by Anne Oliver
‘I’m freshly out of a disastrous fling with someone who couldn’t care less about me, actually. I seem to have a knack for choosing losers and users.’ She swayed in towards him. ‘What is it about me that screams sucker, do you think, Tristan?’
He knew he shouldn’t articulate what had just flitted through his mind, but there was something about her beleaguered expression that made it impossible to resist.
‘From where I’m standing, sucker is a word full of possibilities.’ His gaze dropped to that smooth, curvy pout of hers as it twisted into a smile and he saw her shift in her heels as she twigged exactly what he was insinuating.
Lu turned away from his gaze and took another hefty swig of her wine before placing the glass carefully back onto the bar, her fingertips catching the stem at the last second so that it spun and rocked for a moment before settling down to its former inanimate state. The spots of colour on her cheeks flared further outwards.
Was she nervous? Or excited by the idea?
He realised with uncomfortable certainty that he hoped it was the latter.
Whoa, boy. Put the brakes on that impulse.
Chatting to a woman in a bar was one thing, but taking it further wasn’t on the agenda right now.
Was it?
‘You celebrating something?’ he said, nodding towards the huddle of women at the table she’d just vacated in an attempt to take the charged atmosphere down a notch or two.
‘A friend’s birthday. We both work round the corner so this is our after-work local.’ Something troubling seemed to occur to her and she frowned and picked up her glass again, taking another large gulp of wine. After giving herself a little shake, she flashed him a wide smile.
‘How about you? What are you doing here all on your lonesome?’ She made another move towards him, drawing herself up to her full height and putting out an arm to casually lean on the bar, bringing her tantalising floral fragrance with her.
He drew in a deep lungful of her heady scent and smiled down at her. ‘I ducked in here to avoid being mauled by a woman with a hungry look in her eyes.’
She looked at him steadily. ‘She fancied a slice of you, did she?’
‘I got that impression, yes.’
‘And you didn’t feel like being her Tristan Topping tonight?’
He laughed. ‘Or any other night.’
She swallowed and stared somewhere to the left side of his head before flicking her gaze back to his. There was a flash of something he couldn’t quite pin down in those baby-blues.
She was one contrary lady. One minute cool and assertive, buying him a drink, the next uncertain and wary.
He’d not come across someone like Lu for a very long time. Since splitting with Marcy he’d only seemed to meet women who had formed hard, flawless shells around themselves, who gave him a perfectly polished response every time—who thought they were giving him what he wanted, when actually he was repelled by their phoniness.
But this woman had something about her that he couldn’t bear to step away from just yet.
She was too damn interesting.
* * *
Pull yourself together, you lunatic.
Lula turned away from the disconcertingly gorgeous man in front of her and glanced over to where her party sat laughing at something Emily had said. Her friend was standing and waving her arms around in an approximation of sexual fervour in her typical crowd-pleasing style.
Em would know exactly what to say to a guy like this, and she certainly wouldn’t have made a total fool of herself by coughing all over him.
He’d taken her by surprise, rocking up to the bar before she could formulate a plan about how best to approach him, and she’d been totally unprepared for the immediate visceral effect he’d had on her.
He wasn’t the type of man she’d usually go for—he was scarily charismatic and his powerful virility and snappy smartness gave her the jitters. He was just so chiselled and smooth-looking with his Roman nose and intelligent, rich brown eyes that sparked with amusement behind a pair of those trendy rectangular-framed ‘invisible’ glasses.
He was totally business.
She had a mad urge to mess with his neatly swept back hair, to ruffle him up a bit and see the raw side of the man concealed beneath the sharply tailored suit.
Blood throbbed through her veins as she entertained the impulse.
She felt slightly bad about not correcting him when he’d asked if her name was short for Louise, but it had occurred to her that she could pretend to be someone else entirely tonight and it wouldn’t matter a jot. She’d never see him again, so why not fully step into the persona she wanted to project? A fake name was a great way to do that, and it wasn’t as if anyone was going to get hurt.
Looking back at him, she realised he was frowning down at her as if trying to figure out what the heck was going through her head. He must think she was a total simpleton, first rambling on about her failed relationships, then suggesting he wasn’t a real man and now staring around like a vacant airhead.
Gah.
After taking one more bolstering swig of wine, she turned to regain eye contact and gave him her most seductive smile.
‘So what made you pick this particular pub for a refuge from the man-eater?’ she asked.
He shrugged and twisted his beer bottle between his fingers. ‘I’m staying in the hotel across the road and this looked like a suitably dark and shady place to hide.’
‘So you don’t live in London?’ That was good. It meant they were unlikely to ever bump into each other again.
Unless they wanted to?
That’s not on the agenda tonight, Lula, get a grip.
Tristan shook his head and frowned. ‘I’m based in Edinburgh.’
‘I’ve never been there. I hear it’s a really cool place.’
‘It is.’
‘So what brings you this far south?’ she asked.
‘Business. I had a meeting in Canary Wharf today and I have something to do for my father tomorrow.’ His voice had become rougher, as if he was uncomfortable—or maybe bored—talking about it.
Lula nodded and smiled, attempting to hide her anxiety. Her radio training told her she needed to latch onto a more interesting topic of conversation or she was going to lose him.
‘So is it true that men who wear glasses make better lovers?’ She cringed inside, amazed at the guff that came out of her mouth in times of stress.
He let out a startled guffaw. ‘That’s not one I’ve heard before, but since I fit firmly into that category I’m going to say yes.’
She smiled, happy not to have been slapped down and amazed to feel the atmosphere begin to zing between them again.
May as well go with it.
‘I think it has something to do with losing one of your senses when you take your glasses off—your eyesight, obviously, in this instance—which makes you work harder with your sense of touch.’
He dipped his head in mirth. ‘That sounds like a load of gobbledegook to me, but I’m willing to go with it if it makes you believe I’ll be better in bed than my non-bespectacled rivals.’
‘Oh, I have no doubt you are,’ Lu said, the heat in her cheeks intensifying as she struggled to maintain flirty eye contact.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Emily making her way over to where they stood at the bar and primed herself for whatever might happen next.
Everything about her fri
end shouted Look at me!, from her abundance of blonde-tipped, chocolate-coloured curls and large golden eyes to her curvy statuesque figure.
She struck people.
And she made things happen—it was what made her such a successful TV presenter. Normally Lula loved that about her, but right now she needed to be allowed to handle this situation with Tristan without Em’s dominating personality muscling in.
‘So, Lu, I guess you’re not coming to the next pub with us then?’ Emily said as she approached, widening her eyes and unsubtly twitching her head towards Tristan.
‘Er, no. I don’t think so,’ Lula said, hoping her face didn’t look as flushed as it felt.
Emily nodded, narrowing her eyes at Tristan. ‘Hold this for me, will you?’ she said, thrusting her drink at him.
He took it from her and watched in apparent amusement as she rummaged in her bag for something.
‘Do me a favour, take a sip of that and tell me if you think it’s gin or vodka they’ve put in there. I think it’s gin, but the barman swears it’s vodka,’ Emily said, her head still in her bag.
Tristan took a small sip. ‘Definitely not gin,’ he said.
Em pulled her phone out of her bag and took a quick snap of Tristan with the camera on it. Before he had chance to ask her what she was doing, she wrapped a tissue around her hand and took her glass from him.
‘Thanks. Right, well, you look after my friend here, because if you attempt anything she doesn’t like I have your picture, fingerprints and DNA and I will not hesitate to hand them over to the police. Consider yourself warned.’
‘Jeez, Emily, leave the poor guy alone,’ Lula said, rolling her eyes at her friend, hoping to God Tristan would see the funny side. When she turned to give him an apologetic smile she was relieved to find he was smiling, albeit in a rather bemused way.
‘Okay, I’m backing away now,’ Emily sang out. ‘I’ll leave you in Lu’s capable hands,’ she said, giving Tristan a salacious wink.
Lula’s insides shrivelled in mortification.
Leaning in, Emily gave her a tight hug, whispering, ‘You go, girl. Show this guy who’s boss,’ into Lu’s ear before flashing them both a wicked grin and hurrying off.
Copyright © 2014 by Christy McKellen
ISBN-13: 9781460344477
Behind Closed Doors…
Copyright © 2006 by Anne Oliver
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
“You’re fired.”
Not what radio DJ Tallulah Lazenby expects to hear from the sex god she was in bed with just hours earlier! Who turns out to be her new boss. Total. Nightmare.
Executive Tristan Bamfield’s reasons for being in London are strictly professional…until he manages to sleep with the woman he was supposed to be firing! And when Tristan has to take charge and get Lula back on air, what was supposed to be one night becomes weeks of tantalizing torture! Because back in the studio those red-hot memories are making Lula a major distraction…and “business as usual” is much easier said than done…
SNEAK PEEK EXCERPT FROM
Fired by Her Fling
“Tristan, we’re in a broom cupboard.”
“Yeah, I know, but no one will think to look for us in here.”
Her heart thumped hard against her rib cage and her whole body tingled with awareness at his close proximity.
The next second his hands had found her face and slid along her jaw, drawing her toward him, and then his mouth was on hers, hot and firm.
He dropped kisses along her jawline, sending great twists of erotic sensation through her whole body.
“Don’t think,” he murmured, the vibration of his words tickling and teasing the hypersensitive skin of her throat as he moved lower. “Just do.”
He slammed against her, forcing her back against the wall, sending what sounded like brooms crashing to the floor.
This wasn’t playful anymore. It was hot and heavy and serious.
Inevitable.
It was what she wanted. What she needed.
In a shocking moment of clarity, she realized that this had always been going to happen.
She’d been kidding herself the whole time.
Dear Reader,
Welcome to the wonderful world of radio. I had a lot of fun writing about my introverted DJ and her battle to keep her job—and her self-control—after she locks horns, lips and more with a hot-as-sin guy who unfortunately turns out to be her new boss!
As an introvert myself, I’m fascinated by the differences between how I function compared with how an extrovert might get through her day. For a long time I thought my natural instinct to hang back in a new situation and my need to take regular breaks at social occasions was a character flaw, but after researching the subject of introversion, I was mightily relieved to find that I wasn’t alone in my quirks.
My heroine, Lula, has been struggling with her quirks for many years, worrying the whole time that her sometimes debilitating shyness outside of work has made her unlovable. It takes a hero as compassionate and patient as Tristan to help her recognize her strengths and make her realize that her idiosyncrasies are actually what make her so special.
I hope you enjoy reading their story as much as I loved writing it.
All the best,
Christy x
Fired by
Her Fling
Christy McKellen
ABOUT CHRISTY McKELLEN
BK (Before Kids), Christy McKellen worked as a video and radio producer in London and Nottingham. After a decade of dealing with nappies, tantrums and endless questions from toddlers, she’s come out the other side and moved into the wonderful world of literature. She now spends her time writing flirty, sexy romance with a kick (her dream job!).
Christy loves to hear from readers. You can contact her at [email protected]; through her website, www.christymckellen.com; via Facebook, www.facebook.com/christymckellenauthor; or on Twitter, www.twitter.com/christymckellen.
Other Harlequin® KISS™ titles by Christy McKellen:
Lessons in Rule-Breaking
Holiday with a Stranger
This and other titles by Christy McKellen are available in ebook format from www.Harlequin.com.
Big thanks go to my friend Rhiannon,
for that lightbulb moment in the pub.
Also to my friend Sophie, for undergoing the tough
job of researching London cocktail bars with me.
And of course to Tom, for helping me plot and plan
in the Spanish sunshine over coffee and cake.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT
ONE
Tallulah Lazenby drained the last drop of her large glass of Sauvignon Blanc and clung onto the comforting buzz of the alcohol, until the feeling dissipated and her nerves returned.
She really shouldn’t be drinking the night before her grievance meeting with the owner of the radio station where she worked as a DJ—a job that had, until recently, made her rise with excitement every morning—but she needed something to dull the growing panic that tomorrow could be her last day of work there.
‘Lula, snap out of it. It’s going to be okay,’ her friend Emily muttered into her ear, clicking her fingers in front of her face and dragging her out of her agitated funk and into the here and now of the dimly lit Covent Garden pub, where they were celebrating a friend’s birthday.
Lula gave her a tight-lipped smile. ‘Easy for you to say; you didn’t make the catastrophic mistake of sleeping with your Station Manager and scuppering your chances at career advancement when you refused to be his regular sex-puppet.’
Emily tried to keep a straight face, but failed spectacularly. ‘I have to say, Lu, it wasn’t one of your best moves.’
She shot her friend a no kidding grimace.
‘Lord knows what possessed you to sleep with him,’ Emily added.
Lula nodded solemnly into her empty glass.
Jeremy—or Jez as he preferred to be called—was an overconfident, self-absorbed philanderer and the exact opposite of what she was looking for in a long-term partner.
‘It was after a very long, very dry patch and he caught me at a moment of weakness,’ she muttered, her face hot with the ignominy of how it had cast a dark shadow over their working relationship when she’d told him in no uncertain terms that there wasn’t going to be a repeat performance.