by Heidi Rice
Remember that the following morning you woke up alone, riddled with guilt and self-disgust, and then, burning with mortification and remorse, had to creep out of the house making sure you weren’t seen.
Most of all, though, focus on the misery he’s inflicted on your best friend, because that’s why you’re here.
The steps stopped and Mercy set her jaw. The handle turned and she straightened her spine. So when the door swung open she was more than braced for the sight of him, standing there and filling the space, tall, lean and still so darkly, staggeringly handsome he’d rob her of her wits again if she let him.
But there was no danger of that, she assured herself, sweeping her gaze up and over a chest that appeared to have broadened since she’d last seen him, letting it linger for a moment on the still sexy scar at the corner of his mouth and then looking up into eyes so deep and dark you could drown in them.
She was older. Wiser. No longer a hormonal sixteen-year-old with a crush, nor an impressionable twenty-one year old with good intentions but weak willpower. No. She’d gotten over her ridiculously ill-judged obsession with him years ago. She’d moved so far on she could hardly remember where she’d started. She was now confident, successful, mature.
And above all, immune.
“Hello,” she said, and cleared her throat which had strangely gone all rough.
“Mercedes,” said Seb.
A shiver rippled down her spine that obviously came from a draft and had nothing to do with the sound of his sexy cut-glass British accent and she blinked because she really hadn’t expected recognition. “You remember me?”
“Of course,” he said, his dark, unfathomable gaze roaming slowly over her. “How are you?”
How was she?
Taken aback and tingly. That was how she was, now he asked. Getting hotter by the second. Sort of melting inside. Suddenly keenly aware of him and actually feeling a little woozy, because those eyes, that mouth, and his scent… Dios, his scent… It was still woody, still soapy, and still so deliciously intoxicating that she wanted to lean in, press up close and inhale. She wanted to touch him, kiss him, stroke him and lick him and –
Mercy froze.
What the hell was she thinking? What was she doing? Had she actually started moving?
No. Impossible. She was immune. Immune.
Blinking to clear the fog in her head and swallowing hard to get some moisture into her desperately dry mouth, she pulled herself together and made herself think of the skiing holiday she’d been on last year. Bariloche. August. That had been ass-freezingly mind-numbingly cold. There’d been blizzards. Relentless sub-zero blizzards.
“Fine,” she said, as the heat and the dizziness and the madness dissipated. “I’m fine. You?”
“Couldn’t be better. It’s good to see you.” Was it? Why? “How long have you been back in New York?”
“Four months.”
“Work?”
“A bit. Mostly, though, an MBA.”
His eyebrows rose. “What happened to making wine?”
“I’m taking a sabbatical.” And she was explaining this why? She wasn’t here for a catch-up or, heaven forbid, a trip down memory lane. She was here for Zel.
“So to what do I owe this pleasure?” said Seb, pulling her back on track.
“Zelda’s having a slumber party.”
His eyebrows rose. “Is she? She didn’t mention it.”
“We – her friends – are throwing it for her. It was a surprise. Are you going to put in an appearance?”
“Am I supposed to?”
Well, no, technically he wasn’t, but apparently Zel had invited him to dinner, an invitation he’d baldly declined. “She would appreciate it if you did.”
And wasn’t that the understatement of the century? Zel would kill for even a millisecond of her brother’s attention, would have done for years now, and still he withheld it. Deliberately, or simply out of habit, Mercy didn’t know, but either way it had cut far too deep for far too long.
“Given the way our last conversation went,” said Seb dryly, “I very much doubt that.”
Hmm. “You could always apologize.”
“I have nothing to apologize for.”
And Zel did? Mercy felt her indignation spike and then plummet because actually Seb might have a point there. By simply not showing up to that gala at which she was supposed to be representing the Madison family, maybe Zel did have something to apologize for, but still, that was over three weeks ago, and compared with his behavior towards his sister over the years and this evening in particular that misdemeanor was trifling. Trifling. Today’s New Word of the Day, and a good one. “Don’t you think it would be at least polite to come and say hello?”
“I’ve been busy,” said Seb, his jaw tightening a fraction.
“Of course you have.”
His eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“From what she’s said, it sounds like you always come up with some excuse to avoid her. Work. Travel. Pencils to sharpen. It’s a wonder she still cares.”
“I’ve never asked her to,” he said. “And I’d rather she didn’t.”
“She does nevertheless. She’s never stopped.”
“More fool her.”
“My thoughts exactly,” said Mercy a bit hotly. “But you’re all the family she has and apparently lousy family is better than none.”
Seb’s jaw clenched at that, the something in his eyes flickered again, and for the briefest of moments she wondered if she’d pushed him too far. If maybe she’d hurt him. But no. She hadn’t. She couldn’t. No one could. He was like granite: hard, unfeeling and utterly unassailable.
“If my company is so abhorrent,” he said so flatly that she thought she must have imagined the flare of emotion, “then why are you at my door?”
“I want to talk to you.”
“I don’t do talking.”
“I’m well aware of that,” said Mercy, determinedly ignoring the memories of exactly how far he’d go to avoid it. “However, this time you have no choice.”
He sighed with what sounded like exasperation. “Oh, go away, Mercedes.”
What? Oh no. Not a chance. She wasn’t going anywhere. So she pulled her shoulders back and tilted her head in challenge. “Are you really so afraid of what I have to say?”
“Of course not.”
“Then prove it.”
Find out what happens next in Taming the Beast
Buy now!
If you enjoyed Tempting the Knight, you’ll love the other Fairy Tales of New York stories!
The Fairy Tales of New York Series
Book 1: Pursued by the Rogue by Kelly Hunter
Book 2: Tempting the Knight by Heidi Rice
Book 3: Taming the Beast by Lucy King
Book 4: Seduced by the Baron by Amy Andrews
About the Author
USA Today Bestselling and RITA-nominated author Heidi Rice is married with two sons (which gives her rather too much of an insight into the male psyche). She also works as a film journalist and was born in Notting Hill in West London (before it became as chi-chi as it is in the film starring Hugh Grant). She now lives in Islington in North London – a stone’s throw away from where they shot Four Weddings and a Funeral… (She has asked Hugh to stop stalking her, but will he listen?!)
She loves her job because it involves sitting down at her computer each day and getting swept up in a world of high emotions, sensual excitement, funny feisty women, sexy tortured men and glamorous locations where laundry doesn’t exist … Not bad, eh.
More from Heidi:
Visit her website Heidi-Rice.com
Check out her blog
Follow her on Twiter@HeidiRomRice
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