Contents
Dedications
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Newsletter and Social Media Links
About the Author
Other books by Carole Mortimer
Copyright © 2019 Carole Mortimer
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Cover Design Copyright © Glass Slipper WebDesign
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Photo Copyright © Period Images
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Editor: Linda Ingmanson
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Formatting: Glass Slipper WebDesign
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ISBN: 978-1-910597-75-0
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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All Rights Reserved.
Dedications
My husband, Peter
Chapter One
“Bryce?”
He let a couple of seconds tick by before looking up from the newspaper spread out on the coffee table in front of him.
It was his way of giving the person who had interrupted his solitude the time to rethink their decision of speaking to him and decide to just walk away again instead.
But he’d known as soon as he heard her voice that wasn’t going to happen this time.
Sunday mornings spent in a local coffee shop, drinking several cups of his favorite blend of coffee as he took his time reading the week’s news, was his private time, and sacrosanct. His family of parents, five brothers, and a stepsister had always respected his need to unwind at the end of what was more often than not a tough assignment for Steele Protectors, the security company owned by the six Steele brothers. This week had been no exception. Bryce had successfully resolved a dangerous kidnapping situation in New Orleans, but had only flown back into the country early this morning.
The young woman standing beside the coffee table in front of him obviously wasn’t aware of any of that, or she would have known better than to interrupt.
A young woman who was, unfortunately, more than a little familiar.
The first time Bryce met her, he had guessed she was probably aged in her midtwenties, maybe five feet and six inches in height. Her body was deliciously curvaceous, and she had below-shoulder-length, slightly curling black hair that today was pulled back and secured in a ponytail at her crown. Her complexion was creamy smooth, and she had full and pouting lips. Her eyes were a deep blue, and her cute nose slightly turned up at its tip—
WTF!
Bryce had never even thought the word cute before today in connection to a woman or anything else!
“Who wants to know?” he answered evasively as he rested his arm across the back of the comfortable leather couch situated at the back of the coffee shop. It was his usual place to sit, well away from the windows and other coffee drinkers. Choosing to have his back to the wall looking out was as instinctive to Bryce as breathing.
In the same way this woman had stood to the side of the coffee table rather than having her back to the rest of the room?
Her head tilted to one side, those pouting lips curving slightly upwards. Maybe not in amusement, but definitely with irony. “You don’t remember me, do you.” It was a statement rather than a question.
Bryce deliberately looked her over for a second time, taking in her appearance in a royal-blue sweater, the same color as her eyes and worn beneath a black leather jacket, with fitted black denims and ankle boots. She had slender hands, the nails unvarnished, and she wore only the minimum of makeup; just a pale lip gloss and black mascara on long lashes.
Making her a young woman who either didn’t care for things such as wearing nail polish and makeup, or she worked in a job where both of those things were frowned upon.
Bryce already knew it was the latter.
Just as he had taken one look at this woman when they met five weeks ago and known she was trouble. For him. Because at thirty-five years old, he was so drawn to this woman that he knew if she asked it of him, Bryce would betray everything and everyone he held dear.
“You’re Bella Smith,” he stated.
She was also the young policewoman who had been on guard duty at the hospital all those weeks ago when Bryce’s stepsister had been admitted after being abducted and beaten.
A young policewoman Bryce would have thought had every reason not to want to see or talk to him ever again after he had asked for and been given her cell phone number and then deliberately didn’t—not forgotten—to call her.
He had done so in the hope he would never see Bella again. Never have to fight against the instant attraction to her that, after the initial single glance at her at that initial meeting, had almost taken his legs out from under him.
At least he was sitting down today, although his rapidly engorging cock was making his jeans extremely uncomfortable.
He had no idea why it was this particular woman who had such an effect on him. Well…apart from the fact she was everything that he found attractive in a woman. Intelligent. Stunningly beautiful. Curvaceous. There was also a strength and purpose to her that appealed to and pierced through the barrier Bryce kept about his own emotions. Probably because he recognized a kindred spirit. Someone he believed showed little or no emotion on the surface, but inside seethed with a whirling vortex of it.
When—if, damn it—the two of them ever went to bed together, the sheets would more than likely catch fire.
All of which made it harder for Bryce to accept Bella Smith was currently standing in the coffee shop he frequented on a Sunday morning when he was in London. He doubted it was a coincidence, mainly because he didn’t believe in them. If Bella had chosen to enter the coffee shop where Bryce was, rather than one of the thousands of other coffee shops in London, then she had done so with purpose. Bryce believed that purpose was to talk to him. A supposition confirmed by the fact she hadn’t even made the pretense of purchasing a cup of coffee but had come straight over to the table where he sat.
His eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”
Bella almost smiled at the suspicion she could see in Bryce Steele’s pale gray eyes. A suspicion he made no effort to hide.
She clearly remembered the night she’d met this man. She had been given the duty of standing guard outside the hospital room of the person who was later convicted of having Bryce’s stepsister abducted and beaten.
All the Steele brothers she had met or seen during that time had been tall and imposing and too attractive for their own or any woman’s good. But Bryce was more. He gave off a dangerous vibe, which, along with his classic bad-boy good looks, warned other people to keep their distance.
Several inches over six feet and probably aged in his mid-thirties, Bryce had overlong dark hair, a face dominated by steely gray eyes—the eyes of a killer?—and his features appeared as if they had been chiseled out of marble. Five weeks ago, he had been dressed much like he was today, in a black leather jacket over a black T-shirt, faded and well-worn jeans, and black biker boots.
To say Bella had been surprised when he asked for her cell number would be an understatement. An English policewoman’s uniform wasn’t exactly flattering to her curves, nor were the ugly flat shoes she had to wear with it. The only reason Bella could think of for Bryce’s inter
est was that maybe the bad boy was aroused by female authority figures.
“Don’t worry,” she drawled. “I didn’t look through the window, spot you sitting over here, and decide to come inside to upbraid you for not reconnecting after that night we met at the hospital.” She gave a brief but thorough glance around the coffee shop. “You obviously changed your mind about asking me for a date, which is as much a man’s prerogative as it is a woman’s.”
Bryce hadn’t changed his mind so much as run as far and as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Within days of meeting Bella, he’d offered to go to and then flown over to New Orleans to take over the retrieval job his brother Atticus had been doing for their company when he was called home after Jenna’s abduction.
With Jenna due to be discharged from hospital, but still highly vulnerable, Atticus had stated it was his intention to remain in London to protect her. Bryce hadn’t hesitated to pack a bag and take his brother’s place in New Orleans. The opposite; those weeks in New Orleans had put enough distance between himself and Bella Smith for Bryce to decide he must have imagined that visceral reaction he’d had to her.
Two minutes in her company today and he knew he had only been kidding himself, and that everything he remembered about Bella—her determination to do her job, along with her beauty and those arousing curves—was all still true.
For some reason, this woman pressed every one of Bryce’s buttons. To the point that right now he wanted to both protect her at the same time as he wanted to turn her around, put her on her knees, and release his fully erect cock so he could fuck her over the low table in front of him, the other coffee drinkers be damned.
His mouth thinned. “I asked why you were looking for me.”
Her brows rose. “I don’t recall saying I was.”
“All the coffee shops in all the world and you have to walk into this one?” he misquoted. “I don’t think so, somehow.”
“You’re right,” she conceded heavily. “I started looking for you a week ago. It took me a couple of days, even using police resources, to discover where you live. When I went to the apartment building, I was told by the guy on the reception desk that you were currently out of the country and he had no idea when you would be returning. I’ve been going back every day since to see if you were back. Then this morning, I saw you leaving the building as I arrived and decided to follow you. Here, as it happens.” She gave another cursory glance at their surroundings.
He scowled darkly. “Do you have any idea how stalkerish that all sounds?”
Bella’s shrug was dismissive. “What other choice did I have? You might have taken the number of my cell phone a month ago, but you didn’t reciprocate.”
Because Bryce wasn’t in the habit of giving out his cell phone number to anyone. His family had the number, of course, and a couple of guys he was close to from the years they had spent together in Special Ops, but otherwise, Bryce wasn’t a sociable or social man.
He hadn’t wanted to be sociable with Bella either, had just wanted to fuck her until he was sated or over the attraction.
Something his aching and engorged cock told him he still wanted to do. “So we come back to my original question. Why were you looking for me?”
She grimaced. “Could I sit down before I explain?”
He scowled his irritation. “If you must.”
Bella gave a chuckle as she dropped into the armchair next to the couch where he sat. “You really don’t like having your solitude interrupted, do you?”
He drew in a deep breath. “I only got back in the country a few hours ago, and if I’d wanted company, then I would have invited someone to join me,” he dismissed. “But what I really don’t like is being cornered by a woman I barely know, and I’m not sure I want to know, when she still hasn’t told me what she wants from me.”
Color bloomed in those ivory cheeks. “It’s a little delicate.”
His mouth twisted. “I’m not easily shocked.”
Her gaze did another quick scan of their surroundings. “I didn’t think you would be—”
“How many?”
Her eyes widened. “I beg your pardon…?”
Bryce gave the room a pointed glance. “So far, your gaze has swept the room three times since you started talking to me, checking on the comings and goings of the other coffee drinkers. So how many people are in here?”
“Twenty-six,” she answered immediately. “There were twenty-three, but two of them left and then five more walked in. There are fifteen females and eleven males.”
“Do any of them pose a threat?”
“In my estimation, no.”
“How many exits, besides the obvious entrance at the front of the building?”
“Two.” Again, she answered without hesitation. “One behind the counter and through the kitchen. The second one is down the hallway and past the rest rooms.” She gave a rueful smile. “I feel as if I’m being interviewed for a job.”
His brows rose. “Do you want one?”
“Not right now, no.”
Bryce nodded. “My reason for asking is that if you’ve gathered all that information in the few minutes we’ve been talking, why the hell have you come to me for help?”
“I didn’t say I had—”
“You didn’t need to.” His gaze swept over her from her head to her booted feet. “If you were merely stalking me— To an outsider, that’s exactly what your behavior looks like,” he assured when she let out a protest. “If you were stalking me with the idea of…renewing our acquaintance, then you would have looked and dressed differently.”
Her brows rose. “You sound as if you’re talking from experience.”
He shrugged. “It isn’t unknown for a woman to seek me out so that we can…meet up a second time.”
“Not a third or a fourth time?
“No.”
“Only ever the once?”
“Yes.”
“How many women didn’t accept that?”
Bryce half smiled at the way she had turned the question round on him. “Four at the last count.”
Bella grimaced. “Maybe you should try ramping back the one-night-only vibe you have going? It represents more of a challenge than a deterrent to most women.”
“You?”
“No.”
“You knew about the one-night-only thing, and yet you gave me your cell phone number anyway?”
“Maybe occasionally I like to live as dangerously as the next woman? In your case, I thought I was the next woman,” she added self-derisively.
“On reflection, I decided you aren’t the one-night-only type.”
Her brows rose. “Then what type am I?”
Bryce gave another chuckle. “This is one of those trick questions ladies like to ask, isn’t it? One where no matter how the man answers, he’s going to get lambasted for either jumping to conclusions at the least or being called a misogynistic bastard at worst.”
Bella shrugged. “Could be. And what’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” She looked down at her jeans, sweater, and leather jacket. “It looks pretty similar to what you’re wearing.”
“And on a woman, it’s practical, not sexy. You’re also wearing the bare minimum of makeup.”
She snorted. “It’s Sunday morning. I would hardly be wearing heavy makeup, four-inch heels, and a dress that barely covered my arse!”
Bryce almost laughed at the edge of indignation in Bella’s tone. She hadn’t liked being told what she was wearing looked practical rather than sexy. Truth be told, Bryce thought this woman looked sexy in anything. Or nothing. Just thinking about that was enough to cause his engorged cock to throb. “You might if you were doing the walk of shame home from the night before,” he drawled.
Her nose—did he really think it was cute?—wrinkled. “Can’t say as I’ve ever done that.”
“No?”
She glared. “No.”
Bryce did chuckle this time. “Led a sheltered life, have you?”
Her eyes narrowed to blue slits. “I’ve been too busy, first getting a degree in accountancy, then joining the police force, to have time for experiencing things like the walk of shame the morning after.”
His brows rose. “You have a degree in accountancy but chose to join the police force instead?”
“I did the degree to please my br—family,” she snapped. “Joining the police force was for me.”
“And how did your br…family react to that?” Bryce taunted with deliberation.
“Disowned me,” she stated flatly.
His eyes widened. “Bit extreme, isn’t it?”
Bella snorted. “My family is one of extremes. Toe the line, join the family business, or get out.”
“Ouch.” Bryce winced. “I’m guessing the family business isn’t law enforcement?”
She let out a humorless laugh. “Hardly.”
In spite of himself, Bryce felt a growing interest to know more. “Then what is it?”
They had come round to this question earlier than Bella would have liked. In fact, this whole conversation had become much more personal far more quickly than she would have wished. Not because Bryce was easy to talk to, because he wasn’t, but he did have a way of asking the right questions and making it clear he expected a truthful answer. It was—
Bella glanced instinctively towards the door of the coffee shop as the bell above it made a tinkling noise to announce another customer had entered. Her shoulders tensed.
She was pretty sure she didn’t personally know the man who had paused briefly as he entered before moving to stand in the queue waiting to order his coffee.
Bryce (Steele Protectors 3) Page 1