Mr Right Across the Street: The perfect escape for lockdown and from one flat to another share in the most feel good romantic comedy of 2021! (The Kathryn Freeman Romcom Collection, Book 4)

by Kathryn Freeman

  She laughed at his silliness, but the flat green of his eyes told her he was upset. Hurt, no doubt, at what he believed her silence implied. That she didn’t trust him. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to go quiet on you.’ She rose to her feet. ‘I’d like to see your place.’ Walking up to him, she gave his arm a nudge. ‘See the famous weight room where you post your messages.’

  Amusement flickered across his handsome face. ‘You mean the room where you ogle me as I work out.’

  ‘I do not.’ The lie burst from her with an impressive degree of righteous indignation. She might have convinced him, if her cheeks hadn’t been burning.

  ‘Of course you don’t,’ he replied smoothly, clearly struggling to keep a straight face. ‘Just as I don’t put on a show, moving closer to the window when I see you at your desk.’ As she tried to take in what he was saying – that he liked her eyes on him – he grasped her hand and led her to the door. ‘Come on, I need to get out of this place for a few hours.’

  And that, she realised with a mixture of shame and embarrassment, was why he wanted to take her back to his. Not because he wanted to jump her, but because he’d been working for eight straight hours and wanted to get home.

  The first thing she noticed when she set foot inside his flat was how neat it was. She’d assumed the carefree bartender with the casual strut and lazy smile would have an equally laid-back approach to other areas of his life. Instead the work surfaces in his kitchen were clear, the sink lacking any lunch/breakfast dishes that hadn’t yet found their way into the dishwasher, and his sofa was free of the junk that seemed to collect on hers.

  ‘Bet it looks just like yours, huh?’ he asked as he flipped on some low lighting.

  ‘Mine without the clutter.’ And that’s when she noticed the second thing. ‘Err, there’s a giant rat with long ears jumping onto your sofa.’

  Luke followed the direction of her gaze and sighed. ‘Pickles, how many times do I have to tell you, no jumping on the sofa unless I’m on it.’ With the ease of a man who’d done it thousands of times before, he scooped the furry animal into his big hands and kissed the tip of its nose. ‘Pickles, meet Mia. Mia, meet the woman I share my flat with.’

  ‘Wow.’ Mia stared, transfixed, into the rabbit’s deep brown eyes. ‘Dare I ask why you have a rabbit?’

  She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination but he looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Probably a conversation for another day.’ Nodding towards the hallway, he asked, ‘Do you want to see the weight/message room?’

  ‘Of course.’ She mentally slotted Pickles into the increasing list of questions she wanted to ask him but hadn’t yet. Along with why he’d gone straight into bartending when his family and friends were clearly academic achievers. And why he seemed to prefer casual relationships based on sex, rather than anything more meaningful, when it was clear he was a lot deeper than he let on.

  She smiled when she saw the pile of poster paper and coloured marker pens as he led her into his spare room. Weights and dumb-bells were stacked neatly along the wall, and a giant multi-gym dominated the centre of the room. ‘So this is where you put on your show.’

  He grinned, flexing his biceps, and though the gesture was funny, the reaction of her body was far more primitive. She’d never been a woman impressed by male strength, by a ripped body, yet now, when she looked at Luke, she couldn’t not see how fit he looked. Couldn’t not wonder what it would be like to feel those hard muscles over her, under her. Surrounding her.

  Desperate to shake off the increasing arousal, she wandered over to the window, staring into her own flat. ‘You know I don’t just stare at you when I’m working.’

  ‘There are other dudes flexing their muscles at you?’

  He said it with such clear disgust, she had to laugh. ‘I was referring to the woman who lives in the flat next to you.’ She turned to face him. ‘Do you know her?’

  Now it wasn’t her imagination. He definitely looked uncomfortable, like she’d unearthed some guilty secret he didn’t want to share. ‘Yeah, I know her.’

  Clearly another woman he’d slept with. Jealousy burned through her, and Mia hated both the feeling, and what it represented. She could no longer claim she saw Luke as just a friend. ‘I think of her as Immaculate Woman,’ she rambled on, because talking was better than thinking. ‘She’s always so put together. Every morning she’s at her desk, dressed all prim and tidy, before I’ve even managed to fall out of bed.’

  It hadn’t escaped her notice that of the women she knew he’d slept with, all were glamorous, carefully put together. And very different to her.

  Luke did not want to talk about his neighbour. Just as he didn’t want to talk about why he, a thirty-four-year-old guy, owned a rabbit. They were conversations for a later date, when Mia knew him better and, he hoped, would judge him less harshly.

  ‘That sounds about right.’ When she frowned over at him, he clarified. ‘I mean about my neighbour. She’s very … uptight, I think you’d call it.’ He cleared his throat. ‘So, the bar.’ It came to something when he’d rather talk about his current screw-up, than a past screw-up. ‘Are you still interested? Because if you are, I’m going to need a drink and a sit down.’

  ‘Yes, sure.’

  ‘We could talk about something else if you prefer. Something more fun,’ he added so she wasn’t tempted to go back to the rabbit or the neighbour. ‘Or if you don’t want to talk, we could watch a film.’ He considered her. ‘Maybe dust off my PlayStation? I bet you think you’re a whizz on the games console, being a computer nerd and all that.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that a challenge?’

  He grinned. ‘Nah, think of it as more of a subtle enquiry. Whether I lay down the challenge depends on your answer.’

  ‘I don’t think I’m a whizz.’ She put her hands on her hips and gave him a long, slow, cocky smile. ‘I know I am.’

  God, he loved that look on her. ‘Bring it on then, super-geek.’

  She wagged a finger at him. ‘Sure, after you’ve told me what Phil was inferring about the bar.’ She frowned. ‘Didn’t you say you bought the place from Bill?’

  ‘I did.’ He was loath to say too much because Bill was, well, Bill. ‘Come on, let’s get a drink and see if Pickles will let us on the sofa.’

  A few minutes later they carried their drinks – two whiskies, he didn’t do cocktails in his flat – back to the living area. Pickles frustratingly jumped up to sit between them, twitching her nose like she didn’t approve of Mia sitting close to him.

  Nursing his glass, Luke leant forward, resting his arms on his knees, and started to explain about the rather large gap Phil had found in the accounts.

  Mia gasped. ‘Bill was fiddling the books?’

  ‘No, God no. We think it was his bookkeeper. Bill’s great at running a bar, but like me, he wasn’t so great with numbers. And he was too bloody trusting.’

  He could feel Mia’s gaze on him. ‘You haven’t told him about the shortfall, have you?’

  ‘No.’ He turned to Mia. ‘And please keep this to yourself. The guy’s worked his arse off for the last God knows how many years. He deserves a good, long retirement.’

  ‘Semi-retirement,’ she corrected. ‘He still works for you.’

  ‘Yeah, now and again. Says Pamela likes him better when she’s not seen him all day.’

  Mia smiled. ‘Funny.’ Then her face sobered, and as she placed a hand on his cheek, his heart bounced against his ribs. ‘You’re a really good guy, Luke Doyle.’

  He wanted to wallow in her kind words, to lap them up like flowers drink in the sun. Yet it wasn’t true, was it? He wasn’t all good. He only had to ask any of the long list of women in his phone. Good would be the last word they’d use to describe him. Funny, hot, sexy, maybe. But some would probably say he was hard, unfeeling and selfish, too. Shame rolled through him. He’d thought what he was doing was harmless fun, that he wasn’t hurting anyone, yet now he saw it all through Mia’s eyes and wondered
if that had ever really been the case.

  Her hand was still on his face though, her expression soft, as if she really liked what she saw. Not just on the outside, but on the inside. Probably that would change the more she got to know him, but for now he was selfish enough to grab what she offered with both hands. ‘Thank you.’ He paused while he got his emotions back in check. ‘It’s only fair to warn you that while the jury is still out on whether I’m a good guy, what is undisputed is that I’m a flaming awesome gamer.’

  Mia fell back against the sofa, laughing so hard it upset Pickles, who twitched her nose and scampered off.

  Good, he thought as he slid closer to Mia, so close he could feel the press of her thigh against his. He didn’t want a bucktoothed chaperone.

  They argued for a few minutes over which game to play, in the end settling for Rocket League as, in Mia’s words, it had less guts and gore than Call of Duty.

  ‘I’m not sure if I should admit this,’ he said as they waited for the game to load. ‘But knowing you play CoD actually turns me on.’

  Her eyes grew like saucers and then she started to cough, more of a splutter really, like the shock had caused her to inhale her own saliva.

  ‘I’m thinking, by your reaction, I shouldn’t have admitted it?’

  She swallowed a few times. ‘God, I don’t know what to do with that information.’ Then she pointed to the screen. ‘Luckily I don’t need to do anything right now, because I’m about to kick your arse.’

  He didn’t have a chance to reply, because the game started and soon he needed all his focus to stop her from annihilating him.

  God, the speed of her thumbs over that controller. It was flaming awesome. As she cursed, yelled and generally behaved like every guy gamer he’d ever played with, Luke took a moment just to appreciate her. It was like having a best mate over, but one he also wanted to make out with. Something he could say, with absolute certainty, he’d never wanted to do with Jim, Tony or Gary.

  ‘You’re going down, you sucker!’

  At Mia’s gleeful exclamation, Luke snapped his attention back to the screen, but it was too late. The game was over. ‘Damn it, I never lose.’

  ‘Because you only play in the minor leagues.’

  He took in her flushed face, the gleam in her eye, the gloating expression. And felt his heart cartwheel. Shit, hearts didn’t do that because you liked someone. They did it when you were falling for them.

  He pushed aside the thought, desperate to find firmer footing. ‘No way am I minor league. I’m a pro. You just distracted me with all your shouting and swearing.’ She started to shake her head dismissively so he added, ‘And with your warm thigh pressed against mine.’

  That shut her up. Immediately she glanced down, and though he knew he was right – hell, he’d been hyper aware of her all through the game – it was disappointing to see she hadn’t realised, until now.

  Then again, she also hadn’t moved away. Instead her lips parted, and her breathing became faster.

  ‘Name your prize,’ he said huskily, staring into blue eyes that looked as turbulent as he felt.

  She licked her lips. Consciously or unconsciously? ‘What are the choices?’

  ‘I can kiss you for a minute. Kiss you for two minutes. Or kiss you until you tell me to stop.’

  The breath from her laugh fluttered across his face. ‘That’s quite a narrow choice.’

  ‘What can I say? Loser gets to pick the prize for the winner. House rules.’

  A shadow crossed her face. ‘Do you always give away kisses?’

  He swore under his breath. ‘It was a joke. I don’t invite women here, Mia. I don’t game with them either. Only friends.’ He reached to touch her lips. ‘And you are most definitely the only friend I’ve ever wanted to kiss.’

  A hint of a smile returned to her face. ‘Tony and Gary don’t do it for you, huh?’

  His lips returned the smile, but his eyes, his focus, remained on her. He couldn’t explain why the moment felt so significant, why his heart was racing, his stomach a mess of twisted knots. All because of the woman sitting next to him, her mouth only inches from his. ‘You’re the only one I want, Mia.’ Because he knew she wasn’t ready yet, didn’t trust him enough, he lightened the mood. ‘So, which prize is it to be? A, B or C?’

  ‘C.’ Her voice came out in a whisper.

  Luke felt his lips tingle, his groin harden. ‘Excellent choice.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Mia stared into Luke’s eyes and felt her whole body shudder. God, she was drowning in him. Unable to move away, unable to even untangle her gaze from the intense green of his.

  Why had she chosen be kissed until she told him to stop? It might sound the most sensible, giving her the control, but if it was anything like the last kiss she couldn’t see herself ever asking him to stop.

  ‘Are you ready?’

  Good God, he was sexy. The most gorgeous, most attractive man she’d ever met, never mind kissed. All those average guys she’d dated, the likes of Pete and Danny… Elle was right, she’d settled.

  Yet was Luke, a ridiculously hot, decidedly un-average charmer, any better for her?

  ‘Mia?’ A small crease appeared between his dark brows.

  ‘Sorry.’ Stuff the doubts, she was only going to kiss him. ‘I’m ready.’

  His mouth grazed hers, the mere hint of a touch, and her body trembled. ‘I never thought Smurfs would be this sexy.’

  She huffed out a laugh, feeling a slow sizzle in her stomach. She’d forgotten to add insanely funny to his list of attributes. ‘I never thought I’d have to wait so long for my prize.’

  It was all the push he needed. Immediately his lips found hers, and this time there was no slow build-up. This time his tongue plundered, his mouth almost feverish against hers. It was like he was trying to inhale her, to drink her in, and the evidence of his hunger, his need, gave her a sharp thrill. Before long he was leaning them both back along the sofa, his powerful body stretched out over hers, the long, hard length of him evident as it pressed against her thigh, creating bursts of heat across her skin.

  Still his mouth tortured and teased, but now his hand had moved to her breast, cupping it lightly over her dress. ‘Is this okay?’

  ‘Yes,’ she croaked. It felt more than okay. It felt like he was searing her skin, even through the material. Her nipples were hard peaks, her core a molten heat. But if they went further, surely the route back to friends would be blocked and God, she did not want to lose this man from her life.

  His hand left her breast and smoothed down her side. When he raised his eyes to look at her they were no longer green but flecked with orange, burning like flames. ‘Kissing you is like a roaring fire on a cold winter’s day. A pint of lager on a sunny day.’ He bent his head again, planting a trail of kisses along her jaw, then across her cheeks and up to her forehead. He smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘United winning the Champions League.’

  Laughter bubbled in her chest, even as her body ached and throbbed with the feel of him. ‘Now, I’m flattered.’

  ‘You should be.’ He nibbled lightly at her lips, causing pleasure to zing through her. ‘It’s the most romantic phrase a Mancunian can utter.’

  ‘I’m always looking for romantic phrases.’

  ‘Ah yes, for your book.’ He was half sprawled across her, his arousal very evident, yet he really did seem content to talk, to kiss. To just be with her. ‘Stick with me and you’ll have plenty of inspiration.’

  She didn’t reply, couldn’t because once again he was kissing her. Lighter than before, more playful than hungry, yet equally as potent. Time passed, and Mia began to feel more and more boneless. If she closed her eyes, she could sleep here, Luke’s body nestled against her, his lips dancing across her skin…

  She jerked upright as she felt something jump onto her stomach. And stared straight into a pair of inquisitive brown eyes.

  ‘Pickles, how many times do I have to tell you not to ju
mp on guests? It’s rude.’ Luke sighed and eased himself upright, cradling the rabbit against his chest. ‘It’s only me who likes you.’ He lifted one of her floppy ears and whispered into it. ‘And big hint, I won’t like you much longer if you scare Mia away.’

  As if she understood him, Pickles turned to look at her. ‘Does her nose always twitch like that, or is she plotting ways to get rid of me so she can have you all to herself?’

  Luke chuckled. ‘Her nose always twitches, and the fact that she jumped on you means she likes you. When the guys come round, she scarpers.’ After dropping Pickles gently back onto the floor, his gaze skimmed Mia’s face. ‘Shall we continue where we left off, or has rabbit interruptus effectively killed the mood?’

  Snuggling back down with him sounded exactly what she wanted, but Mia was acutely aware that if they did, she might end up forgetting why sleeping with him was a bad idea. ‘I’d better get back.’ She glanced at her watch, and winced. ‘It’s three in the morning.’

  ‘Umm.’ Reaching for her hand, he entwined their fingers. ‘You don’t need to go back, you know. I have a perfectly good couch you can sleep on. Or a bed you’re welcome to, and I can sleep on the couch.’ He paused, and the air around them seemed to electrify. ‘Or we could share my bed.’

  The saliva from her mouth disappeared, and what seemed like a swarm of butterflies began to flap in her stomach. Her flat was in the same complex, it really wasn’t far, yet the thought of just crashing here, with him … the butterflies flapped harder.

  It was a big step though. Was it really sensible to make it so late at night, with alcohol potentially muddying the waters? She wasn’t drunk, but she had knocked back a few beers, a Blue Mia and a whisky. ‘I thought the sheets weren’t clean.’

  He smiled, releasing her hand to trace a finger down her cheek, his gaze soft. ‘I can swap them. Or I can walk you back. Or we can do anything in between.’