vanity and came with a serious case of surliness, but still … they didn't know him and his mean streak.

"Damn, this place is still packed," he said. "We'll have to walk east a couple of streets, nab a taxi on Regent Street.

"That should be okay, don't you think?" She glanced up at the cloud-strewn sky. It was black and ominous. She didn't fancy their chances of making it to Regent Street.

"We'll go quick." Once again, he set his hand on the small of her back. "Come on."

They dodged through the crowds and over puddled curbs at each junction. At a pedestrian crossing, a hundred yards from Regent Street, big raindrops fell around them once more.

"Oh, no." Celeste tightened her bag over her shoulder. "This is all we need."

"Not far now." Ezra ducked his head as the wind gusted around a corner.

The rain increased, falling sheetlike and at an angle. It soaked through her blouse and jeans, and flattened her hair. Her pumps were sodden and peppered with London grit. A taxi with its yellow light on sped past.

"Damn, we could have had that one," Celeste said, almost running now.

"There'll be more." Ezra's hair was also pasted to his head and a drip hung from his chin. "And it looks like there's not too many people around here. We should get lucky."

They came to a halt just as a huge crack of thunder peeled overhead. "Wow." She looked up. "I'll be glad to get home."

When she looked back down, Ezra was staring at her. But not at her face. At her chest.

She followed his line of sight. "Oh, shit." Quickly she crossed her arms over her breasts. Her blouse had turned translucent in the rain and her bra, it seemed, had followed suit. She may as well be topless for all it covered her rounded flesh and hard dark nipples. "Oh, God…" she muttered, a hot flush rising up her spine despite being chilled. "Of all the luck."

He frowned. "Here." He peeled off his wet jacket. "You can't get in a cab like that."

"No. I really can't."

He stepped close and draped the dark jacket over her shoulders. He snatched it in his fist at her sternum regaining her modesty. "That should do the trick."

She stared up at him. He had a raindrop on his nose now as well as his chin, and the thunderous sky cast shadows under his eyes and cheekbones.

A brilliant white light accompanied a fork of lightning shimmying east to west. For a moment he was lit by the spotlight overhead.

A rush of goose bumps attacked her. The rain came down in torrents. But still she stared at his face.

He was dipping his head to hers, coming closer. Closer still. He licked his lips and then his mouth covered hers in a hard, heated, rain-soaked kiss as he tugged her closer using the jacket.

Her heart thudded and her breath hitched. What the hell was going on? She should stop this. Immediately. But something inside yearned for more. His kiss was thorough and needy, full of longing and passion. His tongue stroked hers as he held her firm.

More thunder rolled overhead, the rain beat down, bouncing off the road and pavements. The rush of tires through puddles faded into the distance. Ezra's kiss stole her senses.

And then, as fast as he'd started the kiss he pulled back. His brow was creased into a frown and his eyes narrowed. He released the jacket and turned to the road. In a second, he had his arm in the air and a cab was pulling up.

"Ezra…" she said, shivering with not just cold but also a craving she hadn't known existed until moments ago. "What? I mean … why?"

"Here, get in." He pulled open the door, the lights from the approaching cars caressing his wet shirt that hugged his torso. "I'll get the next one." He looked over her shoulder. "And there's one coming now. Hurry."

She did as instructed, opened her mouth to speak, but the door slammed before she could say a word. It was as if he couldn't get rid of her quick enough.

"Where to, love?"

She told the cabbie her address and held Ezra's jacket tighter over her chest.

"Shouldn't take long," the cabbie said. "This storm has chased everyone home. Roads are empty."

"Great, thanks." She spun and spotted Ezra climbing into a Hackney cab, rain blurring the headlights. She touched her lips which were still tingling from the force of his kiss. His taste lingered, her heart still pounded. Her nipples poked harder at her blouse and she was glad of his jacket to keep her modesty.

****

Celeste spent the night tossing and turning, confusion poking at her thoughts and nipping at her unexpected desires. She had no idea why Ezra had kissed her in the first place, but then to bundle her into a cab and out of his sight so quickly had completely puzzled her. Usually a hot, lust-infused kiss like that would lead somewhere else—a place where things got naked and sweaty really quick.

But the guy didn't like her. He'd made that very clear.

She'd also made it clear she didn't like him or his arsehole attitude.

Except maybe she did a bit. Not the attitude. Him. He clearly had a good side to be so devoted to his sick mother. And worry for his missing friend was screwing with his mind and mood. Had he shown her a glimpse of his real self at the pub? Was there a softness behind what was obviously a hard veneer grown from worry, hurt, and betrayal?

More to the point, was it worth her time finding out if he was a decent person? Sure, he was hot to look at, chiseled, toned, eyes that were worthy of drowning in, but a girl couldn't live on a view alone.

She'd dried his jacket overnight, and arriving at the office early she draped it over the back of his seat then took her own.

April had sent the photograph through and quickly Celeste became lost in writing the story of Raif and Melinda on the red carpet and Melinda's fighting attitude. The words flowed, she told it storylike, hoping to make the reader feel like they were there, standing where Celeste had been standing and taking in all the details.

Eventually, by late morning, the story was done. She hit "send" to Ezra and for the first time looked up to see him at his desk.

Her heart did an annoying little skip at the sight of his broad shoulders, and she tore her eyes from the way his hair curled in small commas at his nape. What was wrong with her?

She needed caffeine, that was all. Mug in hand, she made her way to the kitchen. It was past eleven, way past her normal coffee time.

After putting the kettle on, she rested her hands on the windowsill and stared out at the pigeons once again flying in a group above the rooftops.

An awareness went up her spine. Another presence had arrived in the small kitchen. She turned. Ezra, eyebrows pulled low, mouth set in a sullen line, stared straight at her.

"I just sent the red carpet story through," she said then swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry and her skin tingling.

"It's good. Roland has it already." He opened a cupboard and pulled out a box of ginger and lemon teabags.

"Wow, that was quick."

He kind of huffed and dropped a teabag into a mug. "It didn't happen, okay."

"Er, what didn't happen?" She folded her arms, his angsty tone instantly putting up her guard.

He set his attention firmly on her again. "Yesterday, in the rain…" His mouth twisted. "It didn't happen."

"You mean the kiss?" she said, tipping her chin.

His frown deepened. "Yeah, that … it was stupid. Forget it." He waved his arm in the air dismissively.

"Consider it forgotten." The kettle came to a boil and she added hot water to her coffee mug. "If anyone asks, I'll say ‘what kiss'."

"No one will ask. Jesus, I haven't told anyone … have you?"

"No, I have not. I have a reputation to protect."

"And kissing me would damage it?" He appeared shocked at the suggestion.

"For the record, I didn't kiss you, you kissed me, and yes, since you are a grumpy arse with very few manners, it wouldn't do me any favors in my new workplace to be romantically associated with you." She banged down the kettle and picked up her mug.

"Romantically associated." He let out a harsh sound. "As if."

"Exactly … as if." She flicked her hair over her shoulder and walked past him and out into the main office. Of all the arrogant guys she'd met in journalism, Ezra was the worst.