Bargain in Bronze

by Natalie Anderson

  “Soon.”

  “So that’s why you didn’t Google me,” he joked to bring her smile back.

  “Yeah,” she went along with it. “And you weren’t worth breaking the ‘no personal Internet use’ rule at work for. So no cyber stalking for me.” She scrubbed her hands and got out several chopping boards and that stupidly small knife. The dried apricot dicing began.

  “Why cut by hand?” He pointed out the industrial food processor.

  “It’s better chopped by hand. One too many presses of the pulse button of that machine would make it pulp rather than bite-size pieces.”

  “But it takes so much time.”

  “I have time.”

  Really? When she worked full time and ran her business on the side? “Then how do you fit in time for—” He broke off, temporarily blinded by the dangerous glitter in her eyes.

  He got the no kisses rule, but did that mean personal talk was a no go area too? “Your commitment to the circus,” he finished slyly. “Knife throwing and stuff with strong Serge.”

  She almost smiled. “I’ve retired from the circus.”

  Had she now? Serge too? He reached forward and snaffled one of the dried apricots. It didn’t look like a normal orange apricot to him, but was a much darker color. “Why’s that? You get hurt by the knife or the strong guy?”

  “Why think I was hurt?” She chopped faster, louder. “Maybe it’s just that I’m too busy.”

  “Taking all the time to dice dried apricots by hand? That’s not too busy, that’s extreme avoidance.”

  “It’s dedication to making the best product I can.”

  It was avoidance. Why did she have knife-edged barriers up when she’d been as into that kiss as he had? The incandescent reaction between them was only going to worsen the more they saw each other. It was stronger already—he couldn’t believe it wasn’t the same for her. And he planned to do something about it. Soon.

  He didn’t have time to put into a relationship. It wasn’t fair on a girlfriend. And frankly, he knew loss—intimately—and he didn’t want any more of that. Keeping an eye on Tom and Anne was more than enough. But what he hadn’t had—in too long—was a little fun. There hadn’t been time. He’d abandoned his degree and gotten on with work, taking over the family art and antiques store. Then he’d bought his first building and refurbished it, spearheading the revitalization of that block and beginning his commercial property portfolio. He’d worked crazy hours. Through half the night while his siblings slept, rousing Tom to go to training in the early hours before snatching a couple of hours sleep before getting his sister up and on track for school. It wasn’t a time he wanted to revisit. He’d been so tired. But he still worked hard, caught in the habit—and the drive to achieve security for his family still pushed him. So there’d only been one-nighters, the briefest of flings, and nothing in recent months.

  Now Libby Harris had him thinking about fun. All the time.

  “How much can you make in a night?” he asked.

  “A couple of batches. Enough for Tom.”

  “What about to fulfill your orders at the organic supermarkets?”

  “That’s going to take a little longer.”

  Good. He wanted more time. “You can’t give up the day job?” He grabbed another apricot. “Copywriting?”

  She nodded. She was definitely avoiding looking at him. “Local council.”

  “No wonder you’re good at telling tales in tight situations,” he teased.

  It drew a smile from her. “The tales I get to tell at work aren’t nearly as exciting. It’s puff pieces on litter collection or something.”

  “So you invent to make them more entertaining?” He laughed. “I bet you come up with some crazy stuff.”

  “Most boarding school girls have good imaginations,” she said mock primly. “Sometimes it’s the only way to survive.”

  Boarding school girl? He glanced at her and for once their gaze met, meshed—clashed.

  Heat unmistakably flared, the charged silence thickened. But then she turned away. He was sure she wanted him. But didn’t want to want him.

  Jack pulled up a stool and sat, flicking through his emails on his iPad. He was confident enough in himself—in that kiss—to know it wasn’t him, but something within her making her skittish. He was going to have to take it easy, but keep up the tease until she couldn’t resist it any longer. He was sure it would happen…sure he wasn’t alone in feeling this pull. All good things came to those who waited, right? And he’d be waiting right here.

  …

  The second night he arrived before her. Wearing jeans and tee again—the casual outfit emphasizing his flat abs, long legs, and a butt meant for grabbing. Libby inwardly groaned. Spending four hours in his presence last night had been hard enough. She’d tried not to look at him too much but it was difficult when he kept chatting and laughing and being the ultimate in charming. She’d hardly slept. Remembering his smile, his gentle teasing.

  Every interaction sharpened her attraction like long strokes of a knife on steel—the pull tightened her nerves and pushed her towards succumbing to the heat. She sighed, trying to push out the tension and gather her self-control. She didn’t want to have to walk away from this opportunity with the kitchen. She wanted to do something with her life—to help someone, lots of people ideally. She wanted to give something to society. Because she wouldn’t fall in love. She wouldn’t have a family. She’d make a difference in another way. Helping Tom would be something. Getting her product back on the shelves would be something more. It was a healthy option. People might benefit and that would be wonderful.

  But Jack made her think about other things—intimacies and personal pleasures that she’d denied herself for a long time. She didn’t want to open up that part of herself to someone so overpowering.

  “If you’re going to insist on staying here while I work, the least you can do is make yourself useful,” she said firmly, deciding to take control of the situation tonight. There’d be no swapping secrets or life stories—or worse, flirting.

  “I have my own work to do, thanks,” he held up his iPad.

  “Do you have to do it here?” Why couldn’t he leave her to get on with it and come back to lock up at a fixed time?

  “Yeah. I do.” Mr. Uncompromising.

  Because he still didn’t trust her?

  “Does my being here bother you?”

  She swallowed. “Of course not. I just thought if you have work to do…”

  “I can do what I need to here.”

  She shouldn’t have started this conversation—it was going nowhere anyway. He just being all immovable man. Damn. Because just looking at him had her coming over hot.

  “You don’t have a business partner?” he asked once she was underway.

  “No,” she said. “My uni friends love my muesli but they think I’m mad for putting so much into it.”

  “Any sort of success requires sacrifice at some level,” he said. “Is that why you’ve no boyfriend?”

  She looked at him, trying to stay cool. “Possibly.”

  “There must be an endless queue though.”

  “There’s no need for the flattery.” She tried to shut the topic down. “I’m making enough muesli to last Tom ten years.”

  “But there must be.” He ignored her and insisted.

  She picked up a cloth and wiped some spilled syrup from the bench. “No, there was only the one.”

  “One?”

  “At university. I finally got out of the all girls’ boarding school and found some freedom.”

  “I thought the all girls boarding schools were where it was all at.”

  “It’s not like those bad movies you know. They’re just a male fantasy.”

  “Tell me more.” He came round to her side of the counter.

  “There’s nothing to tell.” She wiped the top more vigorously. She didn’t need him standing so close—she could smell the soap he’d used. She could sense his heat—a
nd she could remember his strength.

  It made her weak.

  “Of course there is. Why did you break up with him?”

  “It was getting too serious.” Good, remember the mess it had been. Remind yourself you don’t want a fling.

  “He was getting too serious?”

  She stopped wiping. “Yes.”

  “Serious how? He wanted to marry you?”

  She nodded.

  “So he proposed and you broke up with him?”

  Why did he look so surprised? “We wanted different things,” she said firmly. “It was for the best.”

  “So you don’t want serious?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? Most women are searching the world for serious aren’t they?”

  “Not everyone, no.”

  His eyes narrowed. “This isn’t one of your tall tales?”

  How totally insulting. “Why is it that men have sole dibs on just wanting fun? On not wanting commitment?”

  He ignored her sarcastic tone and weighed the question seriously. “I think most men who don’t want commitment have serious reasons for not wanting it.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Such as?”

  “Fear. Bad experience. So they don’t want to be hurt or betrayed again.”

  Libby’s curiosity soared. Had anyone betrayed him? She couldn’t imagine any woman being so stupid. “Maybe it’s just that they can get it easily from any number of women so why should they just settle for one?” That was way more likely in his case.

  “I don’t think there are many men who actually want that for long. Casual isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

  That shocked her—he was a no commitment guy wasn’t he? “What is it that stops you from the c-word?”

  “Inconvenience,” he answered bluntly. “This isn’t the right time in my life. I’ve still got too much else I need to do for my business and for the family I have.”

  She’d been right. “So it’s not that some woman once minced your heart with her stilettos?”

  He chuckled. “No. There hasn’t been a girlfriend who meant that much to me.”

  Oh. She frowned. The guy was twenty-nine and he’d never had a serious girlfriend?

  She pulled the muesli from the oven—perfectly toasted. She stirred the hazelnuts through—picking up a spare that had fallen on the bench and tossing it up to catch it in her mouth.

  “What other circus skills you got?” Jack purred. “Trapeze?”

  She glanced at him standing so close and so determinedly tempting that an imp took over her mouth. “You want to know if I can do the splits three ways?”

  “I—” The stunned look he threw her was so worth it.

  She smirked, but the blush fired her cheeks at the same time.

  “I’m thinking maybe you’re more clown than contortionist,” he muttered.

  Amusement bubbled. It had been surprisingly easy to fluster him.

  He spun, pinning her back against the counter—putting one hand either side of her so she couldn’t escape. He leaned towards her—his chest a tantalizing millimeter from her own. Her nipples screamed in need.

  “If you’re going to wind me up, you better be prepared for payback.”

  She hardly heard him she was so distracted, watching his mouth and remembering the soft-but-firm touch he’d used on her.

  “You’re going to wind me up?” Fact was he already had. Her breathlessness pretty much gave it away.

  “Tight,” he promised. Or perhaps it was more of a threat.

  Either way Libby was bowled. She rested her weight against the counter as heat exploded deep in her belly. Her muscles clenched, ready to grip, while other parts melted. With just one word?

  She breathed slow and deep trying to contain her extreme sexual response. But she couldn’t. Instead she tried to minimize the meaning of it. She’d been without sex for a while—a long, long while. And from the tips of his black eyelashes to his long, muscular legs, Jack was gorgeous. Pure, prime male—every inch of him screamed stellar sex.

  He didn’t want a relationship. Too inconvenient. Libby wasn’t the kind of girl to think she could change a man. Besides, she wouldn’t want to. Because she was keeping herself safe—no relationships. Nothing that could lead to marriage and kids. At least there was no fear of that with Jack.

  There was just their incredible chemistry.

  Her reaction to that kiss the other day? Maybe she needn’t have been so spooked. It must have been so intense since it had been a while. It wasn’t anything other than sex.

  So, could she handle a fling? Or was she really going to spend the rest of her life celibate?

  At this moment that didn’t sound like any fun.

  Their eyes met—a long, hot moment passed. Libby didn’t want to move.

  “Have you had dinner?” He pressed his hips against hers.

  Sweet mercy, “dinner” felt like it might be a seven-course feast. She shook her head, heart pounding. Hell, she’d never been so turned on in her life.

  “Nor have I,” he said.

  “Is that an invitation or an observation?” she asked huskily.

  He thrust ever so slightly against her. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

  “I’m not sure there’ll be anything open.” Time had flown past midnight.

  Amusement lit his eyes. “It’s London. There’s always something open. We can go to the Greek place down the road,” he murmured. “But you look tired and hungry and possibly not up for crowds.”

  That was true. She smiled suddenly. “We can always have some muesli.”

  He mock shuddered. “I can’t get past the school porridge experience.”

  “You need to widen your experience.” She firmly pushed him away. To her disappointment he didn’t resist. She pulled out a couple of bowls from a cupboard and tried to calm her body. But it was too late—far too late.

  “Muesli is not an adequate meal replacement,” he said watching her ladle some into the bowls.

  “Why don’t you stop fighting it and just give it a go?” She poured some milk on top.

  His head whipped up, an amused gleam brightening his eyes. His smile widened. “You should take your own advice.” He lifted his spoon and took a giant mouthful.

  Libby gripped her bowl, trying to cool her searing lust. She could contain this, right?

  He munched and swallowed. Stopped. He looked up and gave her an accusing glare. “It’s good.”

  “You’re surprised? Don’t you trust your brother’s taste?” Smiling, she had a mouthful of muesli herself.

  “It’s been questionable in the past,” he said dryly.

  “You’ve not tried it when you have bags of it up there?”

  “Tom guards it like a goblin does his gold.” He loaded another massive mouthful.

  She laughed. “It must be interesting having an athlete like that in the family.”

  He nodded and swallowed. “It makes life interesting.”

  “Your parents would have been very proud.”

  “They would have.” He shot her a look over his bowl. “I thought you said you didn’t Google me.”

  “I didn’t.” She rolled her eyes as she chewed.

  “But you know.”

  His intensity liquefied her defenses. “Everybody knows the story of Tom Barnes,” she said honestly. “He had cancer as a child. His parents were killed in a car crash and his half-brother—you—raised him and his sister. Tom went on to train and has soared through the rowing ranks to claim champion status. All he needs to cap it now is Olympic glory.”

  Jack grimaced. “They’ve used him as a PR front, but all it’s done is add more pressure at his end.”

  She could only imagine. “There was always going to be huge pressure anyway,” she pointed out. But his concern touched her. “You’re still the protective brother.”

  “It’s a hard habit to break.” He acknowledged. “I don’t want him to burn out or go off the deep e
nd again.” He eyed her. “You know about that too?”

  She carefully washed out her bowl. “That he had his heart broken by his first serious girlfriend and went a bit wild on the party scene?”

  “Mmmm.” Jack munched as he nodded.

  Libby rinsed the other utensils and mixing bowl she’d used. “Do you think he’s vulnerable to doing that again?” Tom had seemed pretty single-minded to her.

  He thought about it. “Maybe not. He nearly lost it all, and that gave him a wake-up call.”

  “And now he has you to keep all the vixen temptresses away from him…” Her voice trailed off as he stepped behind her, slowly reaching past to put his bowl beneath the running tap. She could feel him pressing against her back—all of him.

  “That really was good,” he admitted in a soft whisper that tickled her ear—and tormented her nerves.

  “Worth giving it a shot,” she agreed, her throat so dry it was a wonder the words were audible.

  She turned off the tap and took the bowl from his hand and stacked it with the others. She’d been right about the muesli. But maybe Jack was right too. She’d only be here for a few more days until she found a commercial kitchen she could rent. She’d never have to see him again. She could walk away. She’d done it before—from a far more involved relationship.

  So why miss out? She liked sex and sex with Jack would be dynamite. The kiss alone told her that. And once done, it was done—there’d be no more wondering. No more day-dreaming. No more distraction. A safe, uncomplicated option.

  He stood still. She knew he was waiting for a word or sign. Not pushing it—understanding her dilemma and leaving it up to her.

  But what decision was it? There was no decision. He was simply irresistible.

  She turned and took his tee-shirt in her fist to keep him close. “Remember what I said about no kisses?”

  “Yes.” His gaze shot straight to her mouth.

  “Forget it.” She rose onto tiptoe and pressed her lips to his.

  Chapter Seven

  Kisses. So many kisses—hot and wet. With every lush stroke of his tongue inside her mouth she melted. His hands cupped her face, caressed her neck. His fingers worked into her hair, freeing it from its ponytail. Libby rose higher on her toes, straining to have him closer. His lips traveled down her neck. She inclined her head, offering skin, wanting his touch so much.