Backstage Heat (Lies for a Living Book 1) by Lissa Bilyk

Author:Lissa Bilyk [Bilyk, Lissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-04-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The perfect place was one of the Australian pubs situated in London. It looked like a typical British pub, but out the front hung an Australian flag and another flag, with a yellow background and a green kangaroo on the front wearing boxing gloves.

“Oh, this is definitely my kind of place,” Cam said as he held the door open for me. For some reason I felt nervous – I wasn’t the pub-type kind of girl, so my brazen suggestion had even surprised me. I ran through my limited knowledge of alcohol, trying to decide the classiest drink to order. Cam put his hand on the small of my back and guided me to the bar. I felt his touch burning through my clothing.

Inside the house was warm and cosy, with a wood fire in one corner and a few blokes up at the bar having a drink. Several couples were partaking in a late night dinner. A widescreen TV played Aussie Rules football, but with the season well and truly over it was clearly a replay, and probably just a highlights match. A jukebox played in another corner, although I didn’t know the song.

Cam ordered a Sambuca and turned to me. I looked up at him in panic, my face burning in shame. He chuckled, put his hand over mine, and said, “Let’s start you off with something easy, okay?” He turned to the bartender, a sweet-faced blonde girl, and said, “Vodka and orange for the lady.”

“I’m sorry,” I muttered once the bartender turned away. “I don’t know what I like.”

“What were you drinking the night you sang to me?”

I felt my face heat up even more, if that was even possible. “I wasn’t singing to you,” I blustered, unable to make eye contact. “And Juliet had me doing shots of some kind of banana liquor. I don’t know, but it was okay.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not pressuring you to drink. If you don’t like this, I’ll just get you a Coke, okay?”

“Diet Coke,” I corrected him, leaning into him. He put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed me ever so gently.

“Whatever you want, princess.”

The bartender placed our glasses in front of us. Cam’s drink was clear, whereas mine looked safe. Gingerly I picked it up and took a sniff. I could smell the vodka, and it was offensive to my nostrils. I put the straw between my lips and pulled. The orange juice hit first, sweet and little sour, and then the vodka came after that, dull and heavy. It wasn’t my favourite thing to drink, but I could manage. I wasn’t about to send it back in favour of a soft drink, like a child. I was just as grown up and adult as Cameron Campbell, even if I had never slept with anyone before, nor set foot in a pub, nor even knew what I liked to drink.

He watched me, his eyes piercing straight to my soul.

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