Keely forced herself to lift one, just one, arrogant eyebrow. “Nothing about you scares me, Seymour.”
Dare had the temerity to smile. “Oh, honey, everything about me scares you.”
Keely tipped her head to the side and ignored her tumbling heart. “Are you experiencing a rush of blood to your head? An aneurysm? A little brain episode? Because you’re acting weird.”
“You’re using sarcasm to avoid the subject. You’re scared of me because I’m strong enough, man enough, to cope with your sharp tongue and pushy personality.”
That’s what they all said, and she’d trusted them enough to believe her previous lovers. Then they bailed. They always bailed.
She wasn’t stupid enough to believe Dare would be the exception to the rule.
Keely placed her hands on her hips, annoyed with him and equally annoyed with herself for wanting to believe him. Keely made herself wave at the bed, dismissing their lovemaking with her hand. “It’s just sex, Dare. You’re seeing something that isn’t there.”
Dare flung back the sheet and gracefully rose to his feet, supremely confident in his nakedness. He loomed over her but Keely met his hard stare with one of her own. “You can BS yourself, Keely, but don’t try to BS me. I see your eyes when I touch you, I hear your moans, the way your voice softens when you say my name.”
“That’s what women say in the heat of the moment,” Keely protested. “Don’t take my words seriously.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Dare responded. He cupped her chin in his hands and Keely narrowed her eyes at him. “I can read you, Keely, and you’re not half as tough as you think you are. Something is bubbling between us and it’s more than sex.”
Keely’s stomach rolled over. Oh God, not again. She couldn’t do this again. “It’s only sex, Seymour. You’re getting the physical and the emotional confused.”
“The hell I am,” Dare muttered, dropping his hand. He took a step back and sent her a slow, sarcastic smile, lifting those incredible shoulders in a small shrug. “Cool. Then find someone else who can give you the same buzz.”
Horror at the suggestion must’ve jumped into her eyes because Dare’s expression turned from sarcasm to satisfaction. “Not keen on that idea, huh?”
Keely placed her hands behind her back and pulled an implacable expression onto her face. She would not let him get the better of her in this argument. He won most of the arguments they had, usually by using logic to get his point across. It was very annoying.
“This conversation is ridiculous and it’s time it ended,” Keely told him, walking across the room to pick up his suit pants from the floor. She tossed them onto the bed and plucked his dress shirt off the occasional chair, resisting the urge to put the fabric to her nose, inhaling his unique smell.
Dare found his boxer briefs, pulled them on and reached for his pants. Keely didn’t like the contemplative look on his face, knew that his sharp brain was working a mile a minute behind those gorgeous navy eyes. Yeah, he was up to something and she suspected it wouldn’t be anything she liked…
She hated to be kept waiting. “Just spit it out, will you?” Keely demanded.
Dare pulled on his shirt and left the sides unbuttoned, pushing the tails back to slide his hands into the pockets of his pants. He sent her a steady look. “Do you want to stop sleeping with me?”
“No! Hell, no!” Okay, maybe she should not have responded so quickly, been a little cooler, played a little harder to get.
“Good to know.” Dare’s mouth tipped up at the corners. “The thing is, Keely, I still want to sleep with you, too, but I also want more.”
More? How much more? Oh, crap. Keely lifted her hand to her throat, feeling her windpipe constrict. “Uh…what…um…”
“I’ve rendered you speechless. I’m impressed,” Dare commented. He lifted his hand at her hot stare. “Okay, here’s the deal…”
She didn’t like the determined look in his eyes, the tension behind his genial expression. “I’m a guy, so obviously, I don’t want to stop sharing your bed and exploring your amazing body…”
“But?” Because an enormous but had just strolled into her bedroom and plopped itself down, looking expectant.
“But, if you want to sleep with me, you’re going to have to give me something first.”
Ah, like what? Did she even want to know? Keely wasn’t sure she did, mostly because she suspected there wasn’t a hell of a lot she wouldn’t do for sex with Dare.
Damn him.
“If you want sex, then I want a date.”
A date… What?
Keely wrinkled her nose, confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Dare tucked his shirttails into his pants, did up his expensive ostrich-skin belt. “For every hour we spend in bed, I want two hours where we talk, dance, interact.”
Keely’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “Do you dance?”
“I can shuffle.” Dare walked over to where she stood, gripping the back of her chair for support. He picked up her hand, skimmed her knuckles with his lips. “You look like I’ve just asked you to experiment with whips and chains and leather chaps.”
“I… I…” Dammit. Where had all her words gone? She was never at a loss for words.
“You are determined to keep our relationship bedroom-based, Keely. I’m determined to take it up a notch.”
“How much more?”
“I want to marry you and for you to have my babies.”
Shock must’ve jumped into her eyes because Dare laughed, his blue eyes turning softer, gentler. “Okay, the look on your face was priceless. I’m just kidding, Killer.”
Keely narrowed her eyes at his use of the nickname, but then quickly turned away, hoping he couldn’t sense her disappointment at the quick retraction of his marriage-and-kids offer. Because it was her dearest dream. Marriage and a family were all she’d ever really wanted.
A proper place to belong…
Dare rolled his big shoulders, looking pensive. “We’re not kids anymore, Keely, and the enemies-with-benefits thing is getting old. I just want to see if the spark can build into a fire.”
She’d experienced many sparks, a few fires, but they’d been quickly smothered or doused by her strong personality or her partner’s inability to deal with it.
No, she couldn’t do this. Not with Dare. Not with this man who would, she was convinced, make mincemeat of her heart. “It won’t work, Dare.”
Dare slid his thumb over her bottom lip. “Of course it will, Keels, just trust me.”
She couldn’t; she had too much to lose. Her heart had already taken far too many knocks. She had to protect herself.
Keely pushed steel into her spine, stepped away from him and wrapped her arms around her torso. She made herself shrug. “Okay, no deal.” She held out her hand for him to shake. “It was fun while it lasted.”
Dare had the temerity to grin. He took her hand and yanked her into him, his lips sliding across hers. Keely was about to sink into the kiss when he pulled away. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. You want what I do, you’re just too stubborn and scared to admit it. I bet you won’t last two weeks before you call me up and invite me to dinner.”
“When pigs fly.”
Dare kissed the tip of her nose, still openly amused. “And I expect you to pay for dinner and for us to talk, Keely. Only if I think you’ve tried will I allow you to have your way with me.”
Keely wanted to slap him senseless. “You are such a jerk!”
“Because I’m done with you dictating the parameters of this relationship?” Dare asked, and she saw the hint of the ruthless lawyer he was. “Because I want more than just your body?”
“Because you’re pushing me.”
“I’m pushing you because you are braver and better than this, sweetheart.” Dare bent down to pick up his s
hoes and sent her a tight smile. “I’ll wait for your call.”
“When hell freezes over.” Keely tossed the words at his back.
Dare stopped and looked over his shoulder, sending her a slow, sexy smile. “Is that before or after pigs fly? I look forward to seeing both.”
Argh. Keely released a wail of frustration and noticed her hairbrush on the side table. By the time she picked it up and launched it in his direction, the infuriating man had left her room.
She would not call him, buy him supper, spend hours talking to him. He was out of his mind if he thought she was that weak…
But dammit, the thought of not seeing him again made her heart feel empty, hollow and cold.
But that was better than having her heart broken.
THREE
Beah felt Finn roll out of the bed, and as soon as the bathroom door closed behind him, she left his bed and looked around for her clothes. Not finding her dress or her underwear—clothes had flown as soon as she’d stepped into his massive luxurious suite—she pulled Finn’s black shirt over her head, grateful when the tails hit her knees. Picking up a glass of water off his nightstand, she tipped the glass against her lips and allowed the water to slide down her parched throat.
She’d kill for some coffee. Beah pushed her curls back from her forehead, wincing as she remembered how Finn had pulled her pins from her hair, wrapping his hands in her out-of-control curls. Beah knew most of her makeup had either been kissed or rubbed off and her freckles would be on full display, making her look like the young woman she’d once been, instead of the woman she was now.
Her makeup and hair were shields, some of the many she kept up as barriers between her and the world. And she’d keep them up. She wouldn’t let a hard-bodied, superbly-talented-at-making-her-scream man sneak through her defenses again. She’d worked too hard to transform herself, to become financially and emotionally independent. She couldn’t allow herself to slide back. Finn had taught her that the only person she could trust, the only person she could rely on, was herself.
No, she needed to make it clear to him this was only about sex. They’d shared a night exploring each other’s bodies and that’s as far as they could ever go.
They had chemistry, not a connection.
As the door to the bathroom opened, Beah reached up to scoop her long hair off her back. She wished she had some pins or a band, but having neither, she twisted it into a messy knot, thinking anything was better than looking like a wild Irish waif.
Conscious of Finn’s eyes on the tops of her thighs, Beah dropped her arms and the shirt fell a couple of inches. Trying to act cool, like having soul-shattering sex was something she was accustomed to, Beah rocked on her feet. She needed to say something clever or, at the very least, utter a casual greeting but…man.
How could anyone act casual when she was confronted by six feet three inches of sculpted muscle? Beah allowed her eyes to dance over his ridged stomach, across his chest lightly covered with blond hair, over those huge arms. He didn’t have an inch of fat on him and, if possible, was stronger and fitter than he’d been in his midtwenties. His narrow hips were covered by a white towel and Beah lifted her fingers to her mouth to check she wasn’t drooling.
Shake it off, sunshine.
He wasn’t perfect; he never had been. He was aloof and distant and while he was supersmart, his communication skills needed work. A lot of work…
Finn walked over to the bedside table and picked up the phone. Beah stared at his bare back, heard him order coffee and thanked God one of them had their priorities straight. A shower, a quick cup of coffee and she was out of here.
Finn replaced the phone in its cradle and turned to face her. He gestured to the bed, and his green eyes, mysterious and unfathomable, pinned her to the floor. “That was…”
It wasn’t like Finn to look for words. “Fun? Interesting? A mistake?” Beah attempted to fill in the blanks.
Finn folded his arms across his chest. “One and two. A mistake? Not if we don’t want it to be.”
Finn was a master of speaking in riddles. “Meaning?” Beah snapped.
“It only becomes a mistake if we allow it to be one,” Finn slowly responded. “In my head, it was a great night spent with a woman I once adored.”
Adored, not loved. Hearing him speak about his feelings in the past tense shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. Beah straightened her shoulders, more annoyed with herself than she was with him. They’d been divorced for so long, but he still could prick at her. It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous.
Finn glanced at the door and then back at her. He gestured to the vacant bathroom behind her. “Would you like to take a shower? I’ll find your clothes while I’m waiting for room service.”
Oh, it was obvious he couldn’t wait for her to leave, that while he loved her body, he wasn’t keen on her company. It was fairly obvious not much had changed in a decade.
But she wouldn’t let him see even a hint of discomfort. She would not make this out to be anything more than a night of shared pleasure. “A shower sounds great, and I’ll have a quick cup of coffee. I still have to get home before making it to Paris’s house by nine.”
“I can handle Paris if you want to skip the meeting.”
Oh hell no. She’d been trying to get her foot into the door with Paris Cummings for years now and she wouldn’t let Finn do her job for her. She would join Finn at the meeting and she’d get Paris to sign an official Murphy International document and she would add another collector to her already impressive client base.
And when she saw Finn again, nobody would suspect he’d licked her from tip to toe, that they’d brought each other to orgasm after orgasm with startling regularity.
Nobody would suspect a damn thing.
Because it was one night, not her life.
“Take your time.”
Finn’s words jerked her back to the present and she nodded. Right, head on straight, Jenkinson. Be cool.
As she crossed over from the window to the bathroom door, she heard Finn’s phone ping with an incoming message. Hers probably had a dozen emails and another dozen messages, all from clients needing advice, wanting to sell or needing to buy.
Shutting the door behind her, Beah resisted the impulse to find her phone, to see what she’d missed. Fifteen minutes wouldn’t make a difference. She was allowed a little time to enjoy this luxurious shower and the upmarket lotions and potions the hotel provided its guests.
Beah pulled Finn’s shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor, stepping into the glass shower enclosure. She sighed as the hot water hit her shoulders, her neck, releasing the tension in her lower back. She loved her apartment in Notting Hill, but the water pressure was terrible and her showers were more like soft drizzles than hard, warm summer storms. She might not leave his shower, not ever.
Hearing the door open, Beah looked over her shoulder to see Finn leaning against the bathroom counter, staring down at the expensive phone in his hand.
“Hey,” Beah protested, keeping her back to him.
Finn glanced up, looking distracted. “Bee, I saw every inch of you last night. That horse has bolted.”
True. Beah turned, looked at him and noticed his preoccupation, the worried frown pulling his thick eyebrows together. “What’s the matter, Finn?”
Finn waved his phone at her. “Do you remember Ben?”
Of course she did. Ben was Finn’s oldest friend. Ben and his girlfriend, Piper, had been the only people invited to Finn and Beah’s spur-of-the-moment wedding. Then Ben and Piper split up and, after the divorce, Beah lost touch with both of them. A pity, because she’d liked them both.
“I lost contact with them. I’m glad you didn’t,” Beah said, pouring a healthy amount of the body wash into her hand.
“Ben and I talk every couple of months,” Finn replied. “He’s still in Ho
ng Kong, working as an investment banker.”
Beah waited for him to continue, knowing it wouldn’t help to tell Finn to hurry up with the explanations. He’d do it in his own time, or not at all.
“He wants a favor,” Finn said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Finn wasn’t the most social of men but once he made a friend, he rarely lost them. It didn’t escape her notice that Finn held on to his friends, but he’d let her go easily.
Go away, hurt and disappointment. There’s no place for you in my head.
“He and Piper are getting married. In six weeks.”
Well, there was some lovely news. Beah grinned. “That’s awesome. When did they get back together again? Is she in Hong Kong?”
“They reconnected about a year ago and Piper moved to Hong Kong to be with Ben.”
All good news, so why was Finn in the bathroom with her? “Well, what does the message say?”
Finn glanced down at the screen. “‘We’re getting married. Need a hell of a favor,’” he read. “That’s weird, because Ben isn’t the type to ask for anything.”
Beah frowned as she rinsed the soap off her body. “What sort of favor?” she asked. “And do you have a spare toothbrush?”
Finn reached for the handle to the drawer next to his hip, looked down and grabbed a toothbrush, still in its plastic cover. He put his phone on the counter and stared down at it as he wrangled the toothbrush out of its cover. Reaching for the paste, he squeezed some onto the head of her brush before yanking open the shower door and handing her the brush.
It was all very normal, so domestic, like it was a routine they had down pat. But nothing about this situation was normal…
Beah popped the brush into her mouth and shut off the water. She took the towel Finn held out and wrapped it around her torso, tucking the ends into the material under her arms. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Finn’s fingers tap out a message and within a minute, he had a reply.
Beah nodded at his phone. “So?”
Harlequin Desire June 2020 - Box Set 1 of 2 Page 33