by Kim Lawrence
‘Turn around,’ came the low command.
Her back stiffened some more. Another man who wanted to push her buttons. ‘Look, I just want to be left alone—’
‘Turn around, if you please,’ he instructed again in that low, growly voice.
Not please but if you please. The slightly old-fashioned turn of phrase piqued her curiosity. Coupled with the dark rumble of his voice, Perla was seriously tempted to do as he asked.
But not enough to give in. She remained facing forward.
‘I just saved you from becoming the potential target of a chancer with delusions of swagger. The least you can do is turn around and talk to me.’
Despite her stomach flipping again at the impact of his voice, Perla’s lips tightened. ‘I didn’t want nor need your help...and I don’t really want to talk to anyone so...’
She glanced towards the bartender with the intention of cancelling her order. The long drive here...the inspired words she’d hoped to write...the idea of a quick drink...the courage-lending scarlet lipstick—probably that most of all—had all been an unmitigated disaster. Again she felt pain tighten her chest and fought to keep her emotions under strict control.
Behind her, the man who thought he was her saviour stood in imposing, stifling silence. She knew he was there because his scent lingered in her nostrils—intriguingly spicy, masculine and raw—and she could hear his firm, steady breathing. Again an alien sensation skittered over her skin. The urge to look over her shoulder scythed through her but she refused the urge. She’d failed herself in so many things. Perla refused to fail at this one thing.
Lifting her hand, she tried to catch the bartender’s attention but his gaze was focused behind her...on the man whose presence, even without her knowing who he was or her having seen him, spelled power with a capital P.
She watched in stunned silence as the bartender nodded in answer to a silent command, rounded the counter with her drink and headed towards a dark corner of the bar.
Outraged, Perla finally turned to find the man—tall, dark-haired and incredibly broad-shouldered—retreating to the table where her drink had been placed along with another, presumably his.
Pure anger spiked through her. Her heels landed on the polished wood floor and she was marching over to him before she fully registered her intention. ‘What the hell do you think you’re—?’
He turned to face her and the words dried in Perla’s throat.
Gorgeous. Astoundingly. Gorgeous. The description lit up like a neon sign in her head—bright, bold, insistent. And so unbelievably real, Perla could only stare in astonishment. Even as she took in the sheer vitality of his olive skin, the lethal bone structure that made up his striking features and the tinge of grey in his hair and designer stubble—her personal, stupidly debilitating weakness—she knew she should never have turned around; never have followed him.
She should’ve heeded her instinct and walked straight out.
Dear Lord, hadn’t she learned from her mistake? She gave a slight shake of her head and tried to step back. She had no business being here; no business staring at a man the way she was staring at this stranger. If anyone found out...
Move!
Her feet wouldn’t comply.
Deep hazel eyes bored into hers, then slowly traced her body from head to toe and back again. Perla found herself holding her breath, her fingers once again working frantically over the beads on her handbag.
The breathtaking stranger’s gaze paused at her hair. ‘Is that colour real?’ he rasped in that knee-weakening, pulse-stroking voice.
‘Excuse me?’
‘That shade of red. Is it real?’ he demanded.
A little bit of her entrancement receded. ‘Of course it’s real. Why would I dye—?’ She stopped as it occurred to her then that he didn’t know her and therefore wouldn’t know that the last thing she concerned herself with was vanity in the form of artificial hair colour. There was no one to please or pander to and she was too busy surviving to think about frivolous things such as what colour to dye her hair. ‘It’s real, okay? Now will you explain what you’re playing at? That’s my drink you’ve just commandeered.’
‘Your manners seemed to have deserted you. I’m merely redressing the situation.’ He pulled out a chair. ‘Please sit down.’
Lifting an eyebrow, she remained standing.
With a shrug, he remained standing too.
She blew out an irritated breath. ‘My manners haven’t deserted me. You stepped in and took over a situation I had under control. What did you think, that the bartender would’ve vaulted over the counter and assaulted me in plain sight of the other customers?’ she snapped.
He broke his fascination with her hair and dropped his gaze to capture hers. ‘What other customers?’ he asked.
‘The couple over there—’ She broke off as she looked around. The young couple were gone. Aside from a waiter who was clearing a few other tables, only the tall stranger and bartender remained in the bar. As she watched, the waiter walked through a set of swinging doors and disappeared.
She swallowed. ‘This is a reputable place. Things like that don’t happen here.’
‘And what exactly do you base that statistic on? Are you a frequent visitor?’
She flushed. ‘No, of course not. And I’m not naïve. I just...I just think—’
‘That predators in Savile Row suits are less vicious than those in hoodies?’ His smile didn’t reach his eyes.
‘No, that’s not what I meant. I came here for a quiet drink.’ Her gaze dropped to the bold and garish-looking cocktail standing next to his dark-coloured spirit.
This was fast getting out of hand, and she needed to think about getting back. Or she would have more explaining to do.
He indicated the chair one more time. ‘You can still have it. And you needn’t worry about making conversation. We can sit here and not...talk.’
His words piqued her curiosity. Or maybe she just wanted a distraction from the pain and chaos that awaited her the moment she left this place.
She forced herself to look at him—really look past the surface hurt-your-eyes gorgeousness of the man—past the powerful shoulders underneath the impeccable suit and loosened silk tie. His hair was slightly ruffled, as if he’d shoved a hand through it once or twice.
The brackets around his mouth were deeply grooved and when she chanced another look into his eyes, what Perla glimpsed made her heart hammer.
In that instant she knew he wasn’t here to prey on unsuspecting or vulnerable women. That wasn’t to say women would be safe from the sensual aura and sheer charisma that oozed from him. Far from it.
But for tonight, in this very moment, whoever this man was, the emotions lurking in his eyes weren’t of a predatory nature. The pain she saw resonated with her on so deep a level, she found it hard to breathe through it.
His eyes narrowed, as if sensing the direction of her thoughts. He stiffened and his mouth firmed. For a moment she thought he was going to change his mind about his earlier invitation.
Abruptly he moved a step forward, touched the back of the chair. ‘Sit down. Please,’ he repeated.
Perla sat. In silence, he pushed her drink towards her.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured.
He inclined his head and raised his glass towards her. ‘To not talking.’
She touched her glass to his; a surreal feeling overtook her as she stared at him over the rim of her glass and took a sip of her cocktail. The potent alcohol hit the back of her throat, warming and cooling at the same time. The tartness of the pomegranate burst on her tongue, making her close her eyes in a single moment of pleasure before the strength of his scrutiny propelled her eyelids back open.
Once again, he seemed fascinated with her hair. It took every ounce of self-control s
he possessed not to fiddle with it. She sucked harder on her straw, partly to finish the drink quicker so she could leave and partly because it gave her something to do other than stare at this hauntingly beautiful man.
They sipped their drinks in silence.
With a very unsettling amount of regret, Perla set her empty glass down.
The stranger followed suit. ‘Thank you.’
‘For what?’
‘For controlling the urge to indulge in idle chit-chat.’
‘I told you, that’s not what I came here for. If it was, I’d have brought a friend. Or come earlier when I knew there would be more people here. I presume you chose this time for the same reason.’
A shaft of pain flitted over his features but was gone in the next instant. ‘You presume correct.’
She shrugged. ‘Then there’s no need to thank me.’
He stilled, the only movement his gaze as it flew once again to her hair. When it traced down to her mouth, Perla became very much aware of the scarlet lipstick. Before she could stop herself, she licked her tingling lower lip.
His low hiss was an alien sound that sent a fresh wave of goose bumps over her skin. She’d never elicited such a reaction in a man before. Perla wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or terrified.
‘Are you staying here, at Macdonald Hall?’ she asked, in the hope of deflecting the unsettling feeling his hiss had elicited.
The stranger’s hand tightened slowly into a fist on the table. ‘For tonight and the next few nights, yes.’
She looked from his hand to his face. ‘Why do I get the feeling that you don’t want to be here?’ she asked.
‘Because we don’t always get to decide our own fate. But I’m obliged to be here for the next few days. It doesn’t mean I’m pleased about it.’
She glanced at his empty glass. ‘Then I suppose you’ll be upgrading to a bottle instead of a glass shortly?’
He shrugged. ‘Drinking is one way of making the time pass faster, I suppose.’
Danger crawled across her skin, sparking a flame in her belly, but Perla couldn’t move. ‘When you’re alone in a bar at almost midnight, I don’t really see much else to entertain you.’ Her voice emerged huskier than she’d ever heard it.
He raised a dark eyebrow. ‘But I’m not alone. Not any more. I’ve saved you, a damsel in distress, and my reward is your company for now.’
‘I’m not a damsel in distress. Besides, you don’t know me from a blade of grass. I could be one of those predators you described, for all you know, Mr...?’
Her blatant demand for his name went unanswered as he nodded to the bartender and indicated their empty glasses.
‘I don’t think I should have another drink—’
Hooded hazel eyes trapped hers. ‘But we’re just getting to know one another. You were telling me about being a ruthless predator.’
‘And you wanted to be alone less than ten minutes ago, remember? Besides, what makes you think I want to get to know you?’
His small smile was both self-assured and self-pitying, a curious, intriguing combination. ‘I don’t. Forgive me for the assumption. If you wish you leave, you may do so.’
Again the courteous words laced with arrogance set her teeth on edge. But Perla found she couldn’t look away from the fascinating man, whose extremely powerful aura held a wealth of pain and sadness that drew her...made her hesitate.
She licked her lips and immediately regretted it when his gaze latched onto the movement. ‘I don’t need your permission but I...I’ll stay for another drink.’
He nodded solemnly. ‘Efharisto.’ The way his voice and sensual lips formed the word made her stomach perform an annoying little flip.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Greek, for thank you.’
‘Oh, you’re Greek? I love Greece. I visited Santorini a long time ago for the wedding of a client. I remember thinking at the time it’s where I’d like to get married one day. That has got to rank up there as one of the most beautiful places on earth—’ Perla drew to a sharp halt as his face tightened suddenly. ‘I’m sorry. Mindless chit-chat?’
One corner of his mouth lifted. ‘It’s not as mindless as I thought it would be. So you love Greece. What else do you love?’
Her gaze dropped to the table, then immediately rose to meet his, almost against her will. ‘Is this the part where I say long walks in the rain with that special someone?’
‘Only if it’s true. Personally, I detest the rain. I prefer wall-to-wall sunshine. And the sea.’
‘And the special someone is optional?’
That look she’d caught on his face earlier returned—the cross between ragged pain and guilt—and this time it stayed for several moments before he shrugged.
‘If you’re lucky enough to have the choice, and to hang onto your good fortune.’
She bit her lip but was stopped from answering as the bartender delivered their order. Again silence ensued as they sipped their drinks. Only this time, when his gaze travelled over her, she boldly watched him back.
The silvery strands that blended into his temples coupled with the designer stubble gave him a seriously gorgeous but distinctly imposing look that sent her heart thudding faster. He looked vaguely familiar. Mentally shrugging, Perla concluded she must have seen him in the newspaper or on TV. His air of importance and easy way he commanded power lent itself to that theory. And, of course, he was here, at Macdonald Hall, one of the most exclusive private sport clubs in the country.
His fingers curled around his glass and she watched him lift his drink to his lips, his gaze staying on hers. Heat rushed through her, filling her up in places she’d begun to think were frozen forever. Perla tried to tell herself it was the alcohol but in an angry rush of rejection she forced herself to face the truth. She was done lying to herself, to glossing over the bare truth in order to lessen her pain.
No more!
She was attracted to this man. To his gorgeous, pain-etched face, the haunted hazel eyes, the strong stubbled jaw she wanted to run her fingers over just to see if it felt as rough as his manly, callused fingers. The mental pictures reeling through her head should’ve shocked and shamed her. But, for tonight, Perla was determined to suspend shame. And really, when had looking been a crime? And he was as exquisite a specimen as any.
‘Be careful, little one. This big, bad wolf has vicious, merciless teeth.’
The softly voiced caution ripped her from her thoughts.
What was she doing?
In a rush, she put down her barely touched drink, stood up and snatched her handbag. ‘I...you’re right. Caution is usually my middle name so, um...thanks for the drink.’ Her tongue felt thick with the lack of knowledge of the proper etiquette. ‘And for the company.’
Her breath caught when he stood to tower over her. ‘Did you drive here?’ he demanded.
‘Yes, but I barely touched my second drink and—’
‘My driver will deliver you home.’
A mixture of fear and anxiety roiled through her. Imagine the gossip if she returned home in a strange man’s car! Granted it was almost midnight but it would only take one sighting for the rumour mill to spin into overdrive. She had enough on her plate to deal with as it was.
‘No. That’s very kind of you but it’s not necessary.’
His striking, very hypnotic eyes narrowed. In that moment, all Perla noticed were his insanely thick eyelashes and the way his mouth turned down when he was displeased. The urge to take that look from his face shocked her into stepping back. When she took another step back, he followed.
‘Let me at least walk you to your car.’
‘I’m perfectly capable—’
‘That wasn’t a suggestion.’
‘Didn’t you warn me about Savile-Row-dre
ssed predators a short while ago?’
That sad, almost haunted smile made another appearance. Those endlessly fascinating fingers delved into his bespoke jacket and emerged with his smartphone. He tapped the three-digit emergency number into it and extended it to her, pointing to the dial button. ‘Hit that button if I so much as exhale the wrong way between here and your car. But make no mistake, I’m walking you out of here and seeing you into your car.’
With a shaky hand, she took his phone. His fingers brushed then stilled against hers. Warmth infused her. Without thinking, she rubbed her fingers against his and heard his sharp intake of breath as he fell into step beside her.
The walk to her car took minutes but it felt like the longest walk of her life. Beside her, the tall, dark and dangerous stranger lessened his significantly long stride to match hers. Over and over again, Perla felt the heat of his gaze travel over her. She forced herself not to glance at him. To do so would’ve wavered her intent, made her give in to the intensely mortifying need that had taken root inside her.
But, with each dreaded step to her car, Perla felt as if she was fighting a losing battle. What had she achieved by coming here? So far, a big fat nothing. She hadn’t even broached the task she would give everything not to have to deal with. A task she would’ve given everything not to return to.
Surely it wasn’t wrong to make this moment with this perfect stranger last a little longer? She gave an inward sigh.
Who was she kidding? Fate had stuck two fingers up to her over and over. Why should tonight be any different?
She stopped beside her car and turned towards him. With a deep breath, she held out his phone. ‘I told you this wasn’t necessary. But again, thanks.’
He barely glanced at the gadget. ‘You’re not out of danger yet.’
She looked up into his face. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, her voice a touch too breathless.
He stepped closer, his body heat slamming into her, making her head spin. ‘Hang onto it for a little while longer. I don’t want to end our conversation, not just yet.’
