Second Chances Boxed Set: 7 Sweet & Sexy Romances in 1 Book

by Tracey Alvarez

  “Me too.” He looked across at the stalls, giving her a view of his profile, his strong jaw shadowed with stubble.

  Was he trying to think how to excuse himself? She slipped her hands in her pockets and gave him a bright smile. “Well, I hope the takeover goes well.”

  “Mm.” His gaze came back to her. “What are you up to now?”

  She shrugged and glanced around. Did she have the courage to tackle the market? “I might do some shopping for a while. It looks like there might be some nice bits and pieces to take back as souvenirs.”

  He nodded. “Mind if I join you?”

  She smiled. “You don’t have to. I know you’re busy. I’ll be fine.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Are you under the impression I’m offering because I think you can’t cope?”

  “Well, um…”

  “Megan, I’d like to spend some more time with you. If that’s okay with you.”

  She pressed her lips together. It would probably be easier if they said goodbye now. But suddenly she didn’t want him to go. Finding him on the bridge had been the best thing that had happened to her since parting with Cody, and she wanted to hang onto that pleasurable feeling a while longer.

  “Please?” he prompted, and to her surprise, he held out his hand.

  She smiled slowly. “Okay.” And she slipped her hand into his.

  He squeezed it. “Come on then. Let’s spend all our holiday money.”

  So for the next few hours they wandered around the stalls that sold all kinds of handcrafted Czech products, from wooden toys to Bohemian Crystal, jewellery to embroidery, scented candles to hats, gloves and scarves.

  Dion bought her a pair of gloves and made her put them on. So she bought him a red scarf, wound it around his neck and tucked it into his coat. They bought bags of gifts for their families, treats for themselves, tried a hot, sugary pastry called Trdelník, and cups of svařák hot wine to beat the cold.

  It started snowing again, and when the Christmas tree lights came on at five o’clock, Megan gasped. All the buildings around the square glowed golden with light, and the Gothic-style St. Vitus Cathedral looked like something out of a Disney movie.

  They walked along to Wenceslas Square, which was more like a boulevard really, the trees lining the street hung with twinkling lights, and Dion asked a passer-by to take a photo of them with his phone by the statue of good King Wenceslas. Then he walked her to her hotel.

  Megan stopped outside and tucked her hands in her pockets. “This is it.”

  “Looks nice,” he said, observing the ornate frontage.

  “It’s lovely. A great place to celebrate.” She pulled a face. “I now have to sit through a romantic three course meal on my own.”

  “What sort of gentleman would I be if I didn’t offer to accompany you?” he teased.

  She blinked. She really hadn’t been hinting—crap, now he felt he had to offer to join her.

  He scratched the back of his neck. “Shit, that was a bit presumptuous.”

  She laughed. “No, it’s not that. I know you have the big meeting tomorrow. You’ve got a lot on your mind.”

  “Meh,” he shrugged and smiled. “I still need to eat.”

  “True.” She met his gaze. The magic of the afternoon didn’t appear to be showing any sign of wearing off. She’d had such a lovely time. The fact that they were old friends gave them an easy familiarity with each other, but she couldn’t erase from her mind the fact that he was a man, and a gorgeous one at that.

  “Have dinner with me,” he murmured, his eyes warm.

  “Okay.” She took his hand and let him lead her into the hotel.

  Chapter Nine

  Megan thought she’d possibly never spent a more pleasant couple of hours. They took their time with the dinner, sampling all the courses and talking continually. Sometimes they talked about the old days, remembering places they’d been and times they’d spent together, laughing about the time Sean had fallen off the fishing boat and they hadn’t noticed for five minutes, and discussing old friends they’d both known.

  At other times they spoke about their present lives. She told him about her art and how much she enjoyed finding success with her painting. He told her more about his hopes and dreams for the company, glowing with enthusiasm as he described the projects he had planned.

  His work was his life, she thought as they ate their dessert. Poor Lauren, she hadn’t stood a chance. Maybe in five or six years’ time, when he’d achieved what he wanted at work and felt the need for something more in his life, he might be ready for a serious relationship. But clearly, at the moment he didn’t want the complication.

  His voice tailed off, and she realised she’d been staring at him for the past few minutes as he talked about the upcoming takeover.

  “I’m going on a bit, aren’t I?” He finished his dessert and reached for his glass. “Sorry.”

  “No, no, I’m sorry, I was just thinking…” She let her gaze trail down him. There were several log fires in the restaurant, and he’d taken off his jacket and sat now in his white shirt and dark grey waistcoat and pants. He looked tastier than the chocolate gateaux on her plate, and that was saying something.

  “What were you thinking?” he prompted.

  She’d drunk far too much. She didn’t feel drunk as such, but a boldness surged through her that she knew must be due to the alcohol, because she would normally have never made a comment such as the one that hovered on her lips.

  “I was wondering how many women you’d been with,” she said.

  His eyebrows disappeared into his fringe. “Wow.” His eyes gleamed and a smile tugged at his lips. “I did not expect you to ask that.”

  “Sorry. I just…I’m stunned you’re single, that’s all. You’re gorgeous. I know you don’t want anything serious, but I can’t imagine you going without sex for any length of time.”

  The smile turned into a grin. “I do rather like it.”

  “I guessed you would.” And I bet you’re pretty good at it, too.

  “And what about you?” He finished off his wine, put down his glass and studied her. “Do you like it?”

  Her face glowed. She dropped her gaze and looked into her wine glass. “Yes. I mean, what I’ve tried, I liked. But I feel like I’m talking to someone who owns an ice-cream factory. I’m sure you’ve tried a thousand flavours, and I’ve only ever tried…”

  “Vanilla?” He chuckled.

  “Yeah.” She sipped her wine, her gaze meeting his. Throughout the evening, they’d steered the conversation away from anything too intimate, but for the first time desire simmered in his eyes.

  “So Cody wasn’t a Casanova then?” he said.

  “Not with me,” she said sadly.

  A frown flickered across Dion’s brow at the intimation that Cody had obviously acted differently with the bimbo. “Fucking idiot,” he said.

  She smiled wryly, liking the fact that he didn’t understand Cody’s lack of interest in her. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, for a while I thought it was me, that I wasn’t attractive or sexy enough, you know?”

  Now he frowned. “Megan, seriously?”

  “Well, it was a natural progression,” she explained. “We always got on well, but we never sparked, like couples in the movies do. Plus, sometimes, I think my disorder embarrassed him.” He’d tried to be patient with her, but hadn’t understood, implying that he thought she put it on. And of course the fear of having an attack and embarrassing him had only increased their frequency and severity. She hadn’t told Dion that her phobia had been worse the last six months because of how Cody had made her feel.

  Dion was glaring now though, so she changed the subject. “Anyway, that’s all done. And I’m glad we’ve broken up. It upset me at first, but now I feel better in many ways.” Although her feelings of inadequacy hadn’t helped initially, she’d gradually got more control over her attacks.

  “So things weren’t great in bed?” he prompted.

  She sighed.
“No. I started to wonder if there was something wrong with me. I just never…um…” Her cheeks grew warm. She’d never really talked about this to anyone, but Dion had had girlfriends, probably lots of them, and she knew he might be able to explain things from Cody’s point of view. “He never seemed fired up, not like with the bimbo. I assumed it was my fault.”

  Dion twisted his glass in his fingers. “Honey, I can safely say it was absolutely not your fault.”

  “Really?” She knew she sounded pathetic, but her need for consolation overrode her wish to appear sassy.

  His eyes were dark, the pupils dilated to almost encompass his irises. “Any man who isn’t fired up by just the thought of having sex with you has to have something seriously wrong with him.”

  By the heat in her cheeks, she knew she’d turned scarlet. Dion didn’t look away though, his intense, firm gaze insisting he spoke the truth.

  “Did he turn you on?” he murmured.

  “Sometimes. Kind of.” She moved the salt and pepper pots around on the table. “I wouldn’t say we had fireworks exactly. I don’t think I was his type, and I’m not sure he was mine. I can’t imagine what it must be like to…have sex with someone you really, really like in that way.” She glanced back up at him.

  His gaze rested on her lips. Automatically she moistened them with the tip of her tongue, and a corner of his mouth curved, his eyes coming back to hers.

  It was obvious where this was going. They’d been heading in this direction from the moment he kissed her on the bridge—maybe even from the moment he kissed her that midwinter night.

  She wanted him. She’d wanted him since even before she knew what it meant, and that longing, that yearning, had never disappeared. And now, with him sitting before her looking so gorgeous in his waistcoat, his hazel eyes interested, she wanted him so much it made her ache.

  It could never be anything serious. And that was okay. She was well aware they only had this one night.

  He tipped his head, studying her. “So have you ever met anyone you really, really like in that way?”

  When she spoke, her voice was little more than a whisper. “Yes.”

  His eyes darkened and he went to say something, but once again they were interrupted by a waiter who asked if they wanted coffee. Megan shook her head, and Dion declined too.

  She looked out of the window at the sparkling lights of the street. The restaurant wasn’t noisy and the classical piano music had been romantic, but suddenly she wanted the peace and quiet of the city—she needed time to think. “It’s snowing again. You want to go for a walk?”

  “Sure.”

  So they grabbed their coats and left the hotel, heading toward the Charles Bridge once again. Dion tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and pulled up his scarf. The cold turned her nose to ice, but Megan glowed from the inside out.

  They didn’t mention what they’d been talking about and chatted instead about insignificant things, about music and movies, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. But all the while, her heart pounded at the thought of what she hoped would happen.

  They reached the bridge and walked slowly along, entranced by the old-fashioned lamps that highlighted the flakes of snow floating around them.

  About halfway down, they stopped and leaned on the wall, looking at the river. The sparkling lights reflected on the surface as if an underwater city also celebrated the festive season.

  Dion fell quiet, and Megan said nothing, observing the way her breath misted before her face. There were a few other people on the bridge walking in the snow, and further along a man in a black tux was playing the violin, the hat at his feet filled with coins. Jeez, he must be cold, she thought. But the music was beautiful, haunting. The whole moment was magical, and when she turned her head to see Dion watching her, she caught her breath at the look in his eyes.

  They straightened and turned to face each other, only inches apart, their hands in their pockets. Although she wore boots with a two-inch heel, he topped her by a few inches, and she had to look up to meet his gaze.

  “Megan,” he said quietly, his voice as soft as the snowflakes landing on his hair.

  She swallowed, excited and nervous, her gaze resting on his mouth.

  He lowered his head a little, his lips almost brushing hers, but not quite. Her heart thumped so loud she was sure he must be able to hear it.

  They waited a moment, like two figures on top of a wedding cake, the violin serenading them in the background.

  And then Dion lifted his head. Biting the inside of his lip, he looked away, across the river, and gave a deep sigh.

  Shit, she thought, only just managing not to swear out loud. He was going to be all noble.

  What a pain in the ass.

  Chapter Ten

  Dion watched the snow disappearing into the black river, his thoughts and emotions churning as much as the water beneath the bridge.

  “Dion?” Megan spoke softly, but for a moment he didn’t look at her, knowing it would be more difficult to control his feelings if he did.

  She slipped her hand against his cheek, though, and gently turned him to look at her. “What’s the matter?”

  He studied her face, speechless. She was so beautiful. He’d struggled all evening against his desire. He’d tried so hard to keep the conversation from turning intimate, but time and again she’d brought his mind around to thoughts of sex.

  He was torn between memories of her as a fifteen-year-old, some of her gestures and comments reminding him of the innocent girl she’d been, but then her eyes would light with desire, and he’d remember she was now a grown woman.

  When they were young, he’d been aware that she liked him. He knew by the way she’d blushed when he spoke to her, and occasionally the way she’d stare if he walked out of his room without a shirt, although she’d always hid it behind smart comments and attitude. But now the open passion in her eyes fired all his senses.

  She wanted him—that much was clear. And Christ, he wanted her too. He’d remembered her as having few curves, but when she’d removed her coat she went in and out in all the right places, with an impressive cleavage that he had to struggle not to stare at. She had an endearing, sexy giggle and a way of biting her lip that made him want to lean forward and kiss her. He’d had to struggle with an erection for half the evening. And now she was practically throwing herself at him.

  “What’s the matter?” she repeated calmly. How could she be so calm?

  “I should go,” he said.

  “Why?” She blinked, her beautiful green eyes wide and questioning, her hand still cupping his face.

  He swallowed. “Because you’re Sean’s sister.”

  Impatience crossed her features. “Dion, I’m twenty-three. I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”

  “Because you’re on the rebound, then.”

  She paused. “That’s true,” she said slowly. Her thumb brushed the stubble on his cheek. “I’ve recently broke up with my fiancé. And I’m lonely—I’m happy to admit that. If it had been anyone else on the bridge, it wouldn’t have mattered. But it wasn’t anyone else—it was you. I’ve wanted you for…” She laughed. “Forever. If you don’t want me, that’s fine, for Christ’s sake don’t say yes to make me feel better. But if you do want me…don’t make excuses.” Her voice turned husky and she met his gaze, her eyes dark with passion. “Come back to the hotel with me.”

  Still he hesitated. “You know how I feel about you. You’ve haunted me for years. But my world’s already full to bursting. There’s no room for a relationship.”

  “I’m not asking for a relationship.”

  “You don’t deserve any less, honey.” He meant it, and he didn’t want to use her. He could have strangled Cody, the stupid bastard, for making her feel unattractive and at fault for their relationship failing. She deserved the whole package—husband, two-point-four kids, house in the suburbs, everything. But he wasn’t ready. And he couldn’t expect her to wait.

&nb
sp; She continued to brush his cheek. “In an alternate universe, maybe we would have had that. But we’re in this universe, Dion. You have your business—I understand that. I’m not expecting anything except this one night. It’s like…” she hesitated. “It feels like fate. I mean, of all the people to find me on this bridge… We live on opposite sides of the world. Was it really coincidence? It’s like we were supposed to find each other, maybe to make up for whatever destiny we weren’t able to fulfil back in New Zealand.”

  She stopped then, and humour lit her features. “I think I’m tipsy. Forget all that romantic crap. What I really want to know is…” Her gaze rested on his mouth, then lifted to his. Desire and mischievousness filled her eyes. “Do you want to come back to my hotel and have wild monkey sex with me?”

  That made him laugh. Jeez, what was he worried about? She wanted him, and he wanted her—why make it more complicated? As a grown woman, she didn’t have to answer to her brother or father anymore. And so what if she was on the rebound—after what she’d been through she’d naturally be yearning for a man to prove she was desirable. He was more than happy to step into the role and show her how much he wanted her.

  He put his arms around her and pulled her tight against him. “Monkey sex?” he queried, amused.

  “I have no idea what that is, but I want it.”

  “No vanilla?”

  Her eyes danced. “No vanilla.”

  “What I want to know is, what do I do with the peanuts?”

  She giggled, which did funny things to his body and made him tingle all over. “I have some ideas.”

  “Like?” He nuzzled her ear.

  Her breathing came quickly, and her pulse raced under his tongue as he touched it to her throat.

  “For one night, I want everything.” She turned her head so her lips brushed his. “A hundred percent of you. I want to know what it feels like. To have…everything.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that.” Bold now he’d made the decision, he let his passion show in his gaze. His lips hovered over hers, blood surging through his body at the thought of getting her into bed. “If I’m going to finally get my hands on you, I’m not going to hold back.”