The Man Ban - Nicola Marsh Page 0,3

people hungry, and they don’t want to stand around admiring the food; they want to eat it.”

Her top teeth caught her bottom lip, and the damnedest thing happened. He wanted to do the same. Right here, right now. His gaze riveted to her mouth; the bow shape of it, glossed in crimson, the fullness. Man, he needed to get laid ASAP if watching a prickly woman gnaw unconsciously on her lip had him wanting to take her in the nearest private space.

She waged an inner battle. He saw it reflected in her expressive eyes, torn between berating him for his opinions and applauding. The war didn’t last long—those luscious lips curved in a slow smile that had him sucking in air.

“I’m not hungry. Are you?”

Where had that sultry edge in her tone come from?

He shook his head. “No.”

At least, not for food, but he wisely kept that gem to himself.

“Good, then let’s get some fresh air.”

She held out her hand, and rather than ponder her switch from bristly to flirty, he grasped it in his, ready for her to lead him wherever the hell she wanted.

3

The moment Manny took hold of her hand, Harper had to resist the urge to yank him closer and knee him in the balls.

She thought she’d grown immune to insults since her vitiligo diagnosis thirteen months ago. Not that there’d been many, but she’d never forgotten her first phototherapy session to treat the white patches on her face and body. Being blasted with high ultraviolet rays for eighty seconds to re-pigment her skin hadn’t been bad, but it meant she couldn’t wear makeup entering the clinic. She’d felt naked striding into that place, and when a few teens skateboarding outside had fired off insults, it had hurt more than it should.

They were being smart-asses, trying to outdo their friends, so it shouldn’t have registered. But every time she entered that clinic, three times a week, she made sure she wore her hair out so it half covered her face, along with a cap, and the minute her treatment was over she’d slather on foundation before heading out.

Like those bigmouth teens, Manny’s insults regarding her food styling should’ve meant nothing too. But he’d hit her where she was most vulnerable—her floundering job—and she wanted to teach him a lesson.

She could’ve reacted by telling him where he could stick his opinions. But when she’d seen the way he looked at her mouth, like he wanted to devour her whole, she’d come up with another form of payback that would be much more fun.

If she could pull it off, that is.

Not dating for a year meant her flirting skills were subpar. She’d never been much good to begin with, so stringing him along for a little while would be challenging. But oh so fun, she thought as he fell into step beside her. She led him through a side door she’d used earlier when placing her tools of trade back in her car.

“Should I be worried?”

She hated to admit his deep voice did something to her insides, and it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “About?”

“You’re dragging me away from hundreds of people into a dark alley. Maybe you’re about to take advantage of me?”

“You wish,” she muttered, and he laughed, the rich timbre of his chuckles as appealing as his damn voice.

“I like you, Harper, even if the feeling’s not entirely mutual.”

She arched a brow. “What makes you say that?”

“A hunch.” He paused to close the door behind them, leaving them on a landing with six steps leading to a small car park beyond. “I’m just glad there were no carving forks on that buffet table, because I had the distinct impression you wanted to stab me in the eye with one.”

Genuine laughter burst from her lips. Was there anything more attractive than a cute guy with a killer sense of humor?

“It’s been a long day.” She shrugged, dislodging the end of her sari again, and this time when he corrected it his fingertips brushed the bare skin of her upper arm, sending a skitter of heat through her.

“Phew.” His hand swiped across his forehead in exaggerated relief. “At least it’s not me.”

“Oh, it’s you too,” she said, but this time they shared a conspiratorial smile devoid of ill feeling on her part.

“So what are we doing out here?” He surveyed the parking lot and the small row of shops beyond, mostly the Vietnamese cafés this area was famous for.

“Already told you, getting fresh air.”

“You could’ve picked a better spot.”

“Yeah,