He turns to look at me and the moment our eyes meet I know it’s all going to be okay. That he’s suffering the same way I am and that he wants what we had back. He wants me back.
Not that I’m going to let him just waltz in and sweep me off my feet without making him work for it first.
I watch with my heart in my mouth as he slowly walks over to me. My body reacts in its usual wanton way whenever he’s near me and I flush with heat and longing for him.
Stepping back into the break room, I beckon for him to follow me.
‘Why are you here?’ I ask as soon as I’ve shut the door on the curious faces of my colleagues.
‘Because I love you,’ he says without preamble, moving closer to me, the delicious scent of him that I’ve missed so much winding through my senses. ‘And I wanted to tell you that I love you and that I’m a fucking selfish idiot. I know that now, but I’m going to change. For you, Juno—and for me, but mostly for you. And I’m begging you to forgive me. I want you back. With me. Where you belong.’
My whole body is shaking with relief and happiness now. ‘You love me?’ I say, wanting to hear him say it again.
‘Yes. I love you.’
I nod and fold my arms, not sure I’m going to be able to maintain my cool, but determined at least to try for a few more minutes. To torture him for just a little bit longer, as his absence from my life has been torturing me for the past few days.
‘Just tell me one thing. Was it an act at first? Were you pretending for those first few days to have fun with me?’
‘No, Juno, of course not,’ he says fiercely, lifting his hand as if wanting to touch me, then dropping it again, clearly feeling it’s not the right time when I tense a little.
‘Surely you know that, deep down?’ he pleads, his eyes dark with apprehension. ‘I loved having you with me from the beginning. That’s why I wanted you to stay on another week. I couldn’t stand the thought of you leaving.’
‘But you were just following your father’s orders when you initially agreed to our deal?’
He shakes his head. ‘When I started to get to know you I genuinely wanted to help you, Juno, I swear. It wasn’t just about appeasing my father.’
‘I wish you hadn’t lied to me, Sandro.’
He nods. ‘Me too. I’m so sorry. I hate myself for it. Please believe me. I wanted to tell you, but I thought you might leave if you knew what I’d done, and I really didn’t want you to go. And I couldn’t stand the idea of you hating me. I already thought I wasn’t good enough for you and admitting to what I’d done would have proved it. I stopped calling the photographers as soon as I knew they’d taken a few pictures of us at the beginning of the first week, hoping that would be enough. But it seems people are more fascinated by us than I imagined possible.’
I can’t stop the corner of my mouth from quirking at that. ‘I guess we are an unusual match.’
He frowns. ‘Not that unusual. We’re extremely compatible in all the ways that matter.’ He gives me a slow, seductive smile now and I feel the heat of my longing for him intensify.
‘I imagine people looking in will be wondering why someone as intelligent as you would go for a no-talent playboy like me,’ he adds, looking away from me now, down at his hands.
His insecurity tugs at my heart. ‘You have a huge amount of talent—you just haven’t had a chance to show it off yet. As I’ve said from the beginning, you have to get your sculptures in front of people, then you’ll see I’m right.’
‘Actually, I have a confession to make about that,’ he says, looking back into my eyes.
‘Another one?’ The tremor in my voice must have given away my concern because he shakes his head and smiles.
‘A good one, I promise. After you left, I called the guy from the art gallery and showed him my sculptures. He’s agreed to exhibit them for me next month.’
I can’t help myself. I fling my arms around him, grateful for the excuse finally to hold him close. ‘That’s wonderful!’
‘I never would have done it if it wasn’t for you,’ he murmurs into my hair, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close. Leaning back to look me in the eyes again, he reaches up and pushes my fringe out of my face, sweeping his thumb across my cheek in the tender way I’ve come to love. ‘I wanted to prove to you that there’s more to me than I’ve let you believe.’
‘I always knew there was more to you than you wanted me to see,’ I say with a smile.
‘Yeah.’ He nods. ‘I think you saw through me right from the start, my clever girl. You saw the real me. The side of me I’ve hidden from other people for years because I was ashamed of myself for not being smarter or more successful.’
‘You have no reason to be ashamed.’
‘I know that now.’ He smiles and strokes my face again. ‘In fact, I’ve made an appointment to speak to a professional about getting tested for ADHD and to figure out some methods I can use to help me when I’m struggling to concentrate.’
I blink at him in surprise. ‘That’s great.’
‘It’s a start.’
Staring up into his amazing eyes, I know I can’t hold myself back any longer. It’s time to tell him how I feel. ‘You know I’ll always be there for you, don’t you?’ I murmur. ‘Because I love you too.’
He lets out a low moan of relief, dropping his forehead to mine. ‘Thank God!’ He lifts his head again, then presses his mouth to mine, sliding his tongue into my mouth in such a possessive way I shiver with delight.
When we finally come up for air a few minutes later, he says, ‘And you know I’ll be there for you too, right? Always. That’s how it’s going to work from now on.’
‘So, no mistresses and no affairs,’ I say forcefully. ‘I can’t stand the thought of sharing you with someone else.’
He looks taken aback. ‘I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t need to. I don’t want anyone but you, my smart, beautiful, kind girl. You’re everything I want. I love you. That’s the difference. Only you. And I’m going to devote my entire life to making you happy.’
‘I already am happy.’
He solemnly shakes his head. ‘I can’t believe I tried to dazzle you with sex to distract you from my shortcomings. That was never going to work. You always saw straight through me.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I say, grinning mischievously. ‘I seem to remember being pretty dazzled—in fact, so dazzled I might need a reminder about exactly how to do it.’ I give him a mock frown. ‘It’s been a few days and I’m beginning to forget some of the lessons you taught me.’
He grins back, then reaches down and turns the lock on the door. Then he lifts me up, walking us over to the three-seater sofa on the other side of the room.
‘Coming right up,’ he says, and kisses me hard.
* * *
If you liked Good Girl, why not try
King’s Ransom by Jackie Ashenden
Under His Skin by Nicola Marsh
Wicked Heat by Kelli Ireland
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Wild Child
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Wicked Heat
by Kelli Ireland
CHAPTER ONE
ELLA MONTGOMERY PRESSED her forehead against the plane’s small window, her stomach wedged near the top of her throat. She watched as the ground rapidly approached, the pilot executing what felt like a slimly controlled descent through the trade winds. Flying always reminded her just how fragile mortality was. A small mechanical failure. A miscalculated approach. Hell, an unpredicted shift in the wind. Any of it could change her round-trip ticket to a one-way. No refunds. No guarantees.
She held her breath as the tires skipped across the crumbling asphalt runway, the wings flexing far more than anything metal ever should. A flock of feral chickens scattered into the thick brush, necks extended in alarm, the rooster frantic to keep up with his ladies.
The pilot hit the brakes on the twin engines, and the momentum thrust Ella forward in a seat designed to be comfortable for individuals still mastering the fundamentals of addition and subtraction. With her hands gripping the armrests, she gritted her teeth and rode out an arrival more in line with a dirt runway in remote Wyoming rather than her actual destination: Bora Bora, French Polynesia.
The Cessna puttered down the short airstrip before turning sharply and taxiing to the private airport. Two visibly harried baggage handlers tended the luggage. One crouched in the belly of the plane at the next gate over and tossed luggage out the plane’s belly button while the other caught said luggage and created a small pile on the tarmac. To the side of it all stood a lone airport representative in a starched white uniform sporting several leis draped over his arm.
The plane was small enough that the pilot didn’t use the intercom but instead emerged from the cabin. He opened the front exit at the same time a rolling ladder hit the side of the plane, a metallic clank resonating through the cabin.
Then the pilot stood—as much as he could in the compact space—and addressed the passengers in the eight-seat cabin. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Parkaire Field in beautiful Bora Bora. If you’ll gather your personal belongings, your baggage will be available at the foot of the stairs, where you or your driver may retrieve it.”
Seated in the second row from the front, Ella decided to wait out the minirush of fellow travelers anxious to be off the puddle jumper. She watched people contort their bodies into amusing shapes in an effort to retrieve their luggage and make their way to the front. A man who’d sat in the row opposite her tugged with ferocious intent on the handle of the large briefcase he’d shoved under the seat in front of him. The handle gave way and the man lunged ass first into the aisle, plowing into another traveler who stood beside Ella’s seat.
The assaulted passenger lurched sideways, flailing as he tried to regain his balance...but failed. Not just failed, but failed. He tumbled into her lap, all long arms and longer legs. A button from his suit jacket popped free and skipped across Ella’s forehead. Paperwork scattered as the stranger’s messenger bag was upended and a laptop landed on top of her foot.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” the assailant repeated as he retrieved his briefcase and clutched it to his chest with one hand, mopping his forehead with the other.
“No worries. It’s bound to happen in such cramped quarters.”
Without offering to help Ella up, the pardoned man shuffled the few steps to the front of the plane and down the stairs.
“Right,” the stranger on her lap mused in a proper British accent, amusement saturating each word. “Because it’s certainly de rigueur to hip-check fellow passengers.” He twisted around to look down at her, mischief darkening his gaze. “Is it not?”
She shouldn’t engage with him—she knew she shouldn’t—but he was so damned attractive, sitting there in her lap flirting, with the challenge in his eyes so open, that she couldn’t stop herself. Tilting her head in a coquettish manner, she met his gaze head-on. “I suppose it depends, really.”
“Oh?”
She nodded somberly.
One corner of his mouth twitched. “Pray tell, what does it depend on?”
She sat up a little straighter just as he leaned in. Her lips brushed the shell of his ear as she spoke. “I suppose it all comes down to one thing. Is your ass in the habit of assaulting laps?”
“I’ll be honest. I’ve been considering it as a side job.”
“Obviously.”
“Obviously?” he said on a choked laugh.
The stranger twisted and turned as he tried to free himself from the narrow alleyway created by the seat in front of her and her upper body. He managed, but not without accidentally brushing the outer edge of her breast.
His touch made her draw in a sharp breath.
The man cleared his throat and eyed his laptop bag, which rested between her legs.
She wasn’t going to help him retrieve it. Nope. Not any more than she’d stop him from retrieving it.
He considered her for a second before reaching for the bag, twisting a bit more than necessary. The result allowed the back of his free hand to skate down her bared calf.
He might have shivered, but she couldn’t be sure given her own reaction.
She looked him over then let her eyes linger on his face as she answered. “You’re clearly in need of additional funds. The charity shops in your neighborhood must have stopped carrying the best quality Hermès socks or Rolex watches like they used to.” Her gaze landed on his, and eyes the color of dark chocolate stared back with unerring intensity.
If I were a strawberry, I’d totally dip that.
The thought made her grin.
The stranger grinned back. “Penny for your—”
“Not even for a hundred thousand pennies, but thanks.” She barely managed to stifle a sigh. Of course, he
had a British accent. Her personal kryptonite.
Ella smoothed her hair, fighting the urge to fan her face. “You know, if you told me this was your first lap dance, I’d have said you were doing pretty well...right up until you broke that no-touch rule.”
“My first? Ha.” He pushed a lock of errant hair back into place. “You’re perfectly aware that this is precisely how these things go. I impress you with my moves on the first dance. The first is always gratis, by the way. Then you’re enticed to pay for the second dance, wherein I employ my signature moves and render you speechless. And trust me, my lady,” he all but purred, “I’m highly skilled at keeping things professional. Everything is part of a job, even pleasure.”
She chuffed out a laugh, gathering her own things. “Signature moves. You think pretty highly of yourself, Oxford.” Man, he smelled good—cologne that smelled like windblown shores laid over the warm wool of his suit and heat from his skin that carried the essence of him. Drawing a deep breath, she briefly closed her eyes before glancing up to meet his gaze. “I would imagine you’ve had ample opportunities to perfect those moves. Particularly the keep-it-professional routine.”
He tilted his chin down and leaned forward, closing the distance between them. “Pay up and find out,” he said in a soft but unquestionably suggestive tone. “For your convenience, I take all major credit cards—even Diner’s Club. Cash as well. Lady’s preference.”
Her mouth twitched, and she blinked with slow suggestiveness. “I save my bills for tipping.”
“Lucky me,” he murmured.
From the front of the plane, the pilot cleared his throat, clearly fighting laughter.
Ella shot the stranger a sly look. “It seems we’re causing a scene.”
“This is hardly a scene.”
“No? You’re an expert, then?”
He leaned close enough that, this time, it was his lips a whisper from her ear. “A bona fide professional.”
Good Girl Page 15
