Never Say Never (Written in the Stars Book 2)

by Brittany Holland

  I’m lost in his ocean eyes as we sit drinking each other in. He seems just as off put by seeing me as I am him. It occurs to me I haven’t been intimate with someone in a long time. And here I am, sitting across from this gorgeous, mysterious man, getting turned on with the smell of fish and chips in the air. After I told myself it was best not to see him again, after I resounded to the idea of staying alone for a while to sort out my life, here we are.

  “Scarlett?” he questions, and I blink hoping, he can’t see the desire plain as day on my face.

  “Hmmm?” I reply. What did he say?

  “I said, would you like to order? Are you hungry?” he asks, the amusement in his tone clueing me in that he just may be on to me. I forgot how fun flirty banter can be.

  “Yes, thank you. I’ll have the fish and chips with a half lager.” My tongue reaches out to wet my bottom lip. “I’m starved.”

  His eyes widen just a bit before he goes to bar to place my order.

  Something about him makes me feel like someone else. Someone who isn’t tarnished or helpless. Carefree, no secrets, no lies. No ulterior motives. Someone I want to be.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cohen

  Looking over my shoulder from the bar, I study her sitting in the booth, staring straight ahead and lost in her thoughts. I didn’t expect to bump into her. I knew it was a possibility, but it wasn’t premediated this time. No stalking, no bump and spill. My stomach suddenly drops at the thought. If she knew about all the times before, she wouldn’t be sitting in my booth with that dreamy look in her eyes. She’d be running far, far away from me. Instead of focusing on the things I’ve done, I think about the things I want to do. Sitting across from her and having a drink is at the top of that list, among other things.

  After the day I had today confronting James, she’s just what I need.

  I place her order and make my way back to the booth, feeling her eyes on me every step of the way.

  “How have you been?” I ask, sliding back into the booth, careful to avoid bringing up the incident from this past weekend. For now. Although, I have some news about Alan Anderson she might be relieved to hear.

  “Okay. Thank you, and yourself?” she answers, her eyes never leaving mine.

  “Pretty good.” I drum my fingers on the table, finding her eyes have left mine in favor of staring at my hands tapping on the nicked wood.

  “How’s work?” I inquire, and she lifts those gorgeous violet eyes back to me.

  “Busy. We’re preparing for this annual event, the London Lost Foundation Gala. Have you heard of it?” Excitement laces her tone. This must be important to her.

  “I actually have, but I’m afraid I don’t know a great deal about it, since I’m not from here,” I add.

  “Oh, I just assumed you were. From here, I mean,” she says softly, dare I say disappointed.

  “I was born near here, but I’m actually from all over,” I offer a vague response, and she continues.

  “Well, it’s a corporation founded by my business partner and friend, Piers Nichols, our other childhood friend, Theodore Stone, and myself. It helps inner-city kids in London who otherwise wouldn’t have safe childcare, weekend meals, or after school programs, and its main focus is to provide a safe place and educational opportunities to kids who live in poverty or on the streets. The forgotten and lost.” I hear the sadness in her tone.

  “Wow. What an incredible thing you’re doing.”

  “This charity isn’t just about looking good in the public.” She blushes. “It’s about giving the silenced a voice.”

  “I didn’t mean—” I start.

  “Oh, I know. It’s just so many assume it’s an event for the wealthy to dress up and parade in front of the Paps. But it’s more than that. This event is everything. It helps fund the majority of our the operating expenses for the entire year. We supplement the difference, but this is a major part.”

  The barman calls out her order, and I step away to grab the food and a fresh round of drinks for us.

  “This looks amazing.” She takes a deep breath, leaning her head back with a tiny moan. My body hardens in response to the sound escaping her heart-shaped lips as she takes a bite.

  “That good?” I chuckle, glad to see a woman who enjoys her food as much as I do.

  “Better.” She licks a tiny drop of stray tartar from her fingertip before picking up another piece and holding it out to me.

  Leaning forward, I blow on the steaming bite before taking the crispy golden fish into my mouth. Delicious. My lips brush her fingertips, careful to take every single morsel of what she’s offering.

  Our eyes lock, and before she can pull her hand away, I grab it with my own and place a quick kiss to the backs of her fingers before releasing it back to her. “Delicious, indeed. Thank you.”

  Her mouth parts ever so slightly, watching me curiously before curling into a wicked smile. “Well, I hope you enjoyed it, because that’s all you’re getting.” Her words are laced with double meaning, of that I’m sure. So, I play along.

  “It’s probably for the best, I have a very large appetite, and I’m afraid I’m not very good at sharing.” I leave her to think on that while I wash down the flakey, buttery fish with a drink.

  Since I’ve seemed to leave her at a loss for words, I attempt to cool things down and continue the conversation while she sips on her own lager.

  “So, it sounds like this organization is something very close to your heart?” I ask, encouraging her to elaborates a little more.

  “Subtle,” she teases, wiping the foam from her lip with the back of her hand. “But yes, captain obvious, it is quite personal. To me and my co-founders. We were all orphaned in one way or another.” The lighthearted feel evaporates from the space between us.

  “I’m sorry,” I offer, feeling like an arse for pushing the issue. I wanted to keep her talking and hopefully learn something about Piers, but didn’t entirely see that coming. My research seemed to have some holes in it, and I vaguely remember hearing about that at the funeral. My thoughts were a bit all over the place that day.

  “Don’t be,” she dismisses my apology. “All of us lost, some of broken, some abandoned, but we all ended up at Everlend Estate, in the care of an incredible woman, Wendy Darling Black. She was a mother goose of sorts, taking the lot of us in and giving us so much more than just food and shelter.”

  I bristle at the mention of Wendy’s name. James’ wife. Just like at the funeral, she’s painted as a saint, the woman I was groomed to loath. The longer I stay in London, the more confused I become.

  “Piers, Teddy, and myself were raised at the estate. The Lost Boys we called ourselves.” She smiles thoughtfully, and I have a hard time imagining this gorgeous, sensual, and feminine woman sitting before me as a boy.

  “So, these lost boys, either of them your boyfriend?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

  “Oh, no. Nothing like that.” She blushes under my stare. “Just childhood friends and colleagues.”

  “One of the boys, were you?” I tease, raking my gaze over her.

  “Once upon a time I was.” She lifts her chin, and I admire her spirit. “There were many kids there, but the ones I considered family were Piers and Teddy. Theo…well, I call him Teddy, much to his dislike…but Theodore is a brilliant anthropology professor here in London at the University. He is more of a silent partner, where Piers and I are more hands-on with the organization. Piers founded and runs PAN industries. He’s my partner.”

  “From nothing came something.” I get what she’s trying to say.

  “Exactly. Had we not had that chance, weren’t saved, who knows where we would be.” She pushes her plate away. “I’m stuffed.”

  “This is your way of giving back?” I ask, and she nods, but I can tell she wants to say more. I’m careful not to ask too many questions, especially about Piers and PAN Industries. I’ve already decided I can’t use her—I won’t.

  She was supposed to
be a pawn in a game of revenge, but I have a feeling I’m the one getting played. Every move I make now is to protect her. From Alan’s roaming hands, Piers’ rejection, and even from myself. I’m torn because with every passing second, I want her more. And I know once I have her there will be no going back.

  I thought I might never see her again, and then she walks into this pub. Now, I just want to keep her company. Keep her. Of all the gin joints…

  “I’m actually hoping to expand our services, but with being so busy at PAN, and the retreat, the Gala, it’s all been a bit much.” She toys with her drink, looking down at the table.

  “What about your partner, this Piers fellow?” Her eyes flash up to meet mine. “He wasn’t at the retreat either, right?”

  “He’s a little preoccupied with some family stuff right now.” She quickly closes the subject and looks away. It seems Scarlett can add loyal to her list of qualities, because I know she has feelings for him. I also know he’s not available. She may be a woman scorned, but she’s an excellent poker player. The more I find out about her, the more I want to know about her.

  “So, this expansion?” I push to get us back to neutral territory.

  “Right. I want to connect with the proper individuals to train a special section for runaways. More specifically, those at risk for being trafficking victims. I want counselors, security specialist, and even to possibly work with local authorities to reunite survivors and their families. Long term, I would like to see this program offer everything from prevention to rescue.”

  I’m speechless. There is so much more to her than meets the eye. She’s damaged, but so strong. She’s determined not to need help, nor accept it, and she puts off this cool and aloof vibe. Yet, she just confessed, without realizing it, she has a heart. A very large one.

  Her voice trails off, and she blushes.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bore you. It’s just something I’m very passionate about.” She tears at the edges of a paper napkin.

  “Not at all. It’s just…wow. That’s an incredible thing that you want to do, I just wasn’t expecting it. I hope it all works out.” The wheels in my mind start turning as I think about what type of contribution I could make. From a security and technology standpoint.

  Then I remind myself I won’t be here. I’m only here temporarily. For a purpose—a purpose I keep forgetting whenever she’s near.

  “Thanks. A little heavy for dinner conversation, though. Yeah?” She crumbles up the tiny white napkin pieces and drops them in her food basket.

  “A bit heavy, but very commendable,” I offer as we both take the opportunity to have more drink.

  “How rude of me. I’ve been talking about myself the entire time.” She motions to me. “What about you? What’s your story, Cohen James?”

  “Oh, really, it’s fine. I love hearing about you. Me? I’m rather boring. Not much to tell,” I say, trying to buy myself some time to get my facts straight. What I can say…what I can’t.

  “Oh, come on. I just told you more about myself in the past hour than most people know.” She encourages me to share, but I don’t miss the tinge of regret in her voice, like she’s said too much.

  “Haven’t we played a version of this game? The one where I told you I own a tech company and have a weakness for indigo eyes?” I remind her. “I also love sailing. And you know I’m a runner. Which you got to see firsthand.” My mouth twitches at the corner as I fight back a smile.

  “You never mentioned you owned the company.” She smiles at me again, brushing off my comment about our little run-in while I was jogging. Seeing her eyes sweep down my body in memory causes something to shift in my chest.

  “Gorgeous and modest,” she teases me.

  “You think I’m gorgeous?”

  She merely shrugs her shoulders when I question her, and a long blonde lock of hair falls forward.

  “Isn’t that a bit of a girly description?” I ask, leaning forward to brush the hair back. The minute my fingertips come in contact with her skin, I feel a jolt of electricity, much like the night I stood between her legs in that bathroom and licked my blood from her finger. I grow hard at the memory—a memory that feels like a lifetime ago, even though it’s only been a couple weeks.

  Her widening indigo eyes reveal she feels it too. Good. I’m not alone in this.

  “How would you describe yourself then?” she asks, interrupting my naughty flashback. “Let’s not play coy, Cohen. Men like you know you’re gorgeous. The term is only a technicality.”

  “Well then, I’d say I’m ruggedly handsome. In a very masculine way, of course. And maybe even a little dark.” I take a drink of my lager. Or a lot dark.

  “I see, so you would describe yourself as a sexy pirate then?” She laughs, the sound washing over me as I spew warm lager from my mouth and into my hand before it hits the table.

  “Christ, woman. A sexy pirate? Are you trying to kill me?” I choke out laughter. She passes me the few remaining napkins to sop up the mess, and I clean up the alcohol dripping down my face and onto my shirt.

  “So, you’re a sexy pirate and a techie who moonlights as a knight in shining armor. What other secrets are you hiding, Cohen?” Her teasing remark hits too close to home. I’m hiding more than she could ever imagine. James, helping her home drunk, intending to use her, among other things. Too many secrets. It’s like a bucket of ice water has been thrown on the fire that has been raging for her since she walked in this pub. Hell, since I saw her standing at that graveside.

  Every last ember snuffs out at the chilly thought of what will happen when she finds them out. All of them.

  “I’m pretty much an open book,” I lie. “Ask away.”

  “Okay then, where are you from? How about family? Pets, a parrot maybe?” I love her wicked sense of humor. “Annoying habits? Goals in life? Deepest, darkest secret?” she rambles off.

  “Everywhere. A mum, no pets, I may or may not snore a bit after a heavy night of drinking, goals…hmmm, that’s a tough one. To take my place as head of my family’s business,” I confess without realizing what I’ve just said. “I’m not swapping secrets with you, not tonight anyway.” I finish my drink, placing the empty glass back on the table with a quiet thud.

  “It’s going to take more than a couple lagers to get me talking. Something much stronger and in a much smaller glass.” Scarlett is watching me, the cogs in her mind turning. Nothing gets past her.

  “Your family’s business? Lu Tech?” she asks.

  “No, another business. Lu Tech is all mine. The other is an…old family business, shipping industry. But I must prove myself before I can make my claim to it.” My jaw tightens as I grit my teeth and stare at the empty space above her head where the tall wooden planks rise up to meet a beamed ceiling.

  “Claim to what?” she starts, and my eyes shut as I’m forced to either lie or…well, lie. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. That was insensitive of me.”

  “No, really, it’s fine. It’s just a bit of a sore subject.” I drop my gaze back down and focus on her.

  “So computers?” She steers the conversation back to something safe, and I’m floored by how in tune we seem with each other. If I believed in reincarnation, I would almost believe she was mine before this life. Maybe she’s just one damaged soul, recognizing another and my limits.

  “Yeah, computers. I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, but I had a knack for computers. A neighbor taught me, my uh…my mum worked a lot. I found I could get lost in codes and sequences.”

  I’ve already said more than I should about who I really am, so I try to give as much truth as possible without giving too much.

  “I’m quite tech challenged myself,” she laughs as the barkeep rings the bell for last call.

  Glancing at my watch, I see we’ve been talking for hours and I lost track of time.

  She shifts nervously in her seat. “I guess I should be going, I didn’t realize it was so late.”

  �
��I’ll walk with you,” I tell her. “I just need to settle up the tab.”

  Scarlett reaches for her bag. “Here, let me,” she offers, scrambling for her wallet.

  “I’ve got this.” I step away before she can argue. When I return, she’s standing next to the booth looking like sin in a dark blue dress that hits just above her knees and heeled sandals that make her legs look a mile long.

  “I can pay my own way.” The edge in her voice has me searching her face. “I have my own money.” There it is. Pride.

  “It’s just a meal, Scarlett, and a few drinks.” I get it, more than she realizes, but she opens her mouth to protest and I cut her off.

  “Next time, you can buy.” She freezes when she catches what I’ve just said.

  “Next time,” she repeats. The corner of her mouth lifts as I gesture for her to walk out with me and shoot my driver a quick text.

  Standing outside the pub’s massive door, she points behind her as I drop my mobile back in my pocket. “I’m just down this way. My car is in the carpark by my office.”

  “Would you like a proper escort? I do moonlight as a knight,” I tease, desperate for just a few more moments with her, never knowing when it might be the last. Before she knows.

  “Well, who could say no to an offer like that?” She starts walking, and I fall into step beside her.

  “Thanks,” she offers, keeping her gaze straight ahead as we walk. “For dinner, walking me…and for what you did at the Anderson retreat.” She surprises me by bringing it up.

  “Anyone would have done the same. He is a little prick who needed to be put in his place,” I tell her, and she stops and turns toward me.

  “Not just that.” Her eyes burn in to mine. “What you did after…staying with me, taking care of me. Not everyone would have watched a stranger fall apart like that and not sprinted in the other direction, or tried to take advantage of the situation, so thank you, Cohen. Thanks for making me feel safe, that night and tonight.” We stand staring at each other, and I decide now is a good time to tell her.