Lose Your Shirt (The Londonaire Brother Series Book 2)

by Amanda Aksel

“With who?” I blurt. “I mean . . . never mind. Sorry.” I shake my head. Why do I care who Liz is having lunch with. And after yesterday, I don’t think I should be spending any extra time with her. Every encounter is too close. Especially now, after Dad’s little visit. “Thank you, Poppy. You may go.” I return my attention to the marketing proposal.

  Liz glances at her wristwatch. “You know, I should get going.”

  I spring forward in my chair. “Already? We still have fifteen minutes.”

  “Yeah, you’ve got a busy day. And I’m good on this.” She grabs the proposal from my desk and then her bag, swinging it over her shoulder.

  “Okay . . . I’ll see you in the morning then.”

  She nods and walks out the door. That was weird. She seemed a little upset about something, but she was fine before he came in here. I bet it was the lunch thing. If I’d said yes, he’d think I was eating more than just lunch with her. A client—an attractive female client.

  The truth is, of course, I would love to have lunch with her. But I’ll settle for lunch with my lad, Sean. I stop by his office but he’s already gone, and I have less than an hour before my next appointment. So I head around the corner to a little café that makes the best tomato soup, which sounds perfect on a cold day like today.

  I sit at the café and check my email on my phone while I wait for my order. Just as they slide the steaming bowl in front of me, I look up.

  Liz is facing me at the next table, her eyes locked on mine as she grips the menu tightly in her hands. Clearly, she saw me first.

  I swallow hard and wave. “Hi.”

  Her eyes narrow. “I thought you didn’t have time for lunch.”

  Now I know the universe is toying with me. But I kind of like that she just keeps showing up when I least expect it. “And I thought you had lunch plans.”

  “They fell through. And this was the closest place with decent reviews on Yelp.”

  “It is a great place. Why don’t you join me?” I wave her over.

  After a small hesitation, she shrugs. “Might as well.” She gathers her things and moves from her table to mine.

  When she’s settled across from me, I set down my spoon and exhale a long breath.

  “No, please, eat your soup,” she says as she opens the plastic-covered menu.

  “That’s okay. I can wait.”

  “I appreciate the whole upstanding English gentleman thing, but your soup is going to get cold if you don’t eat it soon.”

  The familiar phrase throws me for a second. I’m not sure what to make of it. But for some reason, it puts me at ease. Not to mention, I am very hungry. So I spoon a little in my mouth. Mmm, just like I remember. The waiter returns and she looks up at him and orders, “House salad with a bowl of tomato soup,” then hands him her menu.

  I snicker.

  “What?”

  “You say it funny. It’s pronounced to-mah-toe.”

  She shrugs, shaking her head. “I say to-may-toe and you say to-mah-toe.”

  I swallow my hot, delicious soup. “Right. Let’s call the whole thing off.”

  Liz giggles. “Exactly.” She rests her chin on her fist. “So, is it normal for the CEO to just drop by your office to see how things are going?”

  No, it isn’t. “Sure, he’s my dad.”

  “I remember,” she says, and I give her a strange look. “From the car.” Right, the night we made out and almost made it home. She blushes, then lays the napkin across her lap. “You two must have a great relationship. There is no way I could work with anyone in my family.”

  “What’s the matter? You don’t want to work in astrology?” I joke and she cracks a smile that quickly twists to a grimace.

  “No.”

  “What’s your family like?” I ask, then spoon more soup into my mouth.

  Liz shakes her head. “Different. Very different. I’m not like any of them. Except for maybe my grandfather.”

  Interesting, she feels like the odd one out in her family too. “What’s he like?”

  “He was diligent and he instilled in me a sense of determination. Not much of a coddler. He told really bad jokes, even up until the day he died,” she says, and I can tell by the way her expression changes that it’s a sore subject. “Last year.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. He lived a good life.” And right on cue, her soup and salad arrive, sparking a change in the subject. “This to-may-toe soup smells so good!”

  “Yes, but it tastes like to-mah-toes.”

  She chuckles, then takes a bite. “Mmm, pretty good. But it needs more pepper.”

  As the English gentleman that I am, I reach for the pepper but she does too. Our fingers collide. It’s a totally innocent thing, but my body reacts as if it’s more, shooting a tingling rush over my skin and a quiver down my spine. Our eyes meet, and I know she’s feeling it too.

  Liz takes her hand back. “Kent, why don’t we ever run into each other on purpose?”

  “We do. Every day that you come to the office.”

  She shoots me a wry look. “You know what I mean. I know that I’m your client, but this is getting ridiculous. We’re two consenting adults.” We’re consenting adults until someone claims sexual harassment. “We met before we knew we were working together and there’s obviously something between us. I’ve got less than a week left here. Can’t we break the rules and get in a little trouble?” She says it playfully but she doesn’t realize that breaking the rules would mean a lot of trouble for me.

  This time, I purposefully place my hand on hers. “Liz, it’s complicated. Just trust me when I say it’s not a good idea for us to get involved, no matter how much we both want it.”

  She stares into my eyes for a second before she pulls her hand away and doesn’t say another word about it. After that, my soup isn’t the only thing that’s cold.

  NINE

  Liz

  It’s time for me to throw in the towel with Kent. And that’s difficult for me because it’s not my nature. When I decide that I want something, I don’t stop until I get it. With Kent, I can’t help but think that it’s not as simple as he makes it sound, and not just because he used the phrase “it’s complicated.” There has to be something else at play. But before I let my mind run wild with possibilities, I shake it off. Kent and I shared some kisses, stolen glances, and sexually tense moments, but there’s no point in getting worked up over nothing. Except, why does it feel like it’s something?

  The next morning, I show up at Bonnaire Capital as usual, prepared to play it cool. Poppy’s in her usual spot with that same cheerful look on her face. I wonder what she’s got going on in her life that causes her to look so happy.

  “Hi, Poppy,” I say, approaching her desk.

  “Good morning, Ms. McKenna. How was your evening?”

  I offer a tight-lipped smile. “It was fine.”

  Poppy frowns. “Fine. Look at you. You’re young, stunning, and successful. Your evenings should be better than fine.”

  Agreed. “Well, that’s life.” I look over my shoulder in case Kent’s walked up in the last ten seconds, thinking that he would have made my evening better than fine.

  “No, my dear, that’s choice. Here.” Poppy hunches down, opening her desk drawer. “This should make tonight much better.” She hands me a thick novel with a cover similar to the last book. Same author too.

  I read the title I Just Want Us.

  Poppy’s lighthearted glow returns to her face. “Yes, that’s the sequel to the one you read the other day.”

  My eyes shoot open and I flip the book over. “There’s a sequel!” I practically squeal, then clear my throat. “I mean, that’s cool . . . I can borrow this?”

  “Of course. Enjoy.” She waves her hand.

  I begin reading the back cover. “Thanks.”

  “Oh, Princess,” Poppy calls and I look up. She nods behind me. “There’s the billionaire now.”

  I raise my brow before turning around. Kent app
roaches, looking ridiculously handsome in his dove-gray suit. My pulse picks up as he draws closer and I take in a deep breath. As I exhale, a cheesy grin spreads across my face, and I feel like I’m back in high school watching the boy I like walking down the hall toward me. Dammit! Why do I like this guy so much?

  His expression changes to match mine but only for a brief moment until he flattens his lips to hide it. “Hey,” he says gently.

  “Hey.”

  A giggling Poppy resounds behind me, and Kent and I shoot her a look. Her hand shields her grin and when she removes it, her expression is so blank that I almost wonder if I made up the sound of laughter in my head.

  “Anyway,” Kent begins and I turn back to him. “I’m glad you’re here. There’s someone I want you to meet.” He nods for me to follow him. I tuck Poppy’s novel in my bag as we walk down the hall to the conference room.

  A young woman who looks like she’s fresh out of college sits patiently at the table. The moment we walk inside, she hops to her feet and extends her hand. The girl is reminiscent of a young Jacqueline with her power suit and tight bun.

  “Liz, this is Margot,” Kent says with a proud look on his face.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Liz,” Margot says, pumping my hand with eager enthusiasm.

  “You too.” I stare at Margot for a moment hoping she’ll share more than just her name.

  She flashes a bright smile. “Kent has told me all about you.”

  “Oh, great.” I’m completely lost about what to say next. Or why Margot is here.

  Kent takes a seat and motions for us to follow. I do, cautiously.

  “Margot is one of our associates. She’ll be taking over while you’re here in London.”

  My gaze ping-pongs from Kent to Margot, then back again. “I don’t understand. I’m being passed off again?”

  He shakes his head and taps his pen against the table. “I wouldn’t say you’re being passed off, but all things considered, this is the best thing. For all of us.” Then he has the courage to look me in the face. “Margot is a great fit for you.”

  I stare back at him. How can he do this? So much for remaining professional. I grit my teeth and look at Margot once again. I’m sure she’s nice and competent, but this is not for the best. I turn to Kent with my tongue literally pressed between my teeth in my mouth. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

  “Sure,” he says, then excuses us from the table.

  Once we’re outside the conference room, but still in Margot’s earshot, I squint my eyes in thought trying to turn “What the fuck is going on here ” into a tactful statement. “I’m confused. Why exactly am I being reassigned?” I hope that my lowered voice will lower the cortisol pulsing through my body.

  “Look, I’m sorry to spring this on you.” Kent folds his arms, maintaining a much more hushed tone. “But I want you to get the most out of the time that you’re here. And I think Margot is the best person for the job.”

  I fold my arms over my chest. “The best? A girl fresh out of college is the best person for the job? Are you fucking kidding me right now?” So much for tact and muted tones.

  Kent looks past me and around the hallway with a twitchy smile. “Come in here,” he whispers and pulls me into an empty office next to the conference room and shuts the door.

  “Liz, try to be reasonable. You know that we can’t work together.”

  “Bullshit! What do you think we’ve been doing for the last three days?” Shaking my head, I run my hands down my face, then stomp up to him. “This isn’t just about us. This is about my business. I chose Bonnaire because I wanted the best. Margot is not the best and you know it. I only have a handful of days left; can’t you just figure out a way to deal with it?”

  I don’t know if I’m more pissed off about him passing me off or about that fact that he’s being so strict with the rules. Then, I realize that my body is inches from his, and I’m already starting to forget why I yelled at him in the first place. My gaze falls to his mouth. I’m close enough to smell the mint on his tongue.

  “Liz, I’m sorry but I can’t. I can’t work with you.” He looks into my eyes. And they’re saying something totally different from his words.

  “Why not?” In the moment, it becomes clear that we’ve done an amazing job over the last few days of keeping our hands off of each other. He’s right. I don’t know how much longer I can restrain myself.

  “Because ever since that night, I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop wanting you.”

  “I can’t stop wanting you either,” I whisper, just as he leans in and our lips meet. The ache I’ve been feeling for him for days finally leaves my body. Kent wraps me in his arms and pins me against the closed office door. With his body pressed against mine, I feel how much he wants me. Tangling my fingers in his hair, I pull him in tighter, and he slips his hands underneath my sweater, caressing my skin. I moan into his mouth as his tongue toys with mine. It’s even better than I remember. And so satisfying.

  He pulls back, catching his breath. “Wait, wait. We can’t do this.”

  I open my eyes. My red lipstick is smeared on the edge of his mouth. “What?” I say, catching my breath. “I don’t—”

  “I’m sorry.” Kent swipes his finger over his bottom lip. “I have to go.” Pushing past me, he tugs the door handle and rushes out.

  TEN

  Kent

  Shit. That’s why I passed her off to Margot. I knew that I couldn’t spend any more time alone with her without getting myself into serious trouble. I was this close to ripping her shirt off. But I’m the one who could lose my shirt over this woman if it goes any further. The fact that I was able to breakaway like I just did is a freaking miracle. Or a fucking tragedy. Dammit! Why is this happening? Why now?

  I stick my head inside the conference room, trying to hide the raging erection I’m sporting thanks to Liz. After I tell Margot that I’ll talk to her later, Poppy hurries over to me, a look of concern covering her face like she knows what a disaster this morning has been. “Is everything all right, Mr. Bonnaire?”

  “Yes, everything’s fine.” I straighten my jacket and my tie, not stopping as I hurry back to my office.

  “It sounded like you and Ms. McKenna were having a little row.”

  I reach my office and whirl on her. “Don’t worry, Poppy. It was nothing.”

  She smirks. “Are you sure, because you have a little something right there.” Poppy reaches up and brushes her thumb against the side of my mouth as if she’s my mum and I’ve got chocolate on my face. “There. That’s better.”

  I clear my throat and dust my chin and lip. “Thanks. You can go back to your desk now.”

  She shrugs with a knowing smirk but keeps her comments to herself as she turns the other way. Bloody hell, she knows. A cold sweat moves over my body. I need to get out of here.

  I don’t even bother to grab my briefcase before bolting down the hall. Letting out a frustrated groan, I turn the corner and push Sean’s office door open. He’s got his feet resting on the desk with his phone pressed against his ear. When he sees me, his feet drop to the floor and he sits up straight.

  “I’ll call you back,” Sean says to whomever is on the line, then stands up, slipping his phone into his pocket. “You okay, man?”

  “C’mon, we’re going to the club.”

  “Cool.” He grabs his keys off his desk and follows me out.

  For whatever reason, Sean thought I was talking about the gentleman’s club. But I was referring to the tennis club. Kickboxing is out for now, and there’s nothing like a game of tennis to take the edge off. Okay, sex is so much better than tennis, but for now I’ll need to settle for a racket and blue balls.

  We dress for the sport and head out of the locker rooms to the indoor courts. It’s practically empty today, with the exception of a pair playing at the far end. Surely people have headed out early on holiday. Sean and I make a few practice serves.

  “You gonna tell me what’
s going on? You only drag me out here in the middle of the day if something’s wrong,” he says from the other side of the net.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Whatever, man.” He serves the ball so fast that it whizzes past me. He laughs. “Mate, how did you miss that?”

  “I wasn’t ready.”

  Sean shakes his head, bouncing the ball off the court. “I’ll tell you what. If I win, you have to tell me what’s bothering you. And if you win, I’ll treat you to a night at the real club later.”

  The gentleman’s club is definitely not the best place for me right now. Doesn’t quite go with my new image. He can buy me a pint at the pub instead because there’s no way I’m going to let him win this match.

  Over the hour, I play as hard as I can, dripping sweat from my brow and grunting with every hit. Sean’s playing like Andre Agassi and I’m playing like someone with a broken arm. Every time I think I have my head in the game, my thoughts go back to Liz. Am I handling this all wrong? Maybe I should just tell her the real reason. But then I’d have to tell her about the lawsuit, which I really don’t want to do. Not because there’s any truth to it, but Liz doesn’t know me well enough to know that. And I’d hate for her to think of me like that, like someone who takes advantage of women. Not to mention my new—fake—fiancée is due to arrive soon. And I sure as hell don’t want to tell Liz about that.

  “Match point!” Sean calls and serves the ball.

  I swing and miss.

  He raises his arms in the air, making a V for victorious. “Yes! I won!”

  I drop my head and throw my racket, trying to catch my breath.

  “That was terrible.” He takes a swig from his water bottle, sweat dripping down the tip of his nose. “I’ve never seen you play so badly. Now you have to tell me what’s going on.”

  Sean and I meet at the net and I clutch the rope in my hand. My eyes burning from the sweat run-off. “If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone. It’s serious.”

  “Okay.” His playful expression falls away instantly.

  I clear my throat. “Do you remember Sophia?”