Harlequin KISS November 2014 Box Set: Behind Closed Doors...Fired by Her FlingWho's Calling the Shots?Nine Month Countdown

by Anne Oliver

He could tell from the colour on her cheeks that it had taken some courage to come and ask him. Even though he made sure to be friendly to the staff, Claire in particular still treated him with detached reverence.

  He thought about it for all of two seconds. ‘Sure, I’d love to.’ He hadn’t done any socialising with the staff since he’d started working here and he was gratified that they’d want to include him.

  Perhaps Lula would be there too tonight and he’d get an opportunity to spend some time with her outside of work. Maybe he’d get her to loosen up around him in a more relaxed environment? To show some more of that spirit that bubbled underneath the surface of her control.

  Memories of how they’d loosened up the last time they’d been out together flashed through his head and a sizzling heat swept through his body.

  The sight of Claire’s delighted smile dragged him back to the present.

  ‘That’s great! We’re meeting at eight at The Zetter Townhouse cocktail bar on Clerkenwell Road. See you there later,’ she said.

  He raised a capitulating hand, still a little distracted by his erotic recollections. ‘Sure. See you there.’

  * * *

  Lula stood in a cobbled square in front of a row of golden-bricked townhouses with white stucco frontages and checked the text from Claire again to make sure she’d got the right place.

  To the right of her was the blue door that Claire described and next to it a discreet plaque with the name The Zetter engraved on it.

  Yup, this was it.

  Pushing the door open, she took a deep breath, readying herself to be sociable.

  It was good for her to be here tonight. She hadn’t been out since the meal with Tristan—apart from a slobby night over at Emily’s place watching a film and drinking a questionable new cocktail her friend had concocted.

  She’d somehow managed not to mention Tristan’s ongoing existence in her life to her friend, sure she’d be in for a thorough interrogation about him, which she wasn’t prepared to handle at the moment.

  Quite honestly she wasn’t even sure she’d have the energy to stay out for long tonight. Getting into the routine of regular early morning rising from Monday to Friday, that the Breakfast Show required, was taking longer than she’d anticipated and having to go in each day and act all cool and indifferent around Tristan wasn’t doing much for the state of her nerves either.

  The guy seriously knew how to rock her boat.

  She seemed to spend most of her day in a state of sexual agitation and every time he came within ten feet of her, which was surprisingly often—in fact she suspected he was doing it deliberately to rattle her—she turned into a gibbering wreck.

  But she was determined to put him out of her mind and have fun tonight. She deserved to raise a glass with her colleagues to her promotion as Breakfast Presenter—something she hadn’t managed to find the time to do before now.

  It was comfortably dim inside, the dark red walls and long bookshelves groaning with leather-bound books adding an air of stately elegance to an eclectic mash-up of vintage furniture. It felt a bit like an eccentric, rich old uncle’s time capsule house.

  There was already a large gathering of people lounging on purple velvet sofas, boxing in a long, low glass display case which was being used as a table. It had a random collection of old looking objects inside it: yellowing handwritten letters, brass compasses and a stuffed rabbit wearing a top hat.

  The place was kooky as all heck.

  Claire, as birthday girl, sat at the head of the table and Lula gave her a wave before going over to the bar to grab herself an orange and soda. If she even had a sniff of a cocktail tonight she’d be done for.

  Lula located a bit of space on one of the sofas and slid into it. When she looked up from finding a place for her drink amongst the litter of cocktail glasses she was shocked to see Tristan sitting opposite her, giving her one of his killer smiles.

  Her insides turned to goo.

  What the heck was he doing here? Had Claire really invited their boss to her birthday do? And had he accepted knowing she’d probably be there? Not that he shouldn’t be allowed to socialise with the staff, but these were her friends.

  She experienced a rush of frustration with him for turning up and hijacking her night with his befuddling presence.

  How was she meant to relax tonight and make intelligent conversation with Tristan sitting there looking like his sex god self in her peripheral vision?

  She gave him a quick nod of acknowledgment and turned to talk to the man sitting next to her, doing her best to ignore him.

  * * *

  Tristan’s pulse had given an electrified stutter when Lula appeared and slid onto the sofa opposite him, but he’d been frustrated when she’d only given him a curt nod and turned away.

  Well, he wasn’t going to let her get away with ignoring him all night here too.

  After chatting for a while with a couple of the radio engineers from the station about who was the best live band at the moment, he disengaged himself from the conversation and covertly watched Lula over his tumbler as he sipped his Whiskey Sour. The guy sitting next to her seemed to be regaling her with a monologue that had her captivated and she didn’t once glance his way, which narked him. He didn’t believe she felt nothing for him any more. It wasn’t possible, not after the intense connection they’d shared.

  She spent a lot of time listening to people, he realised, watching as she nodded and encouraged the guy to elucidate on his point. He suspected that’s what made her so good at her job.

  He spent a moment sizing the guy up. He didn’t recognise him from the station so by deduction he must be a friend of Claire’s. Blood rushed to his head as he watched him put a hand on Lula’s knee. The guy clearly thought a lot of himself, judging by the way he kept smoothing a hand over his ridiculous on-trend hairstyle and lounging across the sofa as if he owned the place.

  Tristan was unnerved by how protective he felt towards Lula and how frustrated he was that she was the only person he wanted to talk to tonight and she was sitting on the other side of table being openly pawed by some cocky youth who was totally beneath her.

  As he watched with narrowed eyes she stifled a yawn behind her hand and glanced round, catching his eye.

  The connection between them seemed to sizzle the air as they stared at each other. She didn’t need to say anything for him to know she needed him to rescue her.

  Standing up, he navigated his way out of the group and round to the back of the sofa where she was sitting.

  Leaning down between her and the youth, he gave her a friendly smile.

  ‘Hey, Lula, how are you doing?’

  Her pupils seemed huge in the muted light of the bar. ‘Not bad, but my new boss is a bit of a slave-driver so I’m pretty wiped out.’ She shot him a teasing smile, which he returned, pleased she was joking around with him again. ‘I was thinking about heading off soon actually,’ she continued, her gaze sliding away from his. ‘Need to get an early night in.’

  ‘Yeah? Me too. I’ll walk out with you,’ he said, standing up and waiting pointedly for her to do the same.

  He missed the flirty banter they’d had between them and this was an ideal opportunity to get her on her own and talk freely without the worry of being interrupted or overheard.

  Her look of surprise swiftly turned to apprehension. ‘You don’t need to do that, Tristan—’

  ‘I know that, but I’m pretty done in too. I’ll walk you to the tube. I’m in an apartment in St Pancras now so it’s on my way.’

  ‘You’re not in the hotel any more?’ From the pink hue of her cheeks she was evidently thinking about the night she’d spent there with him—just as he was now. Blood roared through his veins and he shifted behind her, attempting to disguise the incongruous effect the memories were having on him.
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  ‘I thought if I was going to be here for a couple more weeks I’d be better off renting a short lease apartment. A friend of mine owns a place in the clock tower of St Pancras station.’

  ‘Really?’ She widened her eyes, her interest clearly piqued.

  ‘Yeah, it’s a great place. Good location.’

  ‘It sure is.’

  There was an awkward silence.

  ‘Okay. Let’s go,’ he said, not wanting to give her an opportunity to back out.

  She studied him for a few more beats.

  From the way her eyelids flickered, he felt sure she was having another of those internal arguments in her head.

  ‘Okay, that would be great,’ she said finally.

  After saying their goodbyes to a rather inebriated Claire, who was now happily being charmed by another of the foppish youths in the party, they exited the bar into the cool night air of the cobbled square.

  ‘I should have made it clear we weren’t leaving together,’ Lula muttered, frowning hard at the door they’d just closed behind them.

  ‘Want me to go back and make an announcement to the bar about how we’re not going to sleep together tonight?’ Tristan teased. He was gratified to see her mouth twitch into a begrudging smile.

  ‘No!’ She slapped him gently on the arm, her touch leaving an echo of sensation on his skin. ‘That would really set tongues wagging. Protesting too much, and all that.’

  He grinned, resisting the urge to bend down and kiss the pseudo scowl off her face and gestured for her to start walking.

  After a couple of steps she stumbled on the cobblestones and he instinctively took her arm, feeling her tense beneath his grip, but she didn’t pull away.

  Her body felt warm and solid next to his and her hip bumped gently against his thigh as they walked, only increasing his desire to push her into a dark alleyway and make a mockery of his last statement.

  They strolled in edgy silence as they navigated their way through the narrow cobbled back streets of Farringdon towards the tube station.

  ‘Are you really living in the clock tower at St Pancras?’ Lula finally asked.

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘That’s just so...’ She searched around for the word she was after, her cheeks glowing pink with the effort to locate it.

  ‘Pretentious?’ he supplied, grinning at her growing frustration. ‘Ridiculous? Showy?’

  ‘It’s just so goddamn cool. How do you manage to make cool seem so effortless?’

  He snorted. ‘I didn’t realise I did, but thanks for the compliment.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘You want to see it?’ he asked, fully expecting her to shoot him down, but unable to stop himself from pushing at her—craving the satisfaction of watching her break and admit she wanted more than detached politeness between them too.

  She glanced his way, her eyes wide with excitement. ‘I’d love to see it—if I’m not imposing on your evening too much—just a quick glance—I’ll run in and out—I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like in there,’ she said, her voice breathy at the end of the run-on sentence.

  Her verbiage amused him. It proved to him that he still had the desired effect on her—although she was clearly determined to establish she wasn’t after anything more than a look-see of where he was living tonight.

  No funny business, her expression said.

  He smiled. ‘No problem. I’m not planning on going out again this evening.’ He wasn’t making any other promises though.

  ‘Okay then. Thanks.’

  They jumped on the tube and travelled one stop to St Pancras, joining the fast moving crowds milling through the turnstiles and out onto to the main road.

  Lula looked up at the majestic clock tower of the red-bricked gothic revival building and whistled. ‘Nice one, Tristan, that’s quite a find.’

  ‘It helps to have friends with high places,’ he quipped.

  ‘Very droll,’ she said, her eyes flashing with amusement.

  He let them in through the glass-fronted entrance and they walked up to his apartment. He tried not to watch her tidy behind as she climbed in front of him on her customary heels, her hips swinging in a mesmerising motion right in his field of vision.

  She had such a neat figure. So perfectly formed.

  He smiled at her gasp of astonishment as he opened the front door to reveal the apartment in all its glory. It really was magnificent, with its ten-meter-high ceilings, exposed brickwork and one whole wall dedicated to an enormous bookcase, filled with the brightly coloured spines of hundreds of books. She moved around the place, running her hands over the sleek modern furniture, the exposed beams, the wrought iron spiral staircase that led up to the mezzanine where the master bedroom was located.

  When she turned back to him her eyes were bright with wonder.

  ‘Why on earth doesn’t your friend still live here? God, if I owned this place I’d never want to set foot outside, let alone allow someone else to rent it.’

  ‘His wife wanted somewhere bigger after they got married. She made him give this place up.’ He rolled his eyes skyward.

  She smiled down at the floor. ‘Is that a hint of disdain I detect?’

  He shrugged. ‘He had a good thing going here. Now he’s living like a zombie in the burbs and kowtowing to a wife who barely allows him out in the evenings.’

  ‘Hmm, definitely disdain.’ She ran her fingers over the back of the sofa, her gaze focussed on the undulating motion.

  He slumped down onto the sofa opposite and watched her walk around the rest of the apartment, moving into the small kitchen diner, then back out to the living area again.

  She sat down on the sofa opposite and looked at him, her brows drawn up into a frown. ‘You know, maybe you’re different to your dad? Maybe you’ll find you like the idea of getting married once you’ve found the right person.’ There was a lilt of hope in her voice as if she couldn’t bring herself to believe that he was fine as he was. What was it with the women he met? Why did they always seem to think he needed fixing?

  He gave her a tolerant smile. ‘Maybe, but I doubt it. I’ve just come out of a relationship with a woman who I thought was a perfect match for me, but I never felt the urge to marry her.’

  Her face seemed pale under the bright overhead light and her gaze slid away from his. ‘Why did you split up with your girlfriend?’

  Even though he didn’t want to talk to Lula about the mess his life had become, he didn’t want to lie to her either. She’d asked him a direct question so he should give her a direct answer. ‘She left me for my brother.’

  Her mouth dropped open in surprise. ‘No! That’s so tacky!’

  He’d expected pity, so was heartened by her outrage. He smiled, attempting to keep things light, even though his whole body was hot with discomfort. ‘Yeah, tacky and humiliating.’

  ‘I can’t believe your own brother would do that to you.’

  ‘Well, that’s Jon.’ He huffed out a laugh. ‘It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t carried the bastard for so many years.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He frowned, realising he wasn’t going to get away with just giving her vague details; she was more savvy than that. ‘After our mum died, my father went to pieces so it was up to me to keep our lives on the rails. I made sure Jon had what he needed for school and that he turned up to classes.’

  Lula was sitting forwards now, a look of keen interest on her face.

  He leaned back against the hard back of the sofa and rubbed a hand through his hair, strangely relieved at the prospect of getting all this off his chest. ‘And then, when my dad became more interested in chasing women than running our family business I stepped in to keep it going after I finished University. I really wanted to set up my ow
n thing, I had grand plans, but I couldn’t see the business that had been in my family for fifty years sold off or go to ruin. My brother said he’d help me with the running of it, but he hardly ever turns up for work. He has no qualms about taking his wage and dividends though. And then stealing my girlfriend out from under my nose.’

  She was looking at him with such incredulous indignation he almost reached forward to touch her in gratitude.

  The air between them throbbed with tension as they stared at each other in the pause.

  She broke eye contact first and smoothed her skirt down over her legs.

  He bristled as he realised he must have made her uncomfortable by treating her like a sounding board.

  ‘Hey, I need to ask you something,’ he said, standing up and walking over to the bookcase to straighten one of the spines, giving her a moment of grace. He’d got too personal and she was evidently struggling with how to respond to his embarrassing admission.

  ‘Apparently there’s a Radio Industry networking event next Thursday, which Jez was meant to be attending. It’s a good opportunity to shout about Flash and maybe sniff out some more sponsorship. Assuming I haven’t found anyone to take over managing the station by then, I’d appreciate it if you’d come along with me. I could do with an expert on hand to deal with the specific radio industry questions.’

  When he glanced back she was frowning. Was it because she didn’t want to have to spend another evening in his company? Had he blown his cool image by telling her all his dirty secrets?

  The thought irked him, which is why his next question came out sounding so accusatory. ‘Surely you anticipated there’d be some out of hours demands on your time?’

  She nodded, her eyes big with distress. ‘Yes, of course.’

  From the tone of her voice you’d have thought he’d asked her to perform an operatic duet in top F with him. Or maybe she just felt uncomfortable about being seen on his arm.

  ‘Look, we don’t have to go for long and I’ll make sure I mention to everyone we speak to that you’re not sleeping with the boss.’ He gave her a jokey raised-eyebrow-and-smile combo.