Reformed Bad Girl

by Shelley Munro

  A slight frown creased her forehead. She opened her mouth, as if she might reject him.

  “Please,” he said. “You haven’t even given me a smile yet. I look upon that as a challenge.”

  “Women don’t say no to you, do they?” Amusement sparkled in her beautiful blue eyes. He wondered what her dark hair would look like without the pins and jeweled combs that restrained it so tightly. Probably stunning against his sheets.

  “Rarely,” he said, guiding her to the dance floor with a hand at the small of her back while battling his instincts to pounce. Too bad. He was losing the fight. Big time. “You wouldn’t want to spoil my good image. Word might get around. My reputation would suffer.”

  She chuckled, the sound rich and musical, without artifice. “Your reputation seems healthy. I’ve seen you in the gossip magazines with a different woman on your arm each time.”

  “You recognize me?” A woman he instinctively liked, and she had preconceived notions. The wrong ones if she read the gossip mags. Damn, he hated this, although he couldn’t change the fact his mother was minor royalty and his father had more money than most people dreamed about. Their fairy-tale marriage had sparked public interest that had never waned over the years. The arrival of children brought more attention. It seemed, in this world of throwaway relationships, many people craved happy endings.

  “You’re a very photogenic figure, Mr. Norville.”

  “Sam,” he said, taking her into his arms. “You can call me Sam.”

  She was about six inches shorter than him—the perfect height. Nothing worse than a sore neck from bending at an awkward angle. They moved together, bodies brushing in time to the music. At least she hadn’t flounced off in disgust.

  “Are you going to tell me your name?” He offered his best smile as he navigated the crowded floor, infusing it with charm and sincerity, when all he wanted to do was bite. His smile slithered into a smirk. It wouldn’t be a problem. Licking away the sting with the lash of his tongue would be half the fun.

  “H-Helen,” she said.

  Cute stutter. Combined with the freckles and perfume, it added up to compelling—for him at any rate—and a woman who didn’t do casual. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea. Yeah, right. Try telling that to his body.

  “You can’t believe everything you hear or see, especially in the media,” he said, returning to their earlier conversation.

  “Is that so? The stories seem consistent. There must be an element of truth.” The sparkle in her eyes gave away the fact she was teasing.

  A couple bumped into them. Sam gathered her closer and moved them out of the main traffic area on the dance floor. Their legs glided together and his unruly hormones leapt to full alert. Difficult to hold back his groan of pleasure.

  “You can’t let my reputation scare you. That would be like trying a man without giving him a hearing. Innocent until proven guilty, remember?”

  Helen lifted her head and her mouth stretched into a wide grin. It echoed in her blue eyes, taking her from quietly attractive to striking. Sam stared, fascinated by the difference a smile made. “Just what do you intend to do with me, Sam? We’ve only just met.”

  Strange how the stutter had disappeared. He’d rather liked the small imperfection. “We can discuss our relationship over a drink.”

  “A drink sounds nice.” Her full lips twitched with amusement. “But really, it’s too early to call what we have a relationship.”

  He chuckled, attracting the attention of several couples near them on the dance floor. For once he didn’t care about the public scrutiny. “I respond well to a challenge. I also bite. You should take that as a warning.”

  Helen grinned. “I must update my immunization shots.”

  Sam led her to an empty table, wearing a broad grin. The woman was refreshing. Interesting. A waiter strolled past, carrying a tray of margaritas, and he took two, handing one of the salt-encrusted glasses to Helen.

  Sam sat, not wanting to leave her side now he’d seen her close up and held her, despite his inner warning system blaring at full alert. His fascination overrode his survival instincts, which meant he didn’t intend to go anywhere. His employees had things under control with their bigger clients, so the rest of the night belonged to him.

  He watched Helen over the rim of his glass, trying to work out what made her different from every other woman. She wore her dark hair up in a knot at the back of her head. A few chocolate brown wisps softened her face, curling across her temples. Golden freckles dusted her nose, giving her a touch of innocence and freshness. Every single item of her clothing was black. A black blouse skimmed her body and a long black skirt hit her below the knees.

  Nothing clung to her curves or overtly displayed her body, but he knew—just knew—she possessed very sexy curves. He’d touched them as they danced together. Her velvet-soft skin tempted Sam to stroke his fingers across her cheek. Then, there was her mouthwatering scent. Hell, it made him yearn to rip off her clothes and explore her decadent shape. He was positive the erotic promise of her would stand the test and couldn’t wait to drag his tongue across the rest of her soft skin. Her breasts. Her inner thighs. Her pussy.

  His cock twitched, his mind racing ahead and filling his body with arousal. The delicate fragrance of wildflowers filled his every breath, refreshing after the heavy, multi-faceted perfumes his past dates had worn.

  “It might be early, but this is a party. It’s the perfect place to get to know each other.” Sam sipped his margarita and admitted to himself he wanted this woman. He wanted to peel away the layers of clothing to see her natural shape. He frowned, not liking the direction of his thoughts, because he didn’t trust in love at first sight. Lust, yes. Lust made sense. His mood lightened. That’s what this was—sexual desire. He could do something about chemistry and lust, especially if he found a like-minded woman.

  “I bet you say that to all the girls.” Her husky voice stroked him, playing across his nerve endings like a finger across guitar strings. He imagined her fingers exploring his chest and shifted at his body’s instant reaction.

  “Don’t judge me by the publicity.” A grin played around his lips. “Most of it isn’t true.”

  “But some of it is.” Her big blue eyes blinked at him, intrigue chasing across her expressive face. “You’re a bad boy. I think I’m allergic to bad boys.”

  “Ah, you’re not sure, which means I might change your mind.”

  “So you admit your bad-boy status.”

  “I hurt no one and don’t gossip about details.” Coming from her, the bad-boy label rankled. “And I never lie. Ever. I don’t like liars.”

  “Why me? There are lots of beautiful women here. Flirtation City for a man like you. One of the three standing over there, for instance.”

  “They’re trophy hunters. They want me because they’re models after publicity to push their careers. Too blatant. I hate being used and prefer to choose my own women. I pick you.” Sam surprised himself since he was usually more subtle. This was deliberate seduction. He captured her hand and rubbed his thumb across the back before turning it over to study her palm. No rings. That was good.

  Her brows arched upward. “And do I have a choice?”

  “Not anymore,” he murmured. “It’s too late now.”

  Despite the laughter, loud music and intoxicated shouts, they seemed to inhabit a world of their own. Damn, he wanted this woman, but it wasn’t love at first sight. No such thing. Sam held his breath at the flare of desire when he threaded their fingers together. Oh, yeah. This was lust big time, and that was all. Lust he could deal with.

  Chapter Two

  Hayley couldn’t believe Sam Norville sat beside her, holding her hand. His spicy citrus scent and the stroke of his fingers were playing havoc with her senses. Her stomach fluttered despite her steady smile. The millionaire looked better in person, way better than in the photos plastering the magazines and society pages of the newspapers.

  Sam’s dark hair gleam
ed, even in the dim lighting. Slightly long, it looked in need of a cut, but the shagginess didn’t detract from his good looks. His strong features were sensual and the corners of his golden eyes bore fans of wrinkles, displayed whenever he grinned his very sexy and probably well-practiced crooked smile. A definite bad-boy smile if ever she saw one. Jeans, a white T-shirt and black leather jacket added to her initial bad-boy impression.

  Happy birthday to me.

  “I haven’t seen you around here before,” he said, leaning forward so they could speak over the noise.

  “I came with a friend.” Hayley couldn’t suppress a shiver of awareness when his warm breath wafted across the whorl of her ear. His palm bore several calluses and, curse her vivid imagination, she could envision them stroking across her naked breasts with no difficulty at all. Oh, dear. Big trouble—margarita-induced trouble. She should’ve stopped at number two, but she’d badly needed a drink to steady her nerves after their dance.

  “Are you going home with your friend?”

  “No. She’s spending the night with her boyfriend.” She’d seen Suzie when she first arrived but not since. Hopefully with this crowd Suzie wouldn’t see her again and notice her infatuation. Suzie knew her well enough to see straight through her pretense.

  “Good news for me.” His thumb strummed across her palm in a hypnotic manner. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  Hayley shivered. If she concentrated on the dancers, perhaps she’d manage not to make a fool of herself. She picked up her drink with her free hand and drank a good half. The faint tremor was barely noticeable, but she knew. Hayley set her glass down, determined not to drink another drop.

  “Dance with me again,” he said, tugging her to her feet.

  Hayley acquiesced without protest. If they were dancing, she didn’t have to think as hard. She could just feel.

  On the dance floor, he swept her into his arms, their lower limbs brushing with exquisite slowness. Hayley swallowed, trying to control her excitement. She’d decided when she’d given him a false name. A one-night stand. Dare she? With a determined playboy millionaire? At least that’s what the papers reported. Sam Norville was a dedicated charmer.

  And she was considering…oh, dear. She was bad. Even contemplating a one-night stand. Hayley pressed her cheek against his leather jacket and smiled dreamily. Could a secretary be a bad girl during her off-duty hours?

  Maybe, maybe not.

  Well, she’d see how the night progressed. She ignored her conscience screaming about impulsiveness and consequences. The memories of her parents’ lectures… Couldn’t a girl have a little fun on her birthday? Perhaps he didn’t feel the same sexual currents she did. Perhaps she was making a huge fool of herself, providing entertainment for the millionaire.

  Their bodies swayed. Hardly moving, their limbs brushed and bumped together when they collided with other laughing dancers. His nearness, his intoxicating citrus scent overwhelmed her, kept adding to the daring thoughts already dancing through her head. She tingled all over, the heat from his touch pulling her nipples to tight beads beneath the cups of her silky bra.

  They continued to dance, holding each other close, hands wandering and lazily exploring. The hard ridge of his erection brushed against her abdomen, the knowledge ricocheting through her, dampening her panties, heating her cheeks. Gradually she acknowledged that this attraction, this thing between them went both ways.

  “What would you do if I danced you into a dark corner and kissed you?” he asked during a break in the music.

  “I’m not sure.” Liar, her subconscious taunted. Her body warmed and her limbs became heavy, her pulse skittering alarmingly out of control. She glanced up at him and winked. “Why don’t you try it and find out?” He could do just about anything to her, if he kept talking in that low, husky voice.

  He stared at her for a long second, and she swallowed, her nerves doing a real number on her knees. His sudden smile sent her pulse lurching madly and heat to her cheeks. Those margaritas were tricky little suckers, sneaking up on a girl without warning.

  “Come on,” he whispered. “I want to see if my imagination is good.”

  Hayley’s breath whooshed out in a gusty sigh, her conscience shrieked at her, but she accepted his hand and, after collecting her bag, let him lead her through the crowd of laughing people and downstairs to the main pub. It was an old one with lots of small nooks and cozy private areas within the main building.

  “How far away is this dark corner you’re talking about?”

  He winked. “Later. How about grabbing us a seat while I buy drinks?” His dark gaze caressed her face before settling on her lips. The impression felt almost physical and set tiny starbursts of sensation dancing along her nerve endings.

  Hayley nodded in agreement. “An orange juice for me please.” She watched him prowl to the bar, her attention shooting to his world-class backside. She licked dry lips and fought with her chiding conscience.

  This. Was. Not. A. Good. Idea.

  She had time to flee—if she wanted, before things went too far. That was the crux of the problem. If she wanted. She liked Sam, or what she knew of him so far, despite his reputation. Maybe she’d shove the good angel sitting on her right shoulder off and see where her naughty self took her. Yeah, that’s what she should do. After all, it was her twenty-fifth birthday. If she didn’t celebrate, who would?

  “Here you go.” Sam placed a glass of orange juice on the table in front of her and set a bottle of Heineken beside it. “Why don’t you shift along?” His husky voice pulled a deep-seated shudder from her along with yearning.

  If he kept talking to her in that voice, he could do anything he wanted. Anything. Slowly, she glanced at him, their eyes meeting, gazes holding. Something silent passed between them. A promise. An acknowledgement that this attraction was a two-way thing.

  Weirdly, every last bit of anxiety dissipated and gut instinct told her everything would be all right. Trust. It shimmered in his golden brown eyes and her breath escaped in a soft puff of relief. He had just as much to lose as her. She moved across the cushioned seat of the bench and he slid in beside her. His warm, jean-clad thigh brushed hers. Hayley held her breath, once again experiencing the frisson of shimmers that accompanied his touch. Her hand trembled as she reached for the orange juice, liquid leaping over the side of the glass in an embarrassing, telltale splash. A slow burn started in Hayley’s cheeks, echoing in her body.

  “Do I scare you?” he whispered in his sinful voice. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear about me. My reputation is exaggerated.”

  “You would say that.” Her breasts lifted as she sucked in a hasty breath. She exhaled, discomfiture crawling across her cheeks at his intense regard. “No, your reputation doesn’t worry me. I don’t listen to gossip. It’s what you’re making me feel that scares me,” Hayley blurted and at once wished she could recall the telling words. She’d dug herself a hole, and it was time to stop digging.

  “I can have someone from the party vouch for me. I promise I’m not an ax murderer or anything else remotely scary. It’s true I have a playboy image, but I’m single. If it would set your mind at ease, I can find one of my friends to tell you I’m a decent bloke.”

  The offer smoothed her ruffled nerves and helped her relax, but it made her laugh, too. “Can I trust your friends to tell the truth?” At his affronted look, her smile widened. “You probably think I’m a fruitcake.”

  “A very sexy fruitcake.” He picked up her left hand and squeezed it lightly. “What would you do if I asked you to spend the night with me?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  “There’s something between us, something special. Every time we touch.” His voice lowered to sexy and intimate, and Hayley’s nipples became sensitive, her body reacting to both voice and touch. The man was a skilled seducer, and she had no defenses against him. Oh, she blamed it on the drink. The margaritas had burned away every shred of good sense, leaving her naughty
self unprotected. The solid yearning to live a little, if only for one night, didn’t help either.

  “What do you do, Sam?” A test, because Suzie had told her. The tabloids tended to concentrate on his social life, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen his occupation mentioned in print.

  “For a job? It’s true my family is wealthy, just as the papers say, but I am a businessman and work in the city. I like to keep busy.”

  Her brows rose. “You enjoy work?” In his jeans and leather jacket, he didn’t look like a suit, a man who worked for his living, even though she knew better.

  “Yes, the challenge makes life interesting.”

  Mesmerized by his intense gaze, she stretched out her hand and, giving into temptation, lightly ran her fingers across his strong jaw. Stubble created a dragging friction against her fingertips. When she came to his lips, she hesitated, gathered her confidence around her like a cloak and toppled over into sin. One forefinger traced the sensual curve of his top lip and along the bottom. Next, she stroked her finger across the seam, gasping when he opened his mouth and took her finger inside. Her gaze flew to his, and her heart thudded. Suddenly nothing mattered—his reputation, his job, his money. Nothing.

  Heat surrounded her finger and seeped down her arm, tugged at her breasts, before moving lower. When he applied suction, a dark moan slipped free. She swallowed and watched his eyes darken and a faint flush shadow his cheekbones. The muscles of his thigh tensed. Her stomach turned a slow, rollercoaster flip.

  He pulled away, still holding her deer-in-headlights stare.

  “Hell,” he said, his voice a trifle unsteady. The next moment, his lips covered hers and his large hand cradled her head. Their lips moved together in a perfect dance of flirtation, a slow getting-to-know-you tango that made Hayley long to press her naked body against his. So far gone she could hardly think, she went with the sensations. The brush of lips, the sensuous slide of tongues when she opened for him and the gentle touch of his hand at her head.