by Anne Oliver
Levering herself off him, she collapsed onto the bed, trying not to worry about how wobbly she felt.
The slow, sad pull of loneliness that had bugged her recently had no business raising its ugly head right now. There was no room for anything other than sexual satisfaction at this precise moment.
He turned to look at her and the jubilant expression on his face made her heart turn over.
Down, girl.
‘Seriously, that was incredible. It was exactly what I needed,’ he said, rubbing a hand over his eyes, then flopping it down onto the bed next to him, a wide, satisfied grin splashed across his face.
She took a deep controlling breath, suddenly terrified by a disorientating muddle of thoughts and feelings that hurtled through her head.
Surely the end of a one-night stand wasn’t supposed to feel like this—so...melancholy. She should be bouncing out of there with a spring in her step, not mooching about like a lost puppy, desperate for more attention.
From out of nowhere, the nervy fear about the meeting in the morning came back to hit her with full force in the chest.
What the hell was she doing?
She should get out of there. Right now.
‘Okay, well, good,’ she said shakily, sitting up and swinging her legs over the bed. ‘I’m gonna get going.’
She felt the bed dip behind her as he rolled onto his side and grabbed his glasses off the nightstand.
‘You’re leaving? Right now?’
‘I have things to do tomorrow.’ She couldn’t look at him in case he saw the bewildering swirl of emotion she was battling to hide.
She couldn’t stay, not if she had any chance of staying sane.
And, anyway, Tristan would probably freak out if she started acting like this was anything other than a one-night stand.
Better to cut her losses and go now.
She jumped up off the bed and went over to where their clothes lay in a muddled heap on the floor. Flinging his things out of the way, she located all of hers and pulled them on quickly, intensely aware of his gaze on her back.
‘What? I gave you such an incredible orgasm there’s no point in even trying to top it?’ His tone was jokey, but she detected a faintly indignant twang.
She laughed despite herself. ‘I’ll certainly never forget it.’ She turned back to look at him and took a step towards where he now sat on the edge of the bed, keeping a couple of feet between them. Maintaining a safe distance from that tantalising body of his. ‘But I get the feeling you wouldn’t be interested in a sleepover.’
‘Well, no—’
‘And, to be honest, I’m not a good bedfellow anyway. I move around a lot. And I steal the sheets. I’d keep you awake and you’d regret even suggesting it.’
He was frowning now, clearly baffled by her word vomit.
‘It’s okay, Louise, I wasn’t suggesting that.’
She sighed and rubbed a hand over her forehead, feeling downright sleazy now for not telling him her real name. ‘It’s been fun, Tristan. Really good fun, but I think it’s best if I don’t hang around.’
Argh, how were you meant to do this kind of thing without sounding like a prude or a heinous bitch?
* * *
Tristan stood up and caught hold of Lu’s arm as she turned to go. ‘Hey, wait.’ Drawing her towards him, he bent to kiss her again for the last time, attempting to make it a kiss she’d never forget.
The groan she gave in the back of her throat made him think he’d succeeded.
He felt discombobulated by her sudden need to depart and wanted to slow her down, keep her for a bit longer, even if it was only for one extra minute.
Breaking away, she gave him a look of pure regret. ‘I’m not going to be able to leave if you keep doing things like that.’
He smiled. ‘That’s the idea.’
Her gaze flitted to the floor and his stomach sank as he realised he’d said the wrong thing. This was a one-night-only thing. That was all he’d thought he wanted—until he’d found how sexually explosive they were together. Now he wanted to suggest he stayed in London for an extra day so they could spend one more night together—one very long night—to give them the chance to explore exactly how much more fun they could conjure up between them.
Letting her go now seemed like such a travesty.
Apparently Lu didn’t share his view.
She stepped forwards to give him one last soft kiss on the lips, then turned and walked swiftly away, closing the door quietly behind her.
And then she was gone.
After showering, he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, trying to ignore the way his body seemed desperate for more of Lu’s intensive attention. His eyes looked brighter than normal and his skin was flushed and glowing. That was what a good, hard bout of amazing sex did to you. It made you look and feel alive. Something he’d been missing for a while now.
He’d been surprised by how much he’d loved the way Lu had taken control. Normally he was the one leading things in the bedroom—it had never occurred to him not to—and he’d been pleasantly surprised by just how much he’d liked it when she took over. And by how willing he was to trust her. Maybe it was because he had to be responsible in every other part of his life; handing control over to someone else for a change had been liberating.
Going back into the bedroom, he gathered up his clothes from the floor. His gaze caught on something the size and shape of a credit card as it fell out from the folds of his shirt. He scooped it up and looked at it. It was a driver’s licence. Louise must have dropped it out of her bag when she went looking for condoms. A feeling of euphoria rose in his chest. He might have just found a reason to contact her again.
Turning it over, he glanced quickly at the cute picture of Lu before reading the name underneath it.
Tallulah Lazenby.
His whole body went cold as the name sank into his brain. Why was it so familiar? And why was he experiencing this sick, sinking feeling?
Grabbing his laptop, he opened up the mail from his father giving him the details for the meeting at the radio station tomorrow. He scanned the text until his eyes alighted on the name of the woman his father wanted to fire.
Tallulah Lazenby.
She’d told him her name was Louise.
She’d lied to him.
His mind flitted back to all the moments that evening where she’d seemed to correct herself or change up her performance with him.
She’d known who he was all along—deliberately latching onto him and seducing him, perhaps hoping he’d think twice before firing her from her job.
He’d been played for a fool. Again.
Flinging the card across the room, he flopped down onto the bed, furious with himself for being stupid enough to think this had been one of those genuinely serendipitous events.
Hot humiliation washed through him, followed by icy anger. It felt just as bad as when he’d found out Marcy had been cheating on him.
No. Worse.
This had been a deliberate plan to manipulate him.
That was why she’d choked when they’d first met; she must have seen a picture of him somewhere. His father had been known to include photos of his family members in his press releases if he thought it would benefit his businesses—to promote himself as a trustworthy employer with family values. What a joke that was.
And he’d told her his name. He had a sudden memory flash of what he’d thought was her deciding whether to talk to him or not. She must have been deciding how best to get one over on him.
Damn it. How had he allowed himself to be taken for such a fool?
Pulling the sheet over him in frustration, he attempted to settle his still frustratingly aroused body into a comfortable sleeping position.
One thing was
for sure, it was going to be a very interesting meeting tomorrow.
THREE
The next morning, Lula held her thumping head in her hands as her bus made slow progress towards Covent Garden.
How could she have thought it was a good idea to have such a wild night when she had to go into work this morning and defend herself against King Dong Jez?
Clearly something had snapped in her tiny, overwrought brain.
Not that she exactly regretted her time spent with Tristan.
A warm wave of pleasure swept through her body as she remembered how great he’d tasted, all musky and earthy and sweet. Like salted caramel and strong coffee and sex. Delicious. Her taste buds tingled in response to the sensory memory. He’d smelt amazing too, like fresh linen and spicy shaving gel and cleanness.
If only she could bottle his amazing scent and market it, it’d probably sell out in minutes and make her a fortune. She’d never need to work again.
Not that she did it for the money. Ever since she’d discovered the buzz of pride and sense of accomplishment she got from hosting a radio show she’d been totally focused on getting to where she was today.
She couldn’t have this job snatched away from her now; it would break her heart.
Alighting from the bus, she put her sunglasses on to protect her poor tired eyes against the bright spring sunshine and shoved her way through the crowded shopping streets of Covent Garden.
After some expert ducking and dodging, she made it to the quieter end where the radio station was housed on the top floor of an old converted red-brick warehouse. Climbing the innumerable stairs, she felt her heart thudding against her ribcage in protest at the intense cardio workout. She wanted to go home, put her head under her pillow and blot out the rest of the day, but she knew she had to pull up her big girl pants and face whatever was in store for her today.
There was no running away from this mess.
Her stomach rumbled and flipped over as she walked into the sharply stylish, über contemporary reception area, which always smelled wonderfully of fresh coffee and the amazing Danish pastries that Flora the Receptionist kept strictly for visitors to the station.
She remembered with regret how she hadn’t even had time to grab breakfast after sleeping through her alarm and having to scramble into the shower then throw on the first set of smart clothes that came to hand. There hadn’t even been time for pain relief—she’d desperately rifled through the medicine cupboard only to find she was out of paracetamol—so now she was going to have to sit through her meeting with a churning stomach and a head that felt as if someone was banging a thousand tiny hammers against it.
As she was standing there contemplating her fate, one of the broadcast assistants walked past her into reception carrying what smelled like a hot bacon sandwich and she nearly fell to her knees with need.
‘Claire? I will love you for ever and have your darling babies if you let me buy that from you,’ she gasped, her eyes glued to the potential lifeline in Claire’s hand.
‘Sorry, Lula, no can do.’ Claire smiled apologetically. ‘This is for the Big Cheese that’s here for your meeting. He’s been prowling round the station like a disgruntled tiger since he got here and I daren’t be much longer or he might bite my head off and eat that instead.’
Ugh! This morning got worse and worse. Now it looked as if she was going to have to sit in a room and watch her bad-tempered judge and juror chomp his way through breakfast nectar while her own stomach shrivelled to nothing—right before she was unceremoniously fired.
‘God, he sounds like a monster,’ she muttered, looking at Claire beseechingly, hoping for some little titbit to prepare her for what lay in wait behind the conference room door.
‘He probably just got out of bed the wrong side today,’ Claire said, shrugging one shoulder. She leaned in closer to Lula and dropped her voice. ‘He’s younger than I was expecting and much better-looking.’ From the twinkle in her eye, Lula could tell Claire was a little awestruck.
‘I thought he was in his sixties? Jez told me their fathers are friends from their University days,’ Lula said, frowning at the inconsistency. She’d never seen Claire swoon over anyone past the age of thirty-five, let alone someone old enough to be her grandfather.
‘This guy’s his son. The father’s on his honeymoon somewhere in deepest Asia so the son’s stepped in to take your meeting. He runs the family business up in Scotland, I think. Didn’t you see the mailshot everyone was forwarding around the other month with a picture of the two of them? I thought Flora was going to have an orgasm right there in her chair when she saw it.’
‘No, I didn’t see that one.’ Lula sighed and rubbed a hand over her eyes, not in the mood for joking around when her whole body felt strung out with tension. ‘I should have been told someone else was taking the meeting,’ she muttered, irritation making her voice croaky.
Bloody Jez. He’d probably kept her in the dark deliberately to back-foot her.
Claire dropped her smile and nodded in agreement. ‘That’s our illustrious leader for you; not exactly a great disseminator of information.’
‘Except when he’s being “wronged”; then you can’t shut the man up,’ Lula stated, not even trying to hide her bitterness.
Claire knew all about Jez and his philandering, manipulative ways and she’d been working on the broadcast assistant’s desk when he’d come in and told Lula he was giving her show to Darla.
‘Good luck in your meeting,’ Claire said, resting a hand gently on Lula’s shoulder and giving her a supportive smile.
Lula got the impression a lot of the staff members were on her side, even if most of them hadn’t said anything directly to her for fear of word getting back to Jez and losing their jobs too, but the thought gave her a tiny surge of courage.
‘Hey, perhaps this guy will give Jez the old heave-ho and step into the breach himself?’ Claire added, gazing longingly at the closed conference room door. ‘I have to say, despite the crankiness, I wouldn’t mind him sticking around here for a bit. Total eye candy.’ She wiggled her eyebrows, gave Lula one last smile, then turned and walked off to deliver the food to the man in question.
Lula sighed and rubbed at the corners of her temple where the pain had concentrated. Great. Now she was facing a sex god boss with a bacon sandwich. Could things get any worse?
* * *
Tristan wasn’t exactly at his best and brightest.
After tossing and turning for hours, he’d woken early that morning, his head spinning with dreams about Tallulah, and even pounding away on the running machine in the hotel gym hadn’t relieved any of the frustration that still clung to him.
He’d arrived at the radio station at eight-thirty, eager to get this mess wrapped up and back to some real work, expecting to catch Jez straight after he’d finished presenting his Breakfast Show.
Apparently Jez had had other ideas though, skipping out straight after his show finished, leaving word that he had another meeting to attend before he could see Tristan.
It had not improved Tristan’s temper. The guy knew how to take liberties, that was for sure.
To pass the time before his meeting with Tallulah, he’d looked round the station and chatted to some of the staff—who seemed friendly and happy with how Jez ran things there—and was now stationed in the migraine-inducing canary-yellow conference room, attempting to answer some emails before she turned up.
He was barely able to concentrate on what he was doing as flashes of the night before kept interrupting his thoughts. Every time he remembered something else she’d said or done to entice him to sleep with her, his frustration levels rose another notch.
She’d totally played him.
Abandoning his emails, he stood up and paced around the room, glancing out of the window to stare blankly towards the thronging
streets of Covent Garden below.
The most infuriating thing was that he’d genuinely liked her.
A lot.
Recalling how she’d made him laugh last night gave him a hollow ache in his chest, followed swiftly by a low sensual pull deep in his pelvis as his thoughts moved onto how she’d pushed him against the wall and run her tongue all over him, her cool hands stroking him to fever pitch...
Damn it. He really needed to stop thinking about her in that way. He was supposed to be conducting a serious interview with her in a minute and he needed to keep things professional.
For the sake of his pride, if nothing else.
He ran a hand carefully over his hair, smoothing a few rogue strands back into place, then sat back in his chair, stretching out his tense back and shoulders. He wasn’t going to let her get to him again with those pseudo-innocent eyes and soft pouty lips. Or the sweet intoxicating way she smelled. Or the way she moved that spectacular body of hers...
His thoughts were interrupted by one of the staff members bringing in the breakfast he’d requested and placing it reverentially onto the table in front of him.
He smiled at her. ‘Thanks.’
Her cautious nod and tentative returning smile made him frown as he watched her leave the room. Perhaps he’d been a bit fierce with them all this morning? He wasn’t exactly in the best mood to meet new people. Or maybe they were worried about their own positions here. After all, it looked as though it had been a while since anyone had audited the station—Jez had been pretty much left to his own devices—and, in his experience, the staff didn’t like it when new people were introduced to the equation. It usually meant change.
He’d take a look at the accounts as well while he was here, so he could satisfy himself he’d done a thorough job. He hated leaving loose ends.
Looking down at the food he’d ordered, he realised he wasn’t actually hungry any more. Pushing it to one side, he checked the time on his phone.
