Hotter on Ice

by Rebecca Hunter

  Now all that was in jeopardy because of one bloody oversight. Thanks to Richard. Not that she could blame him entirely. It was her own fault for allowing him control—and not just of her business, but of her, too. She’d trusted him, handed the reins of her life to him.

  Maybe she could console herself that she’d had reason to do so at the time, but that was really no excuse. Not that it would ever happen again. She’d learned a huge and valuable lesson from the whole debacle.

  The woman returned and held out a glass. ‘You look like you could use this,’ she said as April accepted the water. ‘Try not to worry. I’m sure he’ll help if he can.’

  If he can.

  That was the crucial question.

  Since she hadn’t been required to divulge the nature of her business, beyond the fact that she was seeking advice on a potential litigation matter, April knew the woman wasn’t aware of the reason for her appointment. That was unless Veronica had decided to go ahead with her threat, had procured herself a lawyer, and word had got around. Like most professions, law was probably an intimate world, and lawyers’ dinner tables undoubtedly rife with humorous stories of client predicaments.

  She could only imagine what kind of reaction her story would get were it shared amongst the legal profession. Not that she had anything to be embarrassed about. She ran a legitimate successful business. And she would do everything in her power to make sure that continued.

  When a buzzer sounded, April was treated to another encouraging smile. ‘He’s free now. I’ll show you in.’

  The woman took April’s glass and tapped lightly on the door. Without waiting for a response, she pushed it open and stepped back so April could enter a large corner office overlooking London’s impressive skyline.

  One glance at the man leaning against the front of the battered walnut desk and April was tempted to grab for the water again. There was no mistaking this was the man she’d come to see. He owned the space, filled it, swamped it. Confidence seemed to ooze from every pore. Okay, she’d seen photos of him while doing an online search, but in the flesh Logan Fitzpatrick was formidable, and absolutely not what she’d been expecting.

  Ruffled dark brown hair flirted with the open collar of a crisp white shirt—and the latter was the only lawyerly thing about his appearance. Dark jeans, a wide leather belt with a buckle that looked like some sort of Celtic knot, and battered leather boots. What looked like a full day’s worth of stubble barely disguised an impressively square jaw, and beneath the slash of thick dark eyebrows shrewd blue eyes appraised her as she stood in the doorway.

  His gaze didn’t shift from hers as he thanked the woman, who popped April’s glass on his desk. April stared back, and would have swallowed, but her mouth was currently doing an impression of the Gobi Desert.

  While he looked nothing like her idea of a lawyer, he was most definitely a man to lust over while indulging in some very inappropriate daydreams.

  ‘When you’ve finished looking your fill, maybe you’d like to come in all the way.’

  Her instinct was to deny she’d been checking him out, and to challenge his undeniable ego, but there was no point annoying him from the get-go. If she could persuade him to help her, that very ego and formidable manner was exactly what she needed on her side.

  With sensually masculine ease, he pushed away from the desk and held out his hand. It was big and rough, and a large gold watch circled his solid wrist. Heat curled in her belly as she stepped forward to accept his handshake. His palm connected with hers, warm and solid, and his fingers curled firmly around her hand.

  Little tingles joined the heat—probably because the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled to just below his elbows, displaying tanned and muscled forearms with a light covering of dark hair. She was a sucker for muscular arms—all that strength and power—especially when one of them displayed an intriguing tattoo similar in design to the buckle on his belt.

  Before she could start musing on the possible importance the symbol held for him, she released his hand.

  ‘You’re Mr Fitzpatrick?’

  ‘That’s what it says on the door.’

  The velvet cadence of his deep voice should have softened his edges, but all it did was add to the already dangerous air about him.

  ‘Why don’t you sit down and hit me with the reason for your visit?’

  ‘Yes. Right.’ She felt she owed him an explanation for her staring. ‘You’re not like the photographs on your company website.’

  He glanced down at himself, then met her gaze again, treating her to a sexy glint from those blue eyes. ‘Yeah, well. It’s dress-down Friday.’

  ‘No offence, it’s just the photos show you in a snappy suit.’

  ‘If it’s a fashion plate you’re after, try Models Inc. a few floors down. If it’s legal representation, take a seat. And no offence taken.’

  No. He was too damned sure of himself for that. She really admired that kind of confidence, loved the self-assurance that came with knowing you were the best. And he was the best. Top of his game, able to take his pick of clients.

  Before she could dwell on the implications of that, he walked around the desk, sat, and scooted forward. ‘Now we’ve established I’m who you came to see, give me the details.’

  April felt a smidgen of relief that he was safely back behind his desk, but she wished he’d roll those bloody shirtsleeves down so she could stop staring at his forearms. And how was she supposed to explain her current predicament with those steely blue eyes fixed firmly on her?

  Because you’ve got no choice.

  Best to blurt it out, then. ‘I’m under threat of being sued. I need legal advice.’

  ‘Then you’ve come to the right place. Who’s suing you?’

  ‘An ex-colleague during my modelling days. Veronica Lebeck.’

  He raised dark eyebrows. The mention of Veronica’s name tended to have that reaction, especially since she’d gained notoriety after appearing topless on a reality TV show.

  ‘What grounds?’

  ‘She’s claiming negligence. That a product she purchased from my company was unfit for purpose and caused her physical injury.’

  ‘Was the product faulty?’

  ‘I’ve sold hundreds before and it gets excellent reviews.’

  ‘Reviews don’t mean shit.’

  Her instinct was to counter the patronising tone, but the words died on her lips. She could imagine him telling her where the door was and that she was most welcome to use it.

  ‘What’s the product?’

  She angled her chin into the air. ‘A vibrator.’

  His expression didn’t waver, but a glimmer of heat shot into his eyes. ‘A vibrator?’

  Deliberately, she presented him with what Lizzie called her pissy business face. ‘I run an online store selling adult toys.’

  His gaze stayed firm on hers, but his nostrils flared a little and she thought his lips twitched.

  ‘Ever had anything like this happen before?’

  ‘Never.’ She pulled her chin higher. She was a professional businesswoman selling bona fide merchandise. Damned if she’d apologise or be embarrassed about it. ‘Vibrators are my top-selling product.’

  For the first time since she’d entered the office he released her from that intense gaze and scooted his chair nearer the desk and his laptop.

  ‘What’s your URL?’

  She told him and he tapped it in.

  In silence, April watched him peruse the site, his gaze skimming over the screen. His eyes moved fast, but she knew he didn’t miss a thing. The only sound in the room was the click of the mouse as he flipped through the pages, and an occasional tap at the keyboard. His long fingers adeptly negotiated each click, those muscles in his forearm flexing with the movement.

  She was about to slide into a lusty daydream, imagining the ki
nd of lethal damage he could do to a woman with that muscled strength, those supple fingers, when he pushed the laptop away and sat back in his chair.

  ‘Your disclaimer could do with some fleshing out. Liability insurance? Who are your underwriters?’

  She inhaled deeply, breathed out slowly. ‘I currently don’t have any—insurance or underwriters.’

  That unnerving gaze was back on her, his eyes slightly narrowed with a what-sort-of-idiot-woman-is-this? glint.

  ‘Why the hell not?’

  April refused to react to his implication that she was lacking in the intelligence department. Now wasn’t the time to allow those particular demons to surface.

  ‘The policy renewal got overlooked. I’ve tried to take out insurance to start from now, but since I felt compelled to disclose the threat of potential litigation, nobody will accept me with that hanging over my head.’

  He gave a slow, thoughtful nod. ‘Has Lebeck mentioned a figure?’

  ‘Yes.’ April’s stomach heaved. ‘One million.’

  Logan Fitzpatrick’s face remained impassive for a moment, then he tipped his head back and laughed. A full-out laugh, crinkling his blue eyes and displaying teeth that were a perfect match for the white of his shirt.

  Oh, but he was an attractive specimen of manhood—in a roguish sort of way. She might have put her love-life on hold after the whole Rotten Richard debacle, might have made a promise to herself to focus on building her business instead, but there was absolutely no harm in looking, was there?

  ‘What sort of damage did this thing do?’

  April thought the question was rhetorical until he raised his eyebrows, waiting. ‘Some bruising, apparently. She said it gave her a kind of shock.’

  He reached across his desk towards an ashtray which held a fat cigar. When he stuffed the cigar, unlit, between his teeth, April had the disconcerting impression that he’d done it to stop himself from laughing again.

  Days of worry and pent-up irritation pushed to the fore. ‘Look, I just want to know. Does she have a case?’

  ‘Hard to say,’ he said around the cigar. ‘You said you once worked together. What kind of relationship did you have?’

  April considered her response carefully. There was no point telling him anything that didn’t relate to the case. ‘Let’s just say we weren’t the best of friends. Some minor work-related disagreements, but nothing like this.’

  Hot colour flooded into her cheeks—probably because of the way his teeth clenched around that bloody cigar. It was ridiculously sexy. Which was absurd. She had more to think about than some sexy lawyer who, like all the others she’d approached, obviously had no intention of taking her seriously, let alone helping her.

  He took the cigar from his mouth and placed it back in the ashtray. As he leaned forward the movement highlighted the width of his shoulders, the size of his biceps as they strained against the crisp cotton of his shirt. It made her want to rip that shirt right off his shoulders and check out the view for real.

  ‘Tell me about your set up.’

  Her face, which had lost a little of the heat, started to burn again under his intense scrutiny. She had the disconcerting feeling that this man didn’t miss anything. That he listened, absorbed, dissected, and then either accepted what you said or spit it right out. Straight down the line. No middle way.

  She took a covert deep breath. ‘Like I said, I run an online shop. It’s mostly mail order, but I also party-plan.’

  ‘Party-plan? How does that work?’

  The glint in his eye indicated he already had a pretty good handle on how it worked, but she hiked a shoulder.

  ‘Women get together with a bunch of friends, they order what they want, and I arrange to have their purchases delivered.’

  ‘How do they make their choices?’

  Oh, here we go, she thought. Nudge, nudge. Wink, wink. She’d handled this sort of smutty inference so many times before, and she’d handle it now.

  Except this time it wasn’t so easy—not with his eyes taking a long, slow perusal of her and making her womanly parts do a happy dance. She squeezed her knees together as the gleam in his eye shot across the desk like an electrical current and arrowed straight to her clit. Heat rose in her body, thick and potent, making her limbs feel heavy, her core muscles tight.

  This reaction to him was ridiculous—especially since he was likely just having his fun before showing her the door.

  She thought about leaving. Simply gathering up her bag, thanking him for his time and leaving with her head held high. Problem was, he was basically her last resort.

  She met his gaze full-on. ‘Website, catalogue and theoretical product demonstration.’

  He nodded, then went back to perusing the screen.

  While he hadn’t been openly derogatory, April didn’t much like his attitude. Although, she had to admit that at least he was listening to her. So far this appointment had lasted longer than any of the others, and the fact he was still checking out her website was surely a good sign. Unless he was just a pervert and was enjoying the models displaying the latest in sexy underwear. They were some of her most visited pages.

  ‘What model of vibrator?’ he asked suddenly, his eyes not leaving the screen. ‘There are dozens listed here.’

  ‘It’s no longer listed. I took it down right after this happened, although I kept a sample.’

  His eyes met hers, held there. ‘I’ll need to see it, check out how it works. Theoretically.’

  She couldn’t tell if he was being deliberately suggestive or if she was just being too sensitive, but he needed to realise that, like him, she wasn’t about to take any crap. ‘I run an online adult store. A legitimate business. If you can’t help me, just say so. But please don’t insult me or my business.’

  His eyebrows rose in sardonic fashion. ‘There’s no insult—to you or your business. I merely need to be in possession of all the facts. If my request to see the vibrator offends your delicate sensibilities, maybe you’re in the wrong business.’

  Arrogant prick.

  But he was right, of course. He did need all the facts. She could have kicked herself for not bringing a sample of the vibrator along, but in her defence she’d thought this would be a quickie appointment that would have her leaving with the sound of his laughter ringing in her ears.

  He unsettled her. Not just his cool and commanding manner, but the fact she hadn’t felt quite so attracted to a man in a long time, and certainly hadn’t indulged in fantasies of the screwing variety for even longer. It was insane.

  Shouldn’t it take more than sinfully handsome features all wrapped up in one sexy and self-assured package to make a woman react the way she was reacting? Shouldn’t it be about trust and respect? But then, in her experience, both of those qualities were in very short supply, so maybe there was something to be said for simple lust.

  ‘I’d be happy to let you have a sample,’ April said, yanking her focus back to the matter in hand. ‘I can get it couriered over to you. Discreet packaging, of course. Wouldn’t want to offend any of your delicate sensibilities.’

  Copyright © 2020 by Faye Avalon

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  ISBN: 97814
88062063

  Hotter on Ice

  Copyright © 2020 by Rebecca Hunter

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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