Her Playboy Crush

by Nicola Marsh

  Numbers were her life, statistical analysis her forte. She loved the cold, hard logic when numbers coalesced into factual brilliance. But a number-crunching role at her old university the last few years hadn’t been satisfying so she’d taken the drastic step of quitting.

  Archie had been shocked by her impulsiveness; she’d shocked herself. But then, while setting up a job-seeker profile on a site, she’d seen the ad for a job in Sydney’s leading fashion house and had been hooked. Logically, it didn’t make sense applying for a job far beneath her pay grade and level of expertise. But she’d been bored in her old workplace and this one glittered like a shiny new bauble in front of her, just out of reach...so she’d done the second crazy thing in a month and applied.

  She’d been hired after saying all the right things, but ultimately she had a bigger goal—to combine her two great loves, figures and fashion. Working as a PA to Sizzle’s CEO was a step towards her dream job: ensuring Sizzle became the foremost fashion house in Sydney and beyond. She knew she could do it. But first she had to wow the boss from hell during her three-month trial.

  No one could believe she’d landed a job at hip Sizzle. Her, the geekiest of the geeks. It had been fortuitous spotting the ad, but her favourite uni lecturer had also called to tell her about the job opening. He knew Andrina, knew Polly was bored assisting statistics lecturers amid crunching probabilities and outcomes, and knew of her not-so-secret passion for fashion magazines.

  When he’d mentioned a possible job as Andrina’s PA, Polly had thanked him and hadn’t hesitated. Combining her two loves would be a dream come true. There was only one problem. Well, several, but the major one was that she was a dork with no sense of style. She’d never had it, which was why she’d spent the bulk of her teenage years poring over fashion mags, escaping into the glossy world she craved but could never have.

  She was denim and cotton whereas every Sizzle employee was leather and lace. She’d pretended it didn’t matter at the start, but the ongoing sniggers behind her back, and Andrina’s condescension, had her questioning the wisdom of following this path.

  But then she would come in here, breathe in the intoxicating fabrics and steel her backbone to face another day. Another day filled with the stress of ensuring the fundraiser gala that Sizzle was sponsoring went off without a hitch.

  The fundraiser for which she was responsible.

  Polly knew the stakes. If the fundraiser was a success, Andrina would listen to her pitch for statistical glory. Fail, and she’d probably be out on her ass.

  To make matters worse, Ryder was back in town and determined to make her life hell. If he dared show up here, she’d throttle him.

  But that would mean getting close enough to wrap her hands around his neck and considering how badly she’d wanted to jump him at Archie’s that morning... Hell, why couldn’t she have a crush on gorgeous movie stars instead? Ryder was almost in the same league and just as unobtainable.

  It had been bad enough he’d tease her incessantly when they’d been teens. Now he’d added flirting to the mix, she didn’t stand a hope.

  Because when a guy like Ryder looked at her like he was genuinely interested, when he nipped her ear, when he almost kissed her, it made a sensible girl like her think decidedly insensible thoughts.

  No red-blooded woman in her right mind wouldn’t find Ryder attractive with his dark brown, just-out-of-bed hair, his stunning hazel eyes with the perpetual twinkle, his killer smile and hot bod. Ryder was a walking, talking fantasy.

  And she’d had more than a few of those.

  That was the only downside to her glossy mag fetish: seeing photos of Ryder. Ryder in a tux, Ryder at the polo, Ryder on stage delivering his famed motivational speeches, and the worst, Ryder squiring stunning women to various events.

  He’d been in her face, silently taunting her, from the pages of magazines or on the internet. Now he was back, bigger, bolder and more brazen than ever.

  She was in big trouble.

  Not because she thought Ryder would seriously make a move—she knew he valued his friendship with Archie too much to do that—but because faking indifference all these years had taken its toll.

  She couldn’t fake it any longer.

  ‘Polly, where the hell are you?’ Andrina’s screech, clearly audible through the thick steel door, made Polly want to climb into the accessories trunk and shut the lid.

  Taking a deep breath to steel her inevitably shaky nerves around her boss, she opened the door. ‘I’m right here, Andrina.’

  The CEO’s disapproving glare zeroed in on her from twenty paces away, where she stood at the semi-circular reception desk, hands on hips. ‘Get your lazy ass over here and give me a rundown of the guest speakers for the fundraiser.’

  Uh-oh.

  Polly had tried schmoozing celebs on the phone, she’d taken a soap star to lunch and had sat through high tea at Sydney’s plushest hotel with the most self-absorbed talk show host on the planet. But none of them had agreed to speak at the fundraiser, which meant she was about to get yet another ass-kicking from Andrina for her pathetic negotiating skills.

  Hating how Andrina berated her in public, Polly trudged towards her, wishing she’d worn heels rather than ballet flats today. Andrina towered over her at five-ten; add the four-inch stilettos she wore daily and Polly was at her most vulnerable.

  The closer she got to her boss, the more Polly’s gut tightened. Andrina—no last name, trade secret apparently—looked formidable in her sprayed-on red leather pants, black bustier and signature bold make-up. Combined with the back-combed, teased bouffant, she looked like a giant.

  ‘Well? Who have you got lined up?’ Andrina snapped, her heavily emerald-kohled eyes narrowing.

  ‘Uh...’

  As if her day couldn’t get any shittier, Ryder chose that moment to stride into Sizzle’s showroom.

  Andrina caught sight of him a moment later and Polly braced for a verbal flaying once her boss learned he was there to see her. Instead, a miracle happened. Andrina lost the perma-frown and her lips uncurled from their residual sneer.

  ‘Ryder Beale, it’s a pleasure to meet you.’ Andrina stuck out her hand as Polly wished the floor would open up and swallow her. ‘Andrina, at your service.’

  Polly’s nose wrinkled at the thought of Andrina, service and Ryder in the same sentence.

  Thankfully, Ryder didn’t make a smartass remark directed at her. He shook Andrina’s hand and flashed his most practised charming smile.

  ‘Nice to meet you.’ He shot Polly a subtle WTF glance when Andrina took for ever to release his hand.

  ‘See, Polly? Ryder is just the type of guest speaker you should be organising for our fundraiser, if you weren’t so incompetent.’ Andrina’s predatory gaze swept Ryder from head to foot. ‘He’s perfect.’

  Ryder rarely showed any emotion other than his usual laid-back charm. She’d never seen him angry or riled. But that changed as Polly saw colour suffuse his cheeks at Andrina’s putdown and a small part of her wanted to hug him for being outraged on her behalf.

  ‘Actually, Polly is extremely competent.’ Ryder edged away from Andrina and closer to Polly. ‘In fact, she’s the only reason I agreed to be a guest speaker for your fundraiser.’

  The blood drained from Polly’s head and made her sway slightly. Had Ryder just done what she thought he’d done?

  ‘That’s why I’m here, to finalise details with Polly,’ Ryder continued, blithely unaware of how he’d dumped her further in the crap.

  Because when she had to come clean to Andrina eventually, that Ryder wasn’t on board, she’d be out of here so fast her head wouldn’t stop spinning for a week.

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ Andrina said, still staring at Ryder like she wanted to gobble him whole. ‘Who knew Polly had it in her to woo a speaker of your calibre?’

  Ryder bristled, his shoulde
rs drawing back like he was about to enter a boxing ring. ‘Maybe if you knew the capabilities of your staff better, you’d know Polly is brilliant at whatever she puts her mind to.’

  Polly progressed from wanting to hug Ryder to wanting to kiss him.

  ‘Well, yes, she’s new but—’

  ‘Polly and I have things to discuss,’ he said, cutting Andrina off and Polly almost laughed out loud as her boss’s stunned expression gave way to outrage. ‘I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her so you should remember that the next time you put down your staff in front of strangers.’

  Kiss Ryder? Hell, Polly was ready to leap into his arms, wrap her legs around his waist and do him on the foyer floor.

  Eager to escape before Andrina fired her regardless, Polly gestured to her shoebox office. ‘Please come with me, Mr Beale.’

  ‘Lead the way, Miss Scanlon.’ Ryder winked as he turned his back on Andrina and Polly had to suppress a giggle.

  But her amusement soon faded as they reached her office and Ryder closed the door, immediately shrinking the small space, and faced her.

  ‘You can thank me later,’ he said, that familiar teasing glint in his eyes. ‘Over dinner.’

  Polly shook her head and pointed at the foyer, where Andrina still eyed them curiously through the small glass window of her office door.

  ‘What the hell were you thinking?’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘WHAT’S THAT?’ POLLY GLARED at the bottle of champagne Ryder had ordered like it was poison as a waiter placed it on their table with two flutes.

  ‘France’s finest.’ Ryder had counted on bubbles still being Polly’s drink of choice. Because the way she’d berated him during the three-minute walk to this gourmet pub, he needed all the help he could get. ‘Thought you might be thirsty after that verbal flaying you just gave me.’

  ‘You deserved it.’ Her eyes narrowed as he handed her a filled flute. ‘And don’t think for one minute this will soften me up.’

  ‘What will?’ He clinked glasses with her and tried not to focus on the way her lips pressed against her flute. ‘Because I’ll do it. Whatever you want. Get down on my knees and beg forgiveness. Crawl across cut glass. Rub your feet every night and morning for the next decade.’

  To his delight, she blushed. ‘You have no idea the pile of shit you’ve dumped me in.’

  ‘Considering the way that bitch of a boss treated you, I think I do.’ He shook his head, hating that he’d been privy to a dressing-down. Nobody deserved to be spoken to that way, and especially not in front of other people. ‘Why do you let her talk to you like that?’

  ‘Because not all of us can be charming playboys swanning their way around the world with the luck of the devil.’ Her eyes narrowed, almost like she despised him. But then he glimpsed the sadness behind her stare and knew she was channelling false bravado so he wouldn’t pity her. ‘Some of us have to work.’

  ‘I work,’ he said, well aware of how the public viewed his fortunate life.

  Travelling the world, delivering motivational speeches to large crowds, hired by celebrities for life coaching. He mixed in interesting circles and to many it would appear he led an exciting, glamorous life.

  If they only knew.

  ‘Yeah, spouting your cookie-cutter psychobabble for the gullible. Like that’s work.’ She snorted. ‘Give me a break.’

  A sliver of hurt lodged deep. He’d worked his ass off when he’d busted his leg—a bad break that had ended the adrenaline-fuelled pastimes he loved, closely followed by a close call with death that haunted him most nights when he woke drenched in sweat and consumed by guilt.

  He could’ve taken the easy route and resumed his old lifestyle. That was the one thing he could thank his emotionless grandparents for—a sizable trust fund enabling him to do whatever he pleased. Instead, he’d completed his psychology degree, a subject that had always fascinated him courtesy of his dysfunctional upbringing.

  Sure, he’d traded on his infamy after escaping death in the accident, getting gigs other graduates wouldn’t. He’d found his niche fast, motivating others to give one hundred percent and ultimately improve their lives.

  That was three years ago and in that time he’d become a renowned motivational speaker in demand worldwide. He had more validation than he could’ve wished for. So why did the opinion of one woman matter so damn much?

  He’d known he would see her this trip; planning Archie’s thirtieth ensured it. But he’d expected their occasional social meetings to go the same way they had the last few years: a bit of witty repartee, some good-natured teasing and not a hint of sexual tension.

  But Polly had shot that plan to shit when she’d looked at him with desire rather than derision after he’d pushed his luck and pulled that stunt of nibbling on her ear. She’d changed the boundaries of their longstanding friendship earlier today—so had he, by nibbling her ear in the first place—and he’d known then nothing would be the same again.

  He downed the rest of his champagne, hating the acid burn. He’d always been a lager man. ‘I am giving you a break.’ He rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward. ‘By saving your pretty little ass, remember?’

  Her intriguing blush was back, evoking naughty thoughts of how far it extended when she got excited. ‘You really want to be a guest speaker at a fundraiser for a fashion house?’

  ‘Why not?’ He shrugged. ‘I’m in town for a while.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘As long as it takes.’

  ‘For what?’ Her gaze locked on his, tentative yet interested, and he decided to push the boundaries again.

  ‘To get you to agree to a date with me.’

  He threw it out there, daring her to verbalise what had happened between them at Archie’s that morning, trying to gauge her reaction to it and whether she’d be amenable to more, a lot more. Starting with the two of them naked and ending with her screaming his name.

  ‘Yeah, right.’ She rolled her eyes, the beguiling colour suffusing her cheeks intensifying. ‘What’s the real reason?’

  Her complete disdain made him doubt his earlier assessment of the shift between them. At Archie’s, he could’ve sworn she felt the spark and wanted to fan it into a flaming inferno. Now? It looked like she’d rather go on a girls’ weekend with Andrina than hang out with him.

  Perhaps she didn’t think he wanted to take her out. Then again, he’d never given her any reason to. It wasn’t her fault he’d lusted after her for years and had had a momentary lapse of his tenuous self-control this morning, causing a major shift in their friendship. She probably thought he was teasing as usual.

  He should set the record straight.

  But what could he say? I’ve been having naughty fantasies about you for years and the moment I saw you today with your ass in the air all I could think about was fucking you?

  The way she continued to stare at him with suspicion, it was clear that now wasn’t the time to reveal that particular gem, so he settled for a safer answer. ‘I’m sticking around for a while because I’m writing a book.’

  Her eyebrows shot up. ‘Seriously?’

  He nodded. ‘A motivational self-help guide.’

  Something he hoped would help survivors of trauma, like him. He’d been guilt-ridden at the time, knowing he should’ve died in that car accident had it not been for a twist of fate. He’d been listless, aimless, disinterested, until Archie had given him a pep talk via a video conference call and he’d woken the hell up. ‘I’ve got a publisher lined up.’

  ‘Good for you,’ she said, and actually sounded like she meant it. ‘But about the fundraiser—’

  ‘I was trying to save your ass back there, but if you don’t want me...’ He managed to look suitably humble, while inside he yearned to hear her say she wanted him.

  They cared about each other as friends, always had.
She’d welcomed him into her home as much as Archie and their mother Babs, when he’d gravitated towards the Scanlons as a coping mechanism for the icy, frigid ambience at home. His grandmother had gone into emotional lockdown after Pop had died, and at the time when he’d needed her most she hadn’t been there for him.

  Archie and Polly had been his best friends, their lack of artifice and normality a big drawcard considering the pretentious twats at school. They’d been buddies, but things had changed in their teens. He became aware of her as a woman, a woman he wanted but couldn’t have.

  He hadn’t seen her much during his brief visits to Sydney before the accident. Archie would organise a dinner or drinks at the pub to get them together and while Ryder would look forward to seeing her, he’d also regret it when she continued to be immune to him while he still lusted after her.

  He’d wondered if his yearning for her would’ve waned over the five years he’d been away. But it hadn’t, and now he wanted her more than ever.

  He shouldn’t pursue her because nothing had changed. She was still Archie’s sister and technically off limits. But since cheating death, he found he wanted to make the most of every moment and not live with regrets. He dated extensively because of it, enjoying life to the max. And right now, with Polly returning his interest for the first time, he knew he’d regret it if he didn’t make a move.

  Oblivious to his tumultuous thoughts, she said, ‘It’s a charity gig so we can’t pay you.’ Her fingers traced gouges in the wood of the table. ‘And we’d have to work together a fair bit, coordinating your speech so it fits with the image Andrina wants to portray for the evening.’

  Work with Polly one on one? He had to bite down hard to prevent himself from grinning. When he’d impulsively jumped in to save her from that unjust lambasting her bitch of a boss had given her, he hadn’t envisaged all the consequences, namely spending time with this intriguing woman who’d become his number one challenge.

  He managed a diffident shrug. ‘Sounds doable.’