Unlikely in Love

by Susan Mac Nicol

  He grinned at me and I wanted to rush him, wrap my legs around his waist and never let him go. Instead, I turned and sat down before my trembling legs gave out. I had a reputation to maintain. And a secret to confess.

  “Oh, and I’m sorry I set fire to your waste bin yesterday,” I muttered. “I truly had no idea my incense was still burning when I threw it in there. My bin was in the kitchen. It needed washing. Yours was the closest.”

  I didn’t need to see Gus’s face to know he was laughing when he answered.

  “Who else would it have been?” he said. “Do I need to take out company hazard pay when I go out with you?”

  I huffed, flicking my hair back from my forehead. “Puhleaze. It’d be worth every penny, I promise.”

  Behind me, Gus’s cologne invaded my nostrils and I closed my eyes, inhaling his scent.

  Something soft brushed the top of my head. Oh god, he was kissing my hair.

  “I have no doubt,” he whispered. “And perhaps, when we know each other a bit better, I’ll get out my guitar and serenade you. I heard your big sigh when you were writing your reply. I thought that might be why.”

  Turning, I looked into his expressive eyes and batted my lashes. “Bring it on,” I murmured. “I look forward to your A-game.”

  Gus’s eyes darkened and a smile flitted across his full lips.

  “You’re on. Let the games begin.”

  ****

  Two years on and we’re still playing games. Gus has this unfair advantage—he’s amazing. He’s my soul mate and the man who I want to spend the rest of my life with.

  Of course, he’s still accident prone where I’m concerned. Okay, I cause the accidents, but I never admit it. The universe has this quirk and it plays havoc with our lives. It’s been nothing serious. Gus simply laughs and says it’s the price for loving me.

  God only knows what’s going to happen at the wedding. Becca says she’ll have her video camera ready for whatever. The office has a bet on that something will befall us before we say the words “I do.”

  I hope the gremlin stays away and I’m able to tell my man how much I adore him without setting him on fire, shocking him or accidentally knocking him face-first into the cake.

  As for the honeymoon—we’re going to El Salvador.

  What can possibly go wrong there?

  The End

  Banana Appeal

  Life takes a funny turn sometimes. Here I was, holding a huge banana, standing in the corridor of my building with a severe case of tousled hair, and clad in nothing but a pair of skimpy Superman undies a size too small. Opposite me, my flatmate (who was my current man-crush) stared at me with something that looked akin to an overwhelming desire to laugh and keep his face straight at the same time. It was a strange expression, as if something moved beneath his facial skin and he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it.

  My flatmate and I shared this hallway, each of us occupying one of the two small flats in a block above a beauty salon.

  “Hi,” I chirruped brightly. I lowered the banana to my side, trying to make it less obvious than standing there holding what could be perceived as a yellow dildo. “I didn’t expect to see you today. I thought you’d gone out or flown away to yet another exotic destination.” I couldn’t keep the yearning out of my voice. I loved travelling, but funds, alas, were not flush enough to enable it often.

  Robbie, however, worked as a consultant at the local travel agency and was away a lot.

  He nodded, the smirk not far from the surface of his lightly tanned and handsome face. “So I see. Is this something you do often then when I’m away? Run down corridors in your undies to throw out the evidence?”

  My face flamed. I was used to being the flaming one usually—plus it went with my strawberry blond hair—but this time, my skin could have lit the beacon for a spaceship to the moon. “Evidence of what?”

  He raised one eyebrow suggestively and I took a step forward, brandishing the banana toward him as if entreating him to eat it. Robbie took a step back, a wary look crossing his face. I wondered whether he’d expected me to ask him to fellate it. Because that would have been a complete waste when my dick was willing to be wrapped between those full lips. The banana didn’t stand a fucking chance if I got in there first.

  “Oh god, no,” I spluttered, gripping the banana so tightly I wondered if it would shoot out of its skin like a rocket and blast off to god knows where, like ejaculating spunk. “I haven’t been using this, you know, to do that. Lord, no, that’s what cucumbers are for, you know. A bit firmer, ha-ha.”

  Robbie’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped open—just a little bit. My face flame turned into a full-out bonfire. My lame joke had backfired spectacularly.

  “I was joking, honest. I don’t use cucumbers either. Too cold. I buy my stuff at the usual shops, you know, like Love Honey and Toys for Boys? I don’t use fruit.”

  Robbie made a strangled sound and passed a hand over his eyes. Beautiful green eyes that sparkled and shone like the verdant Amazon rainforest. Eyes that peered out at me from beneath chocolate-brown bangs, covering honey-coloured skin that made me think of caramel. I thought I might be a little hungry, bearing in mind all the fanciful food references.

  Robbie looked good. He wore a tight-fit tomato-coloured t-shirt, with indigo jeans slung on his lean hips and tan boots. The whole package looked edible.

  “Cooper, are you okay? I mean, I can see you’re having,” he hesitated, “a little bit of an episode, and I’m used to them, but you’re now in the corridor virtually naked.” He gazed down the corridor uneasily. “I mean, I know we’re the only two flats on this floor, but the landlord has eyes everywhere. He might not take it as well as I do when you go off on one.”

  I blinked. “Go off on one? What are you talking about?” I felt a spurt of panic. Had he come across me on the roof play-sword fighting, or struggling to get out of a cage? Wrestling with an anaconda perhaps?

  Let me explain—I’m not crazy, I promise. I’m a graphic designer, and on the side, I have my own graphic novel range I was hoping to get published. Videoing myself doing these things gave me a sense of perspective when I drew the images for my stories. That subtle nuance of movement helped me make it real. All my novels involved a hunky male hero rescuing an unfortunate yet sexy victim who looked—no surprise here—a lot like me. It appeared I had the storybook hero-in-distress syndrome. I could give Disney a run for their money with my ideas.

  Robbie shifted from foot to foot. “Well, are you telling me that wasn’t you the other night dressed in a Batman cape chasing something down the hall? I think it might have been a mouse the way you were squealing. Then there was the foul smell the other night from down there”—he waved to the end of the corridor where there was a small janitorial cupboard— “with some weird noises, like fizzing emanating from behind the door.” His eyes darkened. “And a couple of months ago, wasn’t it you who had that unfortunate experience with the fake tan spray booth in the salon downstairs and ended up all orange? I thought an Oompa Loompa had gotten loose in the building.”

  Please let the floor open and swallow me whole.

  I gulped. “It wasn’t a mouse, it was the damn gecko I’m babysitting for someone. She got out and I went after it. I couldn’t find her, and my friend would have killed me if anything bad happened. Which it did, of course, because she got lost. The gecko I mean, not my friend. Well, she didn’t get lost, I lost her, but it’s technically the same thing…” I trailed off. Robbie’s eyes had glazed over, but there was something else in them. A heated hunger that made my insides quail.

  I carried on lamely, trying to ignore the slow inflating of my Superman skivvies. I could hold the banana across there, but that might look really dirty, even like an invitation. Which, while it would be welcome, wasn’t what I wanted to go for right now in the hallway. I had a bit more class than an open invitation for someone to go down on me in a corridor.

  “Someone told me if I made a cocktail w
ith liquid gecko food and calcium powder, she’d be drawn to it when she got hungry.” I grimaced. “Unfortunately, I used baking soda instead of the calcium and that started fizzing so I had to remove it before it killed her. I’d never been able to explain lizard homicide to Lily. She’d kill me herself if anything happened to Suzy.”

  “Suzy?” Robbie said faintly. His hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides and he looked as if he needed a stiff drink.

  “The gecko.” I clarified. “Suzy Quattro is her full name.”

  “Of course it is.” Robbie moved closer. “You still haven’t explained the Batman cape. Or the banana. Or turning orange.” He grinned and my heart melted. “You seem to have unfortunate fruit-related accidents.”

  I huffed. “The tanning booth was an accident, pure and simple.” The beauty salon was run by two young ladies who found me cute and they allowed me a couple of free treatments each month. I wasn’t above capitalizing on my twink status when it involved freebies. “I was going away for the weekend to Rome with friends and I didn’t want to be pasty white. It wasn’t my fault the damn booth malfunctioned and squirted liberal doses of fake tan all over me. I tried to get out, but those damn booths are shut so tightly it was a while before they could get to me.” I scowled. “However, as an apology, I now get free lifetime treatments of facials and manicures. If you’re interested, I can hook you up, no doubt.” I smirked, loving my power over Vera and Leslie. They’d been so mortified over the tanning incident I probably could have asked for more. But I wasn’t a greedy person.

  Robbie’s eyes were shining and he was holding a hand over his mouth as if worried he had spinach in his teeth. “So we’re left with the cape, the hero briefs, and that damn banana,” he prompted, the words obscured by his long fingers. Fingers that looked as if they should be playing the piano in some quiet backstreet bar. I’d be mooning around, serving drinks, playing my part as the tortured bartender lusting after the talented musician. Unrequited love was a popular theme in my novels.

  I drew myself up haughtily, trying to be dignified, which was quite a feat given my current state of attire. Or lack of it. I still clutched that damn banana.

  I rolled my eyes. “When Suzy disappeared, I’d been seeing how the cloak flowed around my body when I swirled. I needed to swish. I videoed myself so I can draw the action sequences. Then the stupid girl did her whole escape thing and I went after her. I forgot I was wearing the cloak.”

  He cleared his throat, his face alight with amusement. He really was gorgeous.

  “It all makes perfect sense now,” Robbie said solemnly. “You have this knack of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  I frowned at that. I hadn’t thought of it that way before. “This”—I waggled the banana— “was my ultrasonic laser taser earlier. I was using it to vanquish the villain, a man with the ability to shapeshift into a piece of furniture.”

  “A furniture shapeshifter?” Robbie stared at me incredulously.

  “Yes. I mean, imagine a villain who can morph into furniture. I call him Furnman.”

  I noticed Robbie’s eyes widen and hastily reassured him. “It’s a work in progress, but I rather like the name. You’d never notice him there, or suspect he was in the room. We’re all used to it just being there.” I got passionate because I thought it was a great idea. “I mean if you were Furnman, you could be anything you wanted to. A chair, a lamp, a table. The possibilities to spy and sneak into places are endless.”

  Robbie seemed to be having trouble breathing and I wondered if I needed to do CPR. Because I could so manage that. All night.

  “And I haven’t done laundry yet, and these were all I had after I got out the shower. They were ones my sister bought me years ago.”

  Ten years, in fact, when I was thirteen, but who’s counting?

  “I’ve grown a bit since then.” I sniffed.

  Robbie chuckled. When he spoke, it was in a husky, strangled tone that made me shiver with delight. “I’m delighted to hear it. So what are you doing in the corridor now dressed like that?”

  His words filtered through to my brain and I stared at him, dawning panic flooding my body. “Oh shit. Suzy. She ran out again when I hit the door handle during one of my stun-gun action sequences and she skedaddled. I hadn’t gotten dressed yet, and I was trying to catch her.” I gazed around me in terror. “Fuck, Lily is so going to kill me.”

  Robbie grinned. “I think I know where she is. Something whizzed past me into my flat. I have a feeling we’ll find her there.”

  Relief made me weak. “Oh thank god. Let me get dressed and I’ll come along and look for her—if you don’t mind me coming in?”

  Robbie stepped up closer and all I could do was stare at his plump, luscious lips only a couple of inches from mine. Those curved bow shapes drew me in like a bee to honey.

  “Firstly,” he murmured softly, his eyes stormy, “I think you swish just perfectly. Secondly, I like your current look. It’s very alluring.”

  I remembered to breathe so I took a deep one. My dick was gaining momentum down below and Superman was rapidly becoming the Incredibly Swelling Hulk.

  “Thirdly,” Robbie went on, fingers trailing across my jawline, causing me to forget to breathe—again, “I’ve been trying to get to speak to you for ages, but we never seemed to get the opportunity.” His breath wafted over my face, smelling like spearmint and cherry. “I really like you. And I think you might like me, too, so I’d suggest we find Suzy, get her safe, and then I’ll take you out to dinner and we see what happens. And I have to confess I’m really partial to fruit. What do you say?”

  He didn’t even wait for my reply, simply slanted his perfect mouth over mine and took me to a place I’d never been before. Robbie was warmth and sexiness and masculinity personified, and when he released my mouth from its heavenly prison, I could tell he was as turned on I was.

  “I like fruit,” I said dreamily. “And yes, to all of the stuff you said.”

  He laughed loudly and swatted my Superman-covered ass. I swooned. “Then off with you and get dressed before Mr Vivaldi comes up with the police.” Mr Vivaldi was the landlord. “I’ll see you at my place once you’re done. I’ll try to track Suzy down meanwhile.”

  He flashed a blinding grin at me. “See you later, Cooper. I look forward to learning more about you.”

  ****

  Robbie learned more about me than he’d ever wanted to know. In the five years we’ve been together the man has shown the patience of a saint. He’s been pissed on by llamas, spent the night in a cave hiding from bats, and had to dance the Macarena on a stage in Indonesia as a tribute to a pissed-off volcano god.

  Those are all stories for another time. Suffice it to say, my husband and I have travelled, had our ups and downs, but we always end up together and stronger than before. Oh, and in my latest published graphic novel, Furnman bears an uncanny resemblance to that cute, sexy and understanding man I met all those years ago. Robbie will tell you it’s a coincidence, but secretly, he’s pleased he’s been turned into furniture and immortalised in print.

  Sometimes all it takes is one chance meeting when you’re in your underwear clutching a banana.

  The End

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Susan Mac Nicol is a self-confessed bookaholic, an avid watcher of videos of sexy pole-dancing men, a self-confessed geek and nerd, and in love with her Smartphone. This little treasure is called ‘the boyfriend’ by her longsuffering husband, who says if it vibrated there’d be no need for him. Susan hasn’t had the heart to tell him there’s an app for that.

  A lover of walks in the forest, theatre productions, dabbling her toes in the cold North Sea and the vibrant city of London where you can experience all four seasons in a day, she is a hater of pantomime (please don’t tar and feather her), duplicitous people, bigotry and self-righteous idiots. She likes to think of herself as a ‘half full’ kind of gal, although sometimes that philosophy is sorely tested.

 
In an ideal world, Susan Mac Nicol would be Queen of England and banish all the bad people to the Never Never Lands of Wherever-Who Cares. As that’s not going to happen, she contents herself with writing her HEA stories and pretending that, just for a little while, good things happen to good people.

  CONNECT WITH SUSAN

  Interested in reading more of my books featuring men who make you swoon, steamy scenes and an engrossing relationship story? If you sign up for my newsletter at www.susanmacnicol.net, I’ll send you a complimentary copy of one of my standalone titles, or perhaps the first book in my Men of London series, Love You Senseless. I don’t do too many newsletters, so it’s a low volume list. You have no obligation to buy anything, and you can of course unsubscribe at any time.

  ALSO BY SUSAN MAC NICOL

  THE MEN OF LONDON SERIES

  Love You Senseless

  Sight & Sinners

  Suit Yourself

  Feat of Clay

  Cross to Bare

  Flying Solo

  Damaged Goods

  Hard Climate

  THE STARLIGHT SERIES

  Cassandra by Starlight

  Together in Starlight

  OTHER TITLES

  Stripped Bare

  Saving Alexander

  Worth Keeping

  Double Alchemy

  Double Alchemy: Climax

  Love and Punishment

  Sight Unseen

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