‘Do me a favour,’ Josh said, interrupting those thoughts with that low, crisp voice. ‘Close your eyes for a second, and try to pretend that you don’t think I’m a creep.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ Lottie replied. She lowered her lashes, but not all the way, wondering what on earth he was up to. Her skin prickled, and she found herself holding onto her bag a little too tightly. She reminded herself that they’d come here to talk, and she still had plenty to ask.
‘Close your eyes,’ he said again.
This time she did as she was told, and the prickle gave way to a little tingle of awareness. She could sense him moving closer. No, she thought suddenly. No, this is…
Lottie made herself drink in some air and tried to remember the life-changing gem she’d picked out of the self-help book that was propped open on the little white table at the side of her bed. Visualise your place of safety. Her desk. Her computer. The door of her office, firmly closed. She put herself there.
And then her feet left the floor.
She opened her eyes and found his face only inches from hers. One arm was tucked under her knees, the other around her waist. Slipping her arms round his neck was instinctive, easy. He didn’t look at her, instead made his way across to the bar, setting her back on her feet next to one of the chairs.
Lottie sank down into it, not quite sure what had just happened. Okay, she knew exactly what had just happened. She’d just been picked up and carried across the room like something from a romantic film. Her pulse was frantic, her body on sensory overload as her brain worked through all the new discoveries, like the way he smelled close up, how the skin on his jaw was already starting to shadow, how silky his hair had felt when her fingers had accidentally brushed against it, how heart-stoppingly strong he was.
She kicked off her shoes and watched him move behind the half-finished bar. He opened a fridge and rummaged through it. ‘I’ve got water,’ he said. ‘Sparkling and still. Then various sodas and juices. No champagne, I’m afraid.’
He sounded so normal. ‘Water,’ Lottie managed. ‘Water is fine.’
The bottle fizzed as he uncapped it, tipped some into a mug and pushed it in her direction. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Tell me why my mother should sell her stuff through you.’
Josh drank straight from the bottle, watching as she fiddled around with the mug, then set it back on the bar. She stretched out her legs and wiggled her toes, which were dainty and battered looking. ‘Spencer’s offers first-class service to all clients. We like to think we treat each client not only as an individual, but as a friend, and we feel the same about all the antiques that we sell. We offer a competitive rate of fees, and use all available methods of promotion, including the internet.’
Josh rolled his eyes. ‘You really pull in business with that speech? It’s lame.’
She tucked her feet under the chair and eyed him from under those long, dark lashes. ‘You think you can do better?’
‘Probably,’ he admitted with a grin. ‘But I don’t want the marketing spiel. You told me the business was in trouble.’
‘It is.’ She picked up her mug, took a small swallow, then rolled it between her palms. ‘The last couple of years have been particularly tough. Auction websites are killing us.’
‘And you’re desperate to keep it going.’ It was a statement, not a question.
‘You could say that.’ She set the mug down, lifted her hands to her hair and did something to it that made it look slightly less of a mess.
Josh wondered why she didn’t just take it down. He’d like her to take it down, he realised, and knew then that he was heading into dangerous territory. Problem was, he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his distance. She’d called him a creep. He couldn’t help admiring her for it.
‘The auction house has been in my family for a really, really long time,’ she said. ‘My great-granddad opened it. My dad inherited it when I was four. He met my mum when she sold some of her aunt’s jewellery. I can’t just let it close. When I found out that your mother…’ she paused, and clenched her hands together. ‘When I heard that she was selling some of her memorabilia, I thought this is it, this is my big chance. I didn’t take a second to think any further than that.’
Her chin dropped to her chest, and she pulled in a breath. ‘I didn’t think about how it would look to you, having some total stranger use you to get to her. I’m really sorry. It’s a scummy thing to do.’
Josh set the palms of his hands flat on the top of the bar. The brushed steel was cold and hard, in stark contrast to the soft, warm woman sat opposite. No-one had ever said that to him before. No-one had ever said they were sorry. It was an odd feeling. He liked it.
Then her head jerked up. ‘How did you know I was there to see you, anyway?’
‘You kept looking at me.’
‘You kept looking at me,’ she pointed out. ‘Takes two to tango, mister.’
‘You’re very pretty,’ Josh said. ‘What did you expect?’
Her mouth opened then closed again, and her cheeks went pink, but she didn’t say anything.
‘Am I edging back into creep territory?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘To be honest, you are so ridiculously good looking that my brain is a little scrambled right now. That’s why I couldn’t talk to you back at the conference. I just…you make me nervous. That’s all.’
‘And then I came over and acted like a total jerk.’
I couldn’t figure you out,’ she admitted. ‘You weren’t what I expected at all.’
‘And now?’
‘I have to admit you’re growing on me.’
The bar had seemed like a good barrier, a necessary one. Now it felt in the way. Shrugging out of his jacket, Josh tossed it aside, then strolled round to where she sat. Despite her attempt to fix her hair, loose strands of it softly laced the nape of her neck, trailed down across her collarbone, and he felt a sharp pull of desire, low in his gut. If Lottie had managed to find out that his mother was selling her stuff, it wouldn’t be long before the press found out.
It was all about damage limitation now. That, and exploring the unexpected affinity he had with this lush beauty who couldn’t tell a lie if her life depended on it.
It was so hard for him to trust anyone. Impossible, really. But when she laid it all out like that, when she didn’t bother to paint herself in a good light, it made him want to trust her. The urge to touch her again rose up inside him, and he didn’t fight it. He leaned his hip against the bar, folded his arms and nudged her foot with the tip of his shoe, cautiously teasing, boldly curious.
‘Are you single, Lottie?’
She crossed her legs at the knee, moving her foot out of his way. ‘Uh-huh,’ she replied, moving her ankle round in a slow circle. Her toenails were silver, matching her nails, her jewellery. Feminine, but not too flashy, too obvious.
‘Oh,’ Josh replied, letting his gaze drift from the arch of her foot to her knee. Her skin was bare, creamy. He already knew it was soft. ‘So am I.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘You were Guilty Pleasures’ Bachelor of the Week.’ She glanced up at him, fiddled with her earring. ‘So why no girlfriend?’
Josh reached for his drink. ‘It’s hard to get one when you’re a creep.’
She laughed, a pretty sound. He wanted to hear more of it. ‘Cover’s blown, Josh. I know the truth, remember?’
‘I’m not interested in commitment,’ he said. ‘I travel a lot. My life is unpredictable.’ He shrugged. ‘Women get tired of that pretty quickly.’
‘And the fact that you don’t trust anyone doesn’t have anything to do with it?’
‘You don’t pull any punches, do you?’
She leaned down, rubbed the arch of her foot, and a low bolt of arousal shot straight to his groin. ‘Takes one to know one,’ she said. ‘The last man I was involved with was only interested in me because he wanted to stop his mother selling her collection of Lalique glass. It was worth a pretty p
enny. Put it this way—if we had auctioned it, I wouldn’t be here with you.’ Her fingers trailed upwards and got to work massaging her shapely calf.
‘Sounds like he screwed you over pretty bad.’
‘You could say that.’ Those slender fingers worked their way back down to her ankle, then on to the arch of her foot. ‘But I was stupid enough to let him do it. All I had to do was keep my knickers on. Pillow talk is a bitch.’
That low hum of arousal got louder. Much louder. An almost possessive urge took hold of Josh, and he set down his drink and reached for her hand. One quick pull was all it took to have her on her feet.
She gasped. ‘Hey!’
This close, he could feel the warmth of her body and smell her perfume, which was something subtle and flowery, the sort of scent that beckoned a man closer.
He wanted to get closer. He wanted to get a hell of a lot closer. One-night stands were a bad idea, he knew that, which was why he’d sworn off them a long time ago. But right now, he was hard pushed to remember why.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth for the briefest of moments. It was all he needed to know. ‘What would you say if I asked you to come home with me?’
Things moved so fast after that Lottie could barely work out how it happened. One minute she’d been fleeing City Hall, failure incarnate, the next she was in the passenger seat of a jet-black Porsche and headed for Josh Blakemore’s house. They hadn’t talked about why they were going back to his place, but they both knew. She’d seen the unspoken intent in his eyes, the question. She’d had every chance to say no.
She’d chosen not to.
Eyeing the complicated controls on the walnut dash, Lottie fanned herself with her hand.
Josh cut her a sideways glance. ‘Hot?’
It was August. There was absolutely nothing inappropriate about being hot. It was fine to say she was hot, though maybe not how hot. ‘A little.’
He thumbed a switch on the dashboard. A blast of arctic air hit her infuriatingly sensitive breasts. ‘Better?’
‘Absolutely.’ Lottie gritted her teeth, as her nipples tightened and tingled.
What they really needed was warmth. Like the kind male hands could supply, if they were big. The ones currently caressing the steering wheel were big, with large, square palms, and thick, blunt fingers.
She turned her head and stared out of the window as the car eased to a halt at the traffic lights. A swirling mass of tension rose from the pit of her stomach, into her chest. Lottie hooked her hands under her seatbelt and hoped he didn’t notice they were shaking as she slowly twisted round and found him watching her.
‘What are we doing?’ she asked softly.
‘We’re doing what we both want to.’ The low rumble of the engine vibrated through her, as he regarded her steadily, his blue eyes even brighter somehow.
A cacophony of furious horns smashed through the moment. ‘Bloody hell.’ Josh slammed his hand onto the gear stick, the mouth that had been so close to hers curving with amusement. ‘Green light.’
He forced the car into first, taking the right turn at speed. Lottie jammed her heels tightly into the foot well. ‘Is it much further?’ she managed. A Porsche didn’t offer much in the way of space, not with a man of Josh Blakemore’s height and build inside it. She could practically feel the heat from his body, every movement of his muscular thighs underneath the snug fabric of his charcoal-grey trousers causing a miniature explosion in the pit of her stomach. If the lights had changed just a few seconds later…
With one more sharp twist of the wheel, Josh brought the car to a standstill in front of a four-storey townhouse that rose out of the pavement like an expensively veneered tooth. Ornate black railings speared up in front of it, the otherwise bare frontage in sharp contrast with the ivy-draped houses on either side.
He slung an arm across the back of her seat and nodded to the house. ‘Is this close enough for you?’
Lottie tipped her head back so she could take in the full view of the magnificent property. ‘You live here?’
‘I stay here occasionally. Not sure I’d call it living.’ He elbowed open his door and levered himself out of the car. Lottie didn’t move. Her hand located the button for her seatbelt, but her thumb exerted no pressure.
In that moment at the lights, there’d been something in those bright blue eyes. Something hot and primitive, that had called to something equally as base and instinctive in her. Desire expanded in her stomach, the undeniable slip of it all too apparent as she finally released the seatbelt that bound her to the butter-soft leather. Pushing her door open, Lottie swung out one leg, planting her foot firmly on the pavement.
The car was low. Her heel was high. Grabbing at the edge of the door, she tried and failed to heave herself out. So much for dignity.
‘Here.’ Josh held out his hand, and not for the first time, Lottie found herself staring at it, wanting to touch. Only this time, they both knew why they were here. Don’t do it, whispered the good girl inside her. You swore you wouldn’t get involved with anyone connected to work.
‘Come on,’ he said, wiggling his fingers. ‘This car wasn’t designed with women in mind.’
‘What was it designed for?’
He grabbed her hand, held tight, and the good girl inside her was trampled under a rampaging horde of lust-driven thoughts. ‘So men could burn off their sexual frustration.’
‘Does it work?’
‘I’m contemplating asking for a refund.’
Then he pulled her out of the car. Her hand met the wall of his shoulder, and for a moment there was nothing. Nothing but the warm, masculine scent of him, nothing but those long fingers spread wide around her hip.
He cut the space, and the few brain cells she had left melted. One arm snaked around her side, his face lowering towards hers. His breath caressed her cheek, warm and sweet, and Lottie turned her head, control gone. Instinct taking over. She sought his mouth, wanting that intimate contact so badly it hurt.
Then there was a loud thunk. ‘You forgot to shut the car door,’ he whispered softly against her ear, lingering for a moment as her body arched up to meet his. But he denied her the contact she craved, the thin, weightless press of empty air replacing the heavy heat of that big male frame.
Lottie heard herself whimper. Her hands shot to her hair, her lips, smoothed the front of her dress. Dying from embarrassment seemed not only possible, but probable. Josh had managed to make it all the way to the front door, she noticed. No jelly-legged walk of shame for him. He inserted a key into the round brass lock, twisted it, then pushed the midnight-blue door open and beckoned to her. ‘The last thing we want is to be photographed snogging on the doorstep,’ he said. ‘Guilty Pleasures would have a field day.’
Lottie stepped over the threshold and eased the door closed. Silence wrapped around her, squeezed like a fist as she stood there in the bewitching semi-darkness, fidgeting with the chain around her neck. She’d had so much to say earlier, more than enough, and now she couldn’t think of a single word.
‘I don’t think anyone is watching now,’ he said. ‘So are you going to let me?’
‘Let you what?’
‘Do what I’ve been wanting to do since the first moment I saw you.’
‘Oh. Really?’
‘Hell, yes.’
She pulled in a slow breath. ‘You’re the son of a potential client.’
‘You can trust me,’ he said.
‘Can I?’ she replied. ‘Half the time, I can’t even trust myself.’
‘I am not going to screw you over,’ he said. ‘I don’t do that to people.’
He placed his free hand against the door, leaned closer, and Lottie let herself drink in all that masculinity. She looked up at him, those bright blue eyes dark now, his pupils huge and liquid black. His breath grazed her cheek, warm and sweet, his chest only one deep inhale away from brushing against her tingling breasts. ‘Do you know what I like about you?’ he asked. ‘We’re two of a kind, you and m
e.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she retorted, suppressing a nervous giggle. ‘You were Bachelor of the Week. Last time I checked, I wasn’t in the running for BabeWatch.’ Lottie tried to stop herself from trembling. She didn’t want him to think she was fazed by any of this. She wanted him to think she was totally confident with all of it, that it hadn’t been eight months since the last time she’d had sex, and that she wasn’t panicking about the fact that she hadn’t shaved her legs that morning.
‘I don’t give a toss about what the media think of me,’ he said. ‘But you understand what it’s like to trust someone and get burned.’ His hands found her waist. ‘So do I.’
And there it was. The elephant in the room, that had been sat on her stomach for the past hour. Was she really about to get naked with a man she’d met through work? Again? It wasn’t that they’d only just met, although a little part of her acknowledged that that should bother her far more than it did. She already felt like she knew him. She’d already shared secrets with him, humiliating secrets.
But that wasn’t the real problem. She could accept that Spencer’s was never in a million years going to get Marlene Blakemore as a client. It had been the longest of long shots anyway, even if it would take her the rest of the year to get over her disappointment.
She just couldn’t go through with it knowing that this man, this sexy, sharply intelligent man was only in her life because she’d been prepared to use him for her own ends. She hadn’t even hesitated. He deserved better than that, surely.
She swallowed down the brick in her throat, and said the killer words. ‘I don’t think we should do this.’
His hands fell away. He swore softly, turned on his heel and walked away. Lottie felt her confidence evaporate as he disappeared through a door at the end of the hallway. Where was her pile of self-help books when she needed them? She’d jumped from hot to cold faster than the decrepit shower in her flat.
She fixed her hair as best she could and headed towards the door Josh had disappeared through. Her stomach shrank into a fist-sized ball, but she had to do this. She had to explain.
Once A Bad Girl Page 3