Dirty Stranger (The Dirty Suburbs Book 3)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

I take a step backward and now, I’m pressed into the wall. He comes closer still. His front is mere centimeters from mine. And my entire body is on fire.

  He smells so damn good.

  I feel that first drop of desire forming deep inside of me. It trickles down my walls before spilling over the lips of my pussy and pooling in the cotton of my panties. I wish there was a way to make it stop.

  My chest heaves as my heartbeat becomes uncontrollable. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’ve made my decision.”

  He sighs in frustration. “Don’t deny that you need me, Isla. You need my help.”

  “I don’t need you,” I say stubbornly. “I have other options.” This isn’t entirely false. I’ve been reading up about crowdfunding and I’m seriously considering launching a Kickstarter campaign.

  “Why won’t you let me help you?” Reuben’s frustration is reaching its boiling point. He turns his back to me, pacing the floor.

  I shoot him a look. “You’re a big, rich business man, Reuben. Why do you care whether I sink or swim?”

  His gaze snaps to mine. “Because I care about you, dammit!”

  “And that’s exactly why I can’t do business with you. I can’t accept your money based on the fact that you feel guilty or responsible or whatever because we’ve had sex.”

  “My decision to invest in Prasanna is well-founded. I've done my due diligence. I have data and statistics supporting my decision. I can prove it to you.”

  I fold my arms over my chest, watching him skeptically. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. You have a good thing going here, Cinnamon. I want to help you make it better.”

  He looks so genuine. Maybe he's telling the truth. Maybe his interest in investing in this business goes beyond his personal interest in me.

  “Prove it to me. Show me your data. So I know you aren’t bullshitting me.”

  “Fine,” he counters. “I’ll show it all to you. Over dinner.”

  I roll my eyes, turning away from him. “Of course,” I mutter sarcastically. I don’t have time for this. I have yoga blocks to stack.

  My body tenses and pleasure zings through me when I feel his fingers on my hip. “Isla –“ His hand gently lifts my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “—one dinner. And if I can’t convince you to do business with me, you’ll never hear from me again. I’ll leave you alone.”

  I hate the way my heart stutters at the idea of never seeing him again. Just that simple thought already has me close to caving. I should be stronger than this.

  “Isla…”

  “Okay, fine.” I stomp my foot. “One dinner.”

  He smiles, triumph dancing in his eyes. “Perfect,” he says. “Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 6:30?”

  I shake my head at him. “No, no, no, mister. You’ll text me the address and I’ll meet you there.”

  He approaches me with a smirk. “Y’know, texting you implies that you’ll have to give me your phone number…”

  My eyes rotate in my head. “Fine.” I stick out my hand and he gloats silently as he places his phone in my palm. Without a word, I program my number into his contact list and give it back to him.

  “Good,” he says. “I’m going to win you over tomorrow, Cinnamon. Trust me.”

  Masculine dominance emanates from his every movement as he turns and walks out the door. I’m going to resist him with all I’ve got.

  But it already feels like a losing battle...

  Chapter 16

  Reuben

  She's late. As usual.

  I’d started to wonder if she was coming at all but as I’m nursing my second stiff scotch at the bar, I look up and waves of cinnamon goodness crash through the front door.

  I notice the maître d’ do a double-take and possessiveness fires into my blood. I quickly calm myself. What red-blooded American man wouldn’t want a woman like Isla Hamilton? With her gorgeous eyes and silk-spun hair. That toned physique and the graceful way she uses her body.

  I stand from my barstool as she approaches. "Isla..."

  I lay a hand on her bare arm and I feel gooseflesh rise along her skin. I smile inwardly at the small victory. Her body still reacts to me. She still wants me. What I feel like doing is pulling her against my chest and claiming her mouth in a punishing kiss to penalize her for withholding all her sweetness from me. Instead, I lean in and place a chaste kiss on her cheek as her fragrant scent encircles me.

  Her eyes close as my mouth brushes her cheekbone and her chest rises sharply. She allows herself to enjoy it for an instant, leaning a touch closer. Then, she pulls away.

  "Sorry I'm late" she says when her eyes blink open. "My car broke down in the parking lot outside of the studio,” she laughs unhappily. “Blakely just got a new car so I had to ask her for a lift." Her cheeks are pink and I’m not sure if it's because she just rushed in from the cold or if she’s embarrassed about that damn car.

  It’s an eye-sore, a piece of shit on wheels. A woman like her deserves so much better. But I keep my opinion to myself and just nod. I don't want to come on too strong right now and spook her away. "It's no problem at all, Isla."

  I work hard not to lay my hand on the small of her back as we’re led to a small window side table and handed our menus. My eyes stay on her as she places her order. My tongue instinctively runs over my lips. In that tight, deep-cut shirt, her breasts look like a two-scoop ice cream cone, her freckles are the sprinkles, those juicy lips are the cherry on top. And I’m dying for her flavor. But I'm willing to play the good boy...for now.

  “So, is Blakely your only sibling?” I question as the waiter walks off with our order.

  She nods, sliding a lock of hair behind her ear. “Yes.” She pauses, seeming to fight an internal battle before she asks. “Do you have siblings?”

  Although I want to share more of myself with her, this is a topic that I’d rather stay away from especially since I have so many unresolved issues with Ryan. These aren’t things I want to discuss on a first date.

  (Side note: Yes, it’s a first date. She just won’t admit it to herself.)

  I offer her a curt response. “Two brothers. One older, one younger.” I quickly steer the conversation back toward her. “Are you and Blakely close?”

  She smiles. “We are. But not in a sister-sister kind of way. She’s almost six years younger than I am so I’ve always been kind of bossy with her. She’s sweet, though. She’s never seemed to mind.”

  I've spoken to Blakely a few times since I started bringing Isla her morning coffee. She's very quiet and polite and her cheeks turn strawberry-red when I bring her cookies. I hope she’s put in a good word with her sister for me.

  “And you’re twenty-six?” I ask.

  “Twenty-seven. My birthday was in December.” Her eyes move to mine and she almost looks shy. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-seven in March,” I say, watching closely for her reaction. If she makes a big deal about the fact that I’m three months younger than she is…

  “When we met, I thought you were much younger than that.” She licks her lips. It’s a small but distracting motion. My cock swells ever-so-slightly in my pants.

  I smile at her. “You thought a lot of things when we first met.”

  She laughs softly. “I’m sorry about that. I was pretty judgmental.”

  I pick up my drink and take a swig. “I get it. You’re in a scary place. A place of uncertainty. You didn’t want to add anything else that could drag you even deeper into the abyss. That's why you put up those walls.”

  She nods at me, like she’s relieved that I get it, I understand her. For an instant, something shifts. The protective gates around her part. She’s completely open to me. I want to rush those gates and pull her close and kiss her like she was always mine. But I can’t do that. I’d scare her. So, instead, I reach across the table and lay my hand on hers, allowing my fingers to draw circles along her wrist.

  “You look beautiful tonight, Isla.”

  And tha
t’s all it takes for her to retreat.

  She pulls her hand back, placing it in her lap. “We-we should talk business,” she says in a wispy voice as she tucks her hair over her shoulder.

  Shit. I moved too fast. Couldn't help myself.

  I sit back in my chair, physically giving her the space that she needs. She’ll come around. I just have to be patient enough to wait this out. I pull my leather attaché folder from the edge of the table and stretch a document toward her.

  "So as I mentioned before, my older brother and I run an investment consortium that focuses on buying up small-town businesses that are failing. We turn them around so that they become profitable and can afford to keep their doors open."

  Her blue eyes smile at me. "Wow, that's really amazing, Reuben," she muses in a dreamy tone like she thinks I'm a hero or something. But what did I expect? Of course she views it in a charitable manner. The woman's a freakin’ saint. She runs errands for old ladies for crying out loud. How much more saintly can you get?

  A hearty laugh bellows past my lips. "I'm no altruist, Isla. Our business model is very profitable. For all parties involved." I hold her gaze. "I want you to be a part of it."

  She seems captivated by my vision for a moment. She wants to get on board with the dream. Then she snaps out of it, shaking her head. "Damn, you’re good," she mumbles. "If that whole 'being a billionaire' thing doesn't work out for you, you might want to go into sales 'cause you can sell a used car to a used car salesman."

  I laugh, watching as she turns her focus back to the documents. Her eyes scan the papers, absorbing every word, analysing every graph, calculating and re-calculating all the data.

  Eventually, the server sets our meal in front of us. Isla barely breaks her attention away from the documents to enjoy her food. She really is all business. And she asks the right questions. I take my time answering them and she doesn’t let me off the hook with half-answers. She wants details and justifications for my conclusions and projections. She really needs evidence that my decision to invest is based on more than just my fierce attraction to her. She is a shrewd businesswoman. She understands the state of her industry. She can distinguish the trends from the fads. She has a vision for her business.

  She just doesn’t have the funds.

  That’s where I come in. If the fucking business advisors don’t want to invest in Prasanna, I will. I’ll spend every dime I’ve ever earned, every penny I can get on credit to help this woman. She knows what she’s doing, but even if she didn’t, I’d still risk it all to help her. Carl was right about one thing – I don’t care about logic when it comes to making Isla’s dreams come true. I’d do it all just to see her smile in exchange.

  She wears a thoughtful – if not sceptical – look on her face as the waiter clears our empty dishes. “I need some time to think about this.”

  My spirits sink. I thought I’d done everything to make her agree to this. I maintain my cool. “That’s fine.”

  We both opt for a cup of coffee instead of dessert. Isla looks at me while the man fills our small cups with espresso. "So does your younger brother work in the business, too?"

  It's an innocent question from an unassuming outsider but the question raises all kinds of vitriol inside of me. I bite my bottom lip. "No."

  Isla presses. "Then, what does he do? He has his own business?"

  She's not asking these questions to rile me. She's just trying to get to know me. Finally. But she's inadvertently got her finger on my sorest spot of all. "What did I tell you about making assumptions? " I joke, hoping there’s no edge in my voice.

  She laughs. "Oh touchy, touchy. Let me guess. He jet sets around the world, spending your hard-earned cash, doesn't he?"

  My lips pull into a flatline when her speculation hits a little too close to the truth. "He and I aren't on speaking terms," I say simply although my conscience is yelling at me to tell her the whole story. But what would be the point of that? Ryan has done enough damage in my world to last a lifetime. I won't let him ruin my dinner with this beautiful woman too.

  So, I ask her about yoga. About the different styles and the benefits of each. I ask her about the philosophy behind the practice and the traditions that have been passed down through the ages. And she lights up as she tells me about it all. That twinkle in her eyes illuminates the room and her passion stirs excitement in my stomach.

  Closing time rolls around much too soon. I motion the waiter over and ask for the check. The man informs me that they’re having problems with their wireless payment system and that I’d have to follow him to the bar to pay.

  After settling the tab, I meet her standing at the door. She’s already slipped into her jacket, a classy wool peacoat cinched tight at the waist that makes her look inexplicably sexy. My gaze scans the length of her.

  This is a woman I can have on my arm. And in my bed. Always.

  She looks at me, eyes certain, and she whispers, “I think we have a deal.”

  “We have a deal?” I use as much restraint as I can muster, but I still come across as a high school loser whose crush just miraculously accepted his invitation to the winter formal.

  She smiles. It’s soft and hesitant, but genuine. “Yes, we have a deal. I want to work with you. I trust you.” Her small hand reaches out for mine. My heart feels like it might explode from contentment.

  The handshake is electric. My palm rests against hers and my thumb grates the inside of her hand. I can’t help it. She feels that spark, too. Her eyes go wide and her lips part as a light moan bursts out of her.

  I move closer with every intention of kissing the fuck out of her, right there at the front door of the busiest restaurant in town.

  She steps backward, taking a self-conscious look around to see if anyone is watching. “Yes, we have a deal.” She eyes me sharply and jabs a finger hard into my chest. “And, you need to stay out of my pants.”

  A smile tickles the corners of my lips as she turns on her heels and marches out into the snow.

  Chapter 17

  Reuben

  “So, I hear you insist on being pig-headed?” Griffin's booming voice rolls through my ear buds. I hear the hint of amusement under his faux-sterness.

  I adjust the settings on the crappy treadmill I’m running on. Maybe we should buy this gym. Just to upgrade the ratty, old equipment. “You know me," I say. "When I see something I want, I make sure I get it. That’s why I’m your right hand man.”

  He chuckles. “Except right now, I’m not too clear on what that ‘something’ is; the stupid yoga studio or the hot red-head who owns it.”

  I laugh, too. Griffin is always so damn blunt. That’s why it’s so easy for me to trust him, unlike Ryan who’s as trustworthy as a broken condom in a whorehouse. “So you heard about the red-head?” I use the towel around my neck to wipe my sweaty forehead.

  “According to Carl, she’s something else.” He exhales roughly. “Now, the question is whether you’re investing with your brain or with your cock…or god-forbid, your heart.”

  His words strike me in the chest. I’m not man enough to admit it out loud but, I know that I’m falling in love with her. That much is obvious. When this all started, I just wanted to tear into that beautiful freckled body and lose my fingers in that silky, red hair. But from the moment that I had sex with Isla Hamilton, I knew that sex wouldn't be enough.

  I need more.

  I don’t know why I’m so surprised. She's a goddess. I'm a mere mortal. I never stood a chance.

  “Don’t you have a hostile takeover or a leveraged buy-out to go oversee?” I tease my brother. “Why are you sticking your nose in my business?”

  He spits out a laugh. “Because I’m very invested in seeing you care about something other than hostile takeovers and leveraged buy-outs. You’re my little brother and I want to see you be human again. Delia really fucked you up. She left you dead inside. You haven't been interested in a woman since."

  That's all it takes to irritate the fuck
out of me. "You always have to go there, man. You always have to mention that bitch."

  He groans. "All I'm saying is that I’m a divorced single father and I still get more play than you. That's how I know you have a problem."

  "Yeah well, you fuck every babysitter who steps through your front door," I grumble.

  He chortles. "What can I say? It's efficient and convenient, if nothing else." His voice goes serious. "And you know how I feel about efficiency. Which is why I'm struggling with this yoga studio investment."

  “The yoga business has potential. I have a vision and so does Isla. She knows her industry inside out and she’s a hard worker.”