James Fraser was intelligent, rich and very good looking. He was tall with red flaming hair and eyes as blue as the ocean. He was a true gentleman: He had all the traits a woman would want in a man, while he was vain in moments it was part of his overall charms. He was a published writer, with a unique play on words and a fanbase full of ladies.
One of his favourite activities was to walk down the street and see the women's reactions to his appeal: always a smile, sometimes a wink. It amused him as much as it flattered his ego.
He was quite content leading a bachelor life, with a new girl on his arm every week and had no intention to change it but life doesn't always go as expected.
His morning coffee was always free. The barista, another one under his spell, would drop her panties the second he would ask her to and he knew it very well.
This morning was no different.
After his early workout, he went to his usual spot and spent a good chunk of his time, leaning against the counter discussing with the barista in question. She was in her early twenties, long blonde hair, hanging to every one of his words and giggling for no reason. Today, he learned her name: Laoghaire.
Of course, she had “read all his books” and had been inspired to be a writer, thanks to his works. Physically, she was just his type, however, he was sure she would never publish a book in her life.
Behind him, Claire Beauchamp was annoyed.
A renowned brain surgeon, she spent the largest part of her night doing an emergency surgery on a patient and as much as she wanted to sleep, she had to get back to the hospital to finish her shift. She needed a coffee to survive this shift as much as she needed the air that filled her lungs.
Claire observed the scene in front of her: the good-looking guy, aware of his charms, flirting with the dumb roll and making her feel his muscles. She rolled her eyes so hard that she was surprised they didn't get stuck in her skull. The tall stranger in tight gym clothes was the barista's only preoccupation: she had completely forgotten the other customers, growing impatient too. Claire waited for a bit, her British politeness taking over. However, after ten minutes of this and a few attempts of frustrated noises and grunts, it did not help her case. Claire had decided she had had enough.
Patting the stranger's shoulder, she cleared her throat "Excuse me," She said in her thick British accent.
Jamie turned around, his signature charming smile on his face and a coffee in hand: "Aye just a minute and I'm yers, sweetheart."
The nerves, she thought.
"Look, sweetheart," She started, with a sarcastic smile.
"Some of us have actual work to do and it would be much appreciated if you could stop distracting the lady over here. You're going to get her number anyway and you," she said pointing at the barista, "Stop playing hard to get, you're practically drooling all over your apron."
She grabbed the coffee out of his hand and deposited a 5-pound bill in his top front pocket before turning on her feet and disappearing. Claire usually didn't like to make a scene but she was tired and just wanted her caffeine fix so she could finish her shift and go home. To bed.
Jamie blinked, speechless and watched her leave. No other women had ever talked to him like this before.
Laoghaire snorted, "What a trollop, I'm no’ drooling! Let me make ye another coffee, Jamie." She purred his name, battling her eyelashes but he wasn't listening. All his thoughts were now on the Sassenach.
Surely with her white lab coat, she was a doctor. However, he had no time to read her tag to know her name. Damn it.
His head had not yet recovered that his feet were already well on their way, leaving Laoghaire without an answer and bitter.
Spotting the curly head doctor in the crowd, he quickly caught up to her and stopped in front of her.
Surprised but not really shocked, she sipped his former coffee and raised her eyebrow, "I'm not giving you your coffee back and even less my number. Now please move, I'm already late," Circling him, she started to make her way to the hospital.
"Wait! What’s yer name?" He asked in a desperate plea behind her as he attempted to grab any information he could about her.
Looking over her shoulder, she answered: "It's none of your business, Casanova!"
With that, she left him, standing in the middle of the sidewalk with his mouth hanging wide open.
His first ever rejection from a woman.
He never believed in love, and even less at first sight, but Jamie Fraser felt something in the pit of his stomach and he knew he was hooked.