Once they were both dressed—Gloria having dragged the T-shirt and tracksuit bottoms back on—Rafe walked over and took her hand. “That’s better… sort of.” He glanced down at her body, then back up to her face, and grinned. “It’ll have to do. I’m beginning to think you’d look good in absolutely anything. Anyway, as I was saying—the workshop. Will you come?”
She shrugged. “I guess I can, if you really want me to. I’m just not sure what else we can add to the article at this stage. All I need now is to watch your races and log your final results, and it’s in the bag.”
Frowning, Rafe replied, “The article? Gloria…” He blew out a breath and ran his free hand through his hair. “This isn’t about the article. I just wanted… I mean, I know racing isn’t your thing, but I thought it’d be nice to spend some more time together. I really enjoyed yesterday and last night. And I don’t just mean the sex—although that was mind-blowing. I thought… maybe I was wrong… but I thought that we had a connection. Something more than just physical.”
She could hardly believe her ears. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? “Rafe, I… thought this was just a one-off thing for you.”
“Why? I never said that.”
“I know, I just assumed—”
“Assumed what?”
Her blood started to pump faster through her veins. Here we go again—another argument. “I dunno…” She shrugged. “I just didn’t think you were looking for anything other than sex.”
He stared at her for a moment, his jaw slack. Then he said, “You know what? To be fair, I wasn’t. Same as you, I’m here this weekend to work. So I wasn’t looking for sex, either. That just kind of happened. And, well… I like you, Gloria. I guess on paper we’re not all that compatible—I don’t think a dating site would say we were a good match—but I’ve had a lot of fun with you. I’m not proposing anything serious—Christ, we barely know each other, but, maybe we can get together when our schedules allow, and see how it goes?”
She’d gaped at him throughout his little speech, and continued to do so until the silence became unbearable. “But…” She scratched her head. “Rafe, what are you saying?”
“Bloody hell, Gloria, I thought you were smart. Aren’t you the one that’s supposed to spell things out for people? I’m saying I’d like to date you. But in the much more immediate future, I’d like to spend every moment I can with you this weekend. I know you’ve got to write your article, but, maybe we can grab a little bit of time?” He squeezed her hand, then lifted it to his lips and kissed it. “Tell you what—I’ll leave you to think about it. I know I kinda sprung this on you, but I got the impression—mistakenly, it seems—that we were on the same wavelength. I just… like I said, Gloria, I like you. Despite our, er, difficult start, I find you easy to talk to. You might not believe this, but I’ve opened up to you more than anyone except my brothers. That’s a big thing for me.”
She did believe that, actually. And it was that belief, that reminder of his honesty, that made her realise she wasn’t being honest. With herself, or with Rafe. She’d been so focussed on what she thought she knew about him, about the Rafe she’d first met, that she’d completely ignored everything she’d learned about him since. There was much, much more to him than his arrogant bad boy biker persona—which was exactly that. A persona. People acted differently depending on who was around, and what situation they were in. Take Rafe Donovan out of his leathers, away from bikes and the race track, and you could peel back the layers to discover who he was underneath.
And the man underneath was one that she was very, very attracted to—physically, emotionally and mentally. One that she would definitely like to date. She didn’t think for a moment that it would be easy—he’d already mentioned their schedules, which were both hectic, to say the least—and then there was the not-inconsiderable matter of his job being dangerous. But then, when was anything worthwhile ever easy?
Rafe started to withdraw his hand, reminding her that she hadn’t responded. “Shit.” She grabbed onto him. “No, wait. Don’t leave. I’m sorry. My mind’s spinning. I do need some time to get my head around this, but before you get the wrong impression, I want to tell you the one thing I’m already sure of. I like you, too, Rafe. A lot. I was just too scared to admit it, even to myself. I’ve had an amazing time with you, too, and I appreciate that you trusted me enough to open up to me—in spite of my appalling behaviour yesterday. So, hopefully we’ll get time to talk more—privately—later on, but in the meantime… yes, I’ll be at the workshop. But not right away, as I do have to work. But I will be there.”
“Great!” He grinned from ear to ear. “Actually, that doesn’t even really cover what I’m feeling right now, so maybe I should just show you.”
He tugged his hand from hers and cupped her face, drawing her into a heartfelt kiss. It was chaste compared to their previous embraces, but laden with meaning. When he pulled away they were both breathing heavily. “Right!” he said, stepping back and putting some distance between them, “I’m going to leave now before that leads somewhere even more exciting.”
Gloria giggled—something she didn’t do all that often. Ugh, maybe I really am straitlaced. Guess Rafe brings out my fun side. “Yeah, I think that’s probably a good idea. I’ll see you later, all right?”
Rafe nodded and made for the door. “Looking forward to it already.” He opened the door.
Just before he stepped out, Gloria called, “Rafe?”
“Yeah?”
“You know how you said to leave your brothers to you?”
“Yeah?” He frowned.
“Do you think you could ... err ... figure something out before I come to the workshop? I don’t want to spend the next two days being glared at.”
“Of course. I’ll sort it, I promise.” He paused, his expression thoughtful. “They’re good guys, Gloria. They’re just a bit overprotective. You know, because of our parents… but at the same time they only want me to be happy. And you…” He tailed off and looked at the floor, but not before she spotted the blush creeping over his cheeks.
Christ—how much more adorable can this guy get?
Not wanting to embarrass him further, she smiled and said, “Fair enough.” She blew him a kiss, figuring it was safer than walking over and giving him a real one. They’d definitely never leave the room if she did that. “Now get out, before I kick you out.”
Rafe caught the kiss and blew one back. “I’d like to see you try. Later, gorgeous.”
“Later.” She shook her head at his antics, but he’d already gone.
Epilogue
Gloria knocked on Graeme’s office door, her stomach churning with nerves. He looked up and waved her in, smiling widely.
“Gloria!” he said as she entered. “Please, take a seat.”
“Thanks. So,” she prompted, unable to take the suspense any longer, “how was it? My article?”
“You want my honest opinion?”
Her heart sank. Oh God—she’d fucked it up. “O-of course.”
“Frankly, I think I’m going to have to challenge you more often. It was brilliant—well done. It was a really good mix of the human interest piece I asked for and reporting on the action, as well as the race results. Just a bonus, really, that Rafe Donovan happened to come in third overall. It’s a good result for him. I take it you’ve seen today’s edition?”
She hadn’t—because she hadn’t been brave enough to look, half-expecting a blank space where her article should have been, because it was so crap they’d refused to print it, preferring an empty page. “Mmm-hmm,” she replied noncommittally. Then his words sunk in. “Hey, wait. You liked it?”
“Didn’t you just hear me say it was brilliant? Or are you fishing for compliments?” His eyes twinkled. “Seriously, Gloria, you did a great job. I’m really impressed, especially since you were so resistant to the idea. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes is exactly what was needed. Just as well, really, since it looks like the writer is goi
ng to be off sick long-term…”
“Excuse me?” she asked, her heart thumping as a possibility occurred to her.
Graeme frowned. “The writer you were standing in for… I can’t say too much, obviously, as it’s private, but he won’t be back at work for a little while.” Suddenly his expression brightened. “Hey! Since you did such a good job, maybe I can make it your pet project for the rest of the season!” He laughed loudly, slapping his palm against his desk.
“I’ll do it!” Gloria almost shouted, then clapped a hand over her mouth.
“What?” Graeme narrowed his eyes. “Did you just say you’ll do it?”
She nodded, then remembered her hand was still covering half her face. “I mean, yes, I did. I will. If you… if you want me to.”
“Are you kidding, Gloria? I’d love you to do it, but I can’t help but be a little confused, here. What the hell changed in the space of a weekend that you’ve gone from not remotely interested, to jumping at the chance to cover the rest of the tournament—which, I might add, lasts for several months?”
She dropped her gaze to her lap, where she was now twisting her hands together. “Let’s just say I… discovered an appreciation for the racers, er, I mean the sport.”
Graeme didn’t say anything, so she forced herself to look up at him. At that moment, she saw understanding dawn on his face. He raised his eyebrows, and smiled. “Gloria Heath—you dark horse!”
“E-excuse me?” Bollocks—she’d done it now. If he knew what she’d been up to with Rafe, he wouldn’t want her covering any more of the tournament.
“Ahh, don’t come the innocent with me! I think I know what’s been going on. You and… let’s see if I’m guessing correctly here… Rafe Donovan have, shall we say, made a connection? Am I right?” He waggled his eyebrows theatrically.
If it had been anyone else but Graeme—whom she’d always liked and admired—she would have told them to mind their own business. But he was her boss for starters, and he was just teasing her. Not to mention if she played her cards right, he could do her a serious favour. “Y-yes, but… aren’t I in trouble?”
Graeme shrugged. “What for? Neither of you works for the other, and, despite you being in the first flushes of overwhelming attraction, you still wrote a spectacular article. If that’s what you can do under those conditions, I look forward to finding out what you can achieve throughout the rest of the season. As long as you’re discreet, and you do your job, I have no problem with it. It’s nothing to do with me, anyway.”
Narrowing her eyes, she replied, “So are you saying that… you want me to go to every race weekend of the British Superbikes and write an article for each one?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Gloria. But although part of what you’ll be doing is following Donovan’s progress, given readers will be interested in that after reading today’s article, you’ll have to cover other contenders, too. So you will have to tear yourself away from him at some point.” He winked.
Gloria ignored the rapidly increasing heat in her face and carried on regardless, “Of course—whatever you want. All joking aside, though, I have developed a genuine interest in the sport. I think it was being there in person. On the ground, amongst all the action, the atmosphere. It’s a very exciting sport.” A thought occurred to her. “But… what about my other work? I know the British Superbikes isn’t on every weekend, but it’ll still be a big increase in my workload.”
He waved a hand casually in the air. “Do what you gotta do, Gloria. Ditch some stuff, delegate or delay other stuff. I need this tournament covered, and your change of heart has made me feel like luck is on my side. We’ll assess as you go along, to make sure you’re not burning out on too much work, but just so you know, until the end of the season, the motorsport has to be the priority over your lifestyle pieces.”
“Noted. So…” she twisted her hands in her lap again. “Am I doing it, then? Am I covering the rest of the season?”
“Yes, Gloria! For heaven’s sake, yes! You get to see your boyfriend strut his stuff and get paid for it. Now bugger off and do some work, before I change my mind.”
She jumped out of her seat and jogged to the door. She had one foot hovering over the threshold when Graeme said, “Oh, and Gloria?”
“Yes, boss?”
“Since I’m no longer having to bribe you to do this, book your own accommodation and travel, would you? Just don’t take the piss.”
A big grin spread over her face. “Not a problem. On either account.”
“Glad to hear it. Now skedaddle.”
As she made her way back to her desk, she couldn’t resist doing a little skip—which drew amused glances from her colleagues. She could hardly believe her luck. Obviously it sucked for the sports writer that was ill—she hoped it was nothing too serious—but it was amazing for her. It would make things so much easier for her and Rafe over the coming months. She’d gone from thinking they’d barely be able to see each other, to their schedules being perfectly aligned for at least one weekend per month until the middle of October.
She couldn’t wait to tell him!
She paused. Actually, maybe she wouldn’t bother—she could just show up at the next round of the tournament and surprise him.
Yeah, that was a better idea. Admittedly, she wasn’t the best person in the world at keeping secrets, but imagining the look on his face when she showed up out of the blue would be enough to help her keep her mouth shut.
In the meantime, it looked like she needed to go shopping for some sexy pyjamas. Though she doubted she’d be wearing them very often.
THE END.
About Lucy Felthouse
Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award) and The Persecution of the Wolves. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 150 publications to her name. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. You can also subscribe to her monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9
Like what you’ve read? Why not try Love Through a Lens by Lucy Felthouse? Keep reading for a little taster...
Excerpt from Love Through a Lens:
Celine gritted her teeth and hung tightly onto the straps of her backpack as she forced one foot in front of the other up the steep incline. Her heart felt like it was going to explode from her chest, and her lungs screamed with the effort of providing her oxygen supply. Really, she needed to stop, to catch her breath, regain some equilibrium. But Edward was already way ahead of her, striding powerfully along as though their chosen path were perfectly flat. He had a huge backpack of his own, too, which didn’t seem to be slowing him down a jot.
But then, this was the difference between the two of them—or one of the differences, anyway. Edward Robson, mid-list British actor, was also a very keen outdoorsman, and probably did these kinds of walks all the time—with or without a camera being pointed at him.
Celine Patterson, however, was a different story altogether. Newly graduated from university, she’d struggled to find filming work in her preferred field—fashion—and so she’d had to cast her net wider. Incredibly wide, as it happened.
With hindsight, it was easy to see why she’d gotten the job with Edward—nobody else had wanted it. Not a damn soul. Traipsing around the Peak District wasn’t so bad, but add in heavy camera equipment, camping gear, food, clothing, maps, plans, GPS unit, satellite phone and makeup—for Edward, not for her—and a nice walk suddenly became a grueling trek. The money was poor, too, especially considering she was the only member of Edward’s crew. Could a single person even be called a crew? Or was she just a dogsbody?
She’d had no choice. It was this job or nothing. Crap money or no money. And, most importantly, this credit on her CV or no credit at all. She knew she had to start rac
king the credits and references up soon, if she wanted to get ahead in the highly competitive field.
So here she was, dragging herself up a heart attack inducing hill in the wake of an actor-cum-presenter. At least the project was interesting; they were checking out sites of myths, legends and ghost stories, that kind of thing. Edward was nice, too—kind, polite and pretty funny. Even better, it wasn’t raining. Overall, things could be a damn sight worse. She could be working with animals or children—or even both. And she’d heard many times over that they were the absolute worst.
She was still convincing herself that things weren’t that bad after all, when she glanced up and came to an abrupt halt as she realized there was a crotch practically in her face. Snapping her head up so fast it made her neck hurt, she made eye contact with Edward, who was standing a couple of paces farther up the slope, hence the awkward face-to-crotch angle. Her already hot face blazed with embarrassment. For once, she hoped the fact she was overheated would hide her mortification. The slight breeze that blew was doing nothing to lower her temperature.
Buy links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/love-through-a-lens/
In Training
K D Grace
Chapter 1
Everyone Loves a Bad Boy
“Everyone loves a bad boy.” Claire Amos paced back and forth in front of the big screen where Wolf Jennings’ face was freeze-framed over his howling wolf logo in front of the class he’d just put through their paces in Hope Park. She nodded up at the video. “Certainly your clients do. I bet you could make a drill sergeant quiver in his camos.”
British Bad Boys: A Bad Boy Romance Boxed Set Page 14