Love to Hate You

Chapter Nine - The Calm

'Why are we leaving so early?' Mattie grumbled, as Rafe stood at her front door.

'Because York is a long way away, and we have a two o'clock meeting. If the traffic's bad, we'll be glad we left first thing.'

'I won't be. Godless hour,' she mumbled, dazedly slipping on her flat shoes. She always wore flat shoes, even though she was vertically challenged. Rafe liked women in heels. He liked tall women, because he was tall. He liked a pair of long, endless legs, and a good set of shapely calves, shown off to their best advantage, by a pair of killer heels. He should have been disappointed that Mattie's legs were only marginally longer than his arms, but irritatingly, her figure seemed to suit her; her lack of stature only served to make her snarky personality cute, in a tigress way, rather than a towering bitchiness.

'Why don't you ever wear heels?' he asked, watching as Mattie hopped about like an oaf, somehow struggling to put on a pair of slip-on ballet pumps.

'Heels? I'm not a masochist, Rafe. If it's not a very special occasion, I'm wearing flats!' His lip quirked at that, because he was a man, and the word "masochist" made him think of sex. 'Plus, have you seen where I live? I need to be able to run from the Tube if I see someone shifty, and I don't run in heels. Everyone knows you get murdered if you run in heels. All the best Hollywood films tell us that.' Rafe frowned, ignoring her muttering, and glanced back over his shoulder at her street. He didn't like the look of it. Nor did he like her little flat. He supposed having its own front door was meant to be an advantage; possibly one she paid extra for, but he could only look at it as a security risk.

'Lived here long?' he asked, trying to keep the note of disapproval from his voice.

'About a year. My last place was nicer, but the landlord put the rent up. I'm ready, now.' He nodded, and watched her yank her front door closed; watched her try to slam it repeatedly, as the door refused to sit neatly in its warped frame.

'Do you want some help?'

'I've got it; there's a knack to it.' She didn't appear to have the knack, as far as Rafe was concerned. Eventually, Mattie managed to close her front door, and quietly locked it with two keys, before picking up her bag, and heading down the front steps to the street. Surreptitiously, Rafe leant a heavy palm against the supposedly-secure door, and felt it flex and lurch. He wasn't happy about that. 'Where's your car, then? What do you drive?' Mattie called out, expecting to see something flashy; something with "knob" written all over it.

'Just there; the Discovery.' Well, that didn't have "knob" written all over it, at all.

'A Land Rover?' she asked, pleasantly surprised; glad it wasn't a dreadful sports car.

'I'm an architect; I like to have something suitable for site visits.' Mattie nodded her head in agreement.

'That's very sensible.'

'I'm glad you approve,' Rafe said, sardonically, as he slipped neatly into the driver's seat. 'Buckle up.'

'Is this your only car, Rafe?' Mattie asked, after they'd spent five minutes weaving about the traffic.

'Yes, why?'

'Chris drives a Maserati.'

'Chris is an idiot.' Mattie nodded her silent agreement.

'I prefer this,' she said, at length.

'No doubt,' Rafe drawled. 'You're short. You probably need the elevated driving position. Do you drive?' Bristling at Rafe's little dig, she turned to him and hissed, –