Sam was on a roll. Halfway through her fourth anecdote about her grandad and the words were flying, her misery temporarily forgotten. Somehow this taciturn stranger had realised exactly what she’d needed. Sam knew the guy wasn’t listening, but it didn’t matter. Only that he was pretending to be interested, so she didn’t look like a total nutter, sitting here talking to herself.
‘Three more minutes.’ His gruff voice sliced through her flow.
‘You’re actually timing me?’
‘A deal’s a deal.’
She wanted to argue, press her point that she’d not agreed to a time limit, but it would cut into the precious minutes. ‘Fine. Last one. Grumps was the one who told me I could do whatever I put my mind to. He’s the reason I took a business degree.’
His eyes swept her face, assessing her. ‘He is, huh? Well, good old Grumps.’
Amusement glittered in the dark eyes that stared back at her, and the flutter she’d felt when he’d clasped her hand returned with a vengeance, sending a rush of desire surging through her. Raw, primal, it was unlike anything she’d felt before. She was used to the slow burn. A building attraction that morphed into desire over time, once she’d got to know someone. Friends to lovers. And then to enemies, she remembered bitterly, before shaking away the thought.
She’d never be friends with this stranger. He was too dour, too surly, but heaven help her, she fancied him. Clearly champagne had lowered her threshold for finding men attractive. Either that or her libido, after being thoroughly decimated eighteen months ago, was starting to pull itself together.
The guy continued to stare, his amusement fading. ‘I don’t care what degree you did.’
‘Right, okay. Of course you don’t.’ The heat from his eyes was making her skin prick.
‘Don’t care what your name is, either,’ he added roughly.
‘Fine.’ The dismissive tone was at odds with the intense expression on his face. She started to turn away, confused by his mixed messages and her acute reaction to him, when he cleared his throat, his lips curving in a half smile.
‘All I care about is whether your bedroom is less of a shithole than mine.’
Shocked, she almost fell off the stool. As her heart bounced against her ribs, she grabbed hold of the bar. ‘Pardon?’
His mouth opened, as if he was about to reply, then slammed shut again. God, what was wrong with her that, despite his crude statement, she wanted to feel those lips on her skin?
Suddenly he grabbed at his beer and swallowed the rest down in one, long, gulp. ‘Forget it. It’s been fun, Champagne Lady, but I’m off.’
‘That’s it?’ Disappointment crashed through her, making her blurt the next words without thinking. ‘What about my bedroom?’
His cheeks reddened. ‘Dumb move.’ He shifted off the stool, his movements tight and jerky. ‘Blame the beer.’
She could blame the champagne for what she was about to say, but Sam knew that would be a lie. The alcohol only made it easier to be brave. ‘So, you’re not interested in how my bedroom stacks on the shithole scale?’
His eyes flashed. ‘Piss off.’
He snatched at the brown leather jacket draped over the back of the stool. Sam had a brief sense of height and bulk – hard, muscular bulk – before he turned and headed for the exit.
She should leave it at that. He was embarrassed and she’d compounded it by making it appear like she was teasing him, when actually she’d been trying to come on to him. Looks like they were both useless when it came to the art of propositioning.
Yet her eyes wouldn’t stray from his broad shoulders as he cut his way through the now heaving pub.
What would Grumps have said? Life is for living, Sam. One day you’ll wake up and be as old as me.
Making a snap decision she jumped down from the stool. One night. It’s all she wanted. A night when she could remember what it felt like to be a sexually attractive woman.
‘Wait!’
She caught up with him as he was about to cross the road outside the pub. Her breath caught as he halted and slowly turned to face her. He’d shrugged on his jacket and jammed his hands into the pockets, a scowl still on his face. At five foot ten, it wasn’t often Sam came across men who made her feel small. Not that this guy was excessively tall – she’d put him at six-two, maybe three. Yet the shoulders that strained against the leather of the jacket, the broken nose and the whole brooding thing he had going on, gave him a dangerous vibe. He looked big and mean. Intimidating. A bull, facing down the matador.
‘What?’
Maybe this was a bad idea. Inviting this guy to her place was pure insanity. But he pretended to listen while you talked about your grandad.
‘You planning on saying anything?’
He quirked a brow and she was relieved to see he seemed more irritated than angry now.
‘Sorry.’ She waved her hands about uselessly. ‘I think somehow I’ve offended you and I wanted you to know that it wasn’t my intention.’
‘You haven’t.’ His eyes drifted over her shoulder, the muscle in his jaw twitching.
‘Then why did you run away?’
‘Jesus.’ He inhaled slowly, then let it out in a hiss. ‘I tried a clumsy come-on, you shot me down. No big deal.’
‘I didn’t.’ When no reply came, she elaborated. ‘I said pardon, not no.’
‘Right.’ The muscle jumped again. ‘And is pardon code for yes now?’
‘Pardon means—’
‘I know what it means.’ He drew in another sharp breath. ‘You surely didn’t need me to repeat what I’d just said. It was fucking embarrassing enough the first time.’
‘You’re right, I didn’t.’ It was her turn for the deep breath. Come on, Sam, this isn’t hard. Take the jump. Live a little. ‘I said it to cover my surprise. Given longer to think, what I’d have actually asked is: do you want to come back with me because you hate your place? Or because you want me?’
The simmering anger faded. ‘Look, lady, I want to go back with you because you’re hot.’ He shrugged those impressive shoulders. ‘I mean, you talk too much, so we won’t be heading down the aisle, but you’re seriously hot. The chance to get away from my shithole for a while is a bonus.’
His words incited a zing of excitement. ‘You’re not my type, either. Too quiet and you don’t smile enough. But I find myself strangely attracted to you.’
‘Yeah? Does that mean we’re heading to yours?’ When she nodded, he started to laugh. ‘Well, lead the way, Champagne Lady.’
Ryan couldn’t believe his luck. One minute he’d been going back to his dump with his tail between his legs, dragging his battered ego behind him. Next, he was walking down the road with an elegant lady, about to get laid. Not that his godawful chat-up line deserved such an outcome but hey, he wasn’t about to complain. Either Champagne Lady was desperate – hard to imagine, looking like she did – or she fancied lowering her standards for the night. Lucky him.
Of course, there was a third option.
He glanced sideways at her. She was walking in a straight line, wasn’t she? A moment later, as if to prove how biased his judgement was, she stumbled. He shot out a hand and grabbed at her arm.
‘Thanks.’ She darted him an embarrassed smile and pointed to her sexy high shoes. ‘I don’t usually go to the pub in a black suit. I should have changed. At least put on some flat shoes. No woman in their right mind decides to get drunk while wearing heels.’
Damn it. He lurched to a stop, which, as he was still clutching her arm, brought her to a halt too. ‘Tell me you’re not drunk.’
She nibbled on her bottom lip, sending bolts of lust surging through him. ‘Umm, I’m not drunk?’
The wide-eyed look she gave him was cute, a mix of mischief and innocence, and he cursed under his breath. ‘Look, you’ve been drinking so I need to know this isn’t going to come back and bite me on the arse later.’ He held her by the shoulders, staring down at her. ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’
‘I thought we were going back to my place to screw like bunnies.’ Her mouth curved in a sexy smile. ‘That’s a sentence I didn’t think I’d ever say.’
Not unfocused, he decided. Her eyes were sexy as hell, but not unfocused. Still, his conscience pushed him. ‘You’re not going to wake up tomorrow morning with a bucketload of regrets? Cursing me for taking advantage?’
‘I’m going to curse you for ruining the mood if you carry on like this.’ She wasn’t just getting annoyed now, he noted with alarm, she was becoming agitated.
Way to go, Ryan Black. First man in history to talk himself out of getting laid. His hands still on her shoulders, he looked past the eyes that had held him transfixed, and down to the rapid rise and fall of her chest. The enticing curve of her cleavage, peeping out of the V of her blouse. No way was he going to blow this. No bloody way. Dipping his head – with her heels on, he didn’t have too far to bend – he kissed her.
She gasped, but he swallowed whatever she was going to say as he pressed his mouth more firmly, teasing her lips open with his tongue so he could dive into the heat of her. He groaned as he got his first taste. Champagne. And those bloody rainbows. Far sweeter than he’d thought, yet even more intoxicating. Desire ripped through him and he dropped a hand to her back, then lower, to the curve of her buttocks, pressing her against the part of him that ached and throbbed.
Mind fogged with lust, he continued to drive them both crazy right there, on the pavement, until a shrill wolf whistle and the unsubtle cry of ‘get a room’ broke his stride just enough for sanity to return. Breathing heavily, he eased back. ‘How’s your mood now?’ he asked hoarsely.
Her lips, swollen from his kisses, broke into a grin. ‘Back on track.’
‘Good. Let’s get to your place before I balls this up again.’
Dimly he noticed they were headed to the posh end of town. The opposite direction to the way he’d come. He’d had to get on a tube for a few stops in order to find a pub he was reasonably confident he wouldn’t get stabbed in. Just when he was about to ask how much further – her heels looked hell to walk in – she turned off the high street and into a smart side road where a cluster of elegant Georgian townhouses surrounded a small green.
She halted outside the second house. ‘I’m, umm, in this one.’
‘Nice.’
‘Yes.’ He knew her nerves had reappeared when she wouldn’t look him in the eye. ‘You’re not like an axe murderer or anything, are you?’
He made a play of opening his jacket and looking in the inside pocket. ‘No axe today.’
Her smile looked strained. ‘Sorry, you can probably tell, I’m not used to doing this.’
‘Sex?’
It got the smile he’d hoped for. ‘Sex I can manage. It’s bringing a guy I don’t know back to mine that’s giving me the heebie-jeebies.’
Yet again, he felt the evening slipping away from him. ‘If it helps, I’m no expert at this either.’
‘You’re not?’
He wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or insulted at her obvious surprise. ‘You couldn’t tell from my smooth pick-up line?’ Because he didn’t want to dwell on that again, he added, ‘We can always go back to mine, instead.’ Though he shuddered at the thought.
‘The shithole?’
‘Yeah. Bed’s comfy.’ He’d made sure of it. Renting a furnished dive was bad enough. He wasn’t going to sleep on a mattress that rats had partied on.
‘No, we’re good here.’
She shifted from foot to foot and he knew, despite her words, she was still debating. He reached into his jeans pocket and drew out his wallet. ‘Would it help if I told you my name and address? Showed you some ID?’
‘No.’ She pushed his hand away, all that shiny red hair bouncing around her shoulders as she shook her head. ‘I kind of like that we don’t know each other.’
‘You got a sex-with-a-stranger kink going on?’ He didn’t mind that. Didn’t mind it at all.
‘I don’t think so. More recovering from a shitty breakup and not ready to date but I miss sex.’
Reassured, he clasped her hand. ‘Then let’s get you laid.’
She laughed softly. ‘Not exactly Mr Romantic, are you?’
He watched as she opened the heavy black door and stepped into the hallway. ‘Thought you wanted a one-night stand?’
She glanced up at him beneath her lashes. ‘I do.’
Placing his hands beneath her buttocks he lifted her and marched them to the nearest wall. There he pushed her against it, settling his hips between her legs. His arousal against her core. ‘Then who needs romance?’ He asked roughly, before plundering her mouth.
Her legs – he had a flash of bunched skirt and long, shapely leg – wrapped around him, sending further jolts of heat through him. As he continued to kiss her, he pushed the jacket off her shoulders and started to undo the buttons of her blouse. Christ, if he wasn’t careful, he wouldn’t even get to her bedroom. Panting like a dog on heat, he drew back and let her legs slide slowly back to the ground. ‘What floor are you on?’
‘Third.’ At least she looked and sounded as turned on as he did.
‘Okay then.’ Three flights of stairs. Nothing to a man who worked out like he did, yet right now it felt like he had to climb Everest.
But then he looked at her flushed cheeks, her glittering blue eyes. The rise and fall of a pair of glorious lace-covered breasts, now partly exposed by his wandering hands. Climbing Everest was a small price to pay for spending the night with this woman.