Bargain in Bronze (10 page)

“
Hamlet
, yes,” he confirmed, smiling as he moved to reclaim the seat beside her. “Doesn’t everyone?”

No. Not at all. She sat upright and tightly crossed her legs, gripping her upper thighs to still the rush of wet heat there. “Not everyone remembers that bit.”

“You do.” He laughed again—that warm, sexy, infectious sound. “Do you have other good quotes memorized?”

She turned to meet his gaze. His eyes gleamed like silver fire and oh boy, was she in trouble. He was gorgeous enough already—but that he could hold his own in the nerdy Shakespearean stakes?

“A few.” She answered audibly enough, but inside she was stunned at the flare emanating from him and ridiculously elated at their shared Shakespearean flirt.

Only then the train slowed—coming into her station. She stoutly took the blow. Of course, this would come to an end—only a passing meeting. Of course this was nothing.

She stood, but as the train shuddered to a halt, she swayed and quickly grabbed hold of the safety straps above her—no doubt giving him an eyeful of her tight, turned-on breasts. Damn instinctive body language, she might as well have all out preened. Still, all she could do now was attempt a sophisticated goodbye—not try to prolong the encounter, no, that would be desperate.

“I hope your evening goes better than you expect.” She walked to the door, conscious her hips were rolling with a hint of swagger but powerless to control it.

“Thanks,” he called after her. “You too.”

Nina smiled as she left the train, her battered ego boosted higher than it had been in months. She didn’t turn to see if he’d gotten off too. Single and staying that way, right? She’d had a second of flirt—one she’d never have expected, certainly not with him. She’d even managed a sassy goodbye. But a contrary flicker of disappointment snipped at her uplifted spirit, because all it had been—all it would ever be—was a moment.

…

Eduardo Ruiz suppressed the twitch in his muscles, forcing himself to walk slowly. Thank God the car hadn’t come for him today. Instead, he’d had the most fun in ages with the pretty brunette with a shockingly tuneless singing voice. Heaven knew he needed some light relief and now she was walking right in front of him. As he tracked her progress, heat spread though his stomach, softening the stone-cold sensation pressing deep in his gut. Eye-candy didn’t usually ease that familiar ache, but this particular woman had the one thing slipping from Eduardo’s sphere—vitality.

The first time he’d seen her she’d been almost bouncing along the street, an effervescent smile lighting up her whole face—relentlessly drawing an answering smile from anyone who looked. And Eduardo had looked. Then he’d climbed into the car and smiled, his spirit lifting despite the heartache of his destination. But he’d noticed her artless energy had become increasingly leashed over the past few days. That unconscious reflection of joy muted by something. Until today—when he’d had the sheer dumb luck to be stuck on the train with her and those crazy singers. And finally that energy had shone again—her sparkle had bubbled over.

He reined in his own explosion of energy in order to keep a few paces behind, watching the sideways rock of her hips and the peachy jut of her butt beneath that slim gray skirt. The heat in his veins scalded him from the inside out. His attention lowered to her legs—finally having enough time to give them a proper look. They were bare, lightly summer bronzed, long and trim with narrow ankles. He curled his fingers, instinctively trying to ease the sudden itch as fantasy slugged him. He’d wrap his hands round those ankles and pull—so her thighs would part and she’d wind those long limbs around his waist and he’d be right inside that vivacious fire.
Country matters
called loud and strong.

Si
, he was ogling and it was crass. It was also irresistible. Given where he was going now, and the dutiful torture he had to endure tonight, Eduardo needed a moment. So he was damn well going to enjoy it.

But after watching where she went, he lengthened his stride so he wouldn’t be any later than he already was. Out of the shopping mall and along the expensive dockside apartments—homes to men and women every bit as workaholic as he.

The evening ahead was family business and he couldn’t escape it. Nor could he escape the fact that he had no time to put into anything other than work this week, next week or even the next year. Exactly how he liked it. There was no room for the relationship he’d foolishly invented in a flippant moment over the phone. No room for
any
kind of relationship—fictional or otherwise. He didn’t have the time or the heart to give.

But that pretty Canadian was leaving—off for an adventure. Therefore
not
looking for a relationship—not a week out from departure. Now temptation gnawed. The maddest of ideas tickled as urges drove his body. All he could hear was her low laughter as she’d quoted Shakespeare’s bawdy bits. He wanted her at his table. Honestly? He wanted her in his bed.

That was the only way his night was going to go better.

A preview of
GAMBLE IN GOLD
, the third novella in the
FLIRTING TO WIN
trilogy!

Chapter One

“I’ll only be a minute, sweetheart,” Lexie Peterson called back to the whimpering dog lying in the middle of the massive bed.

With a laugh, she headed down the hall to the gleaming fridge in the luxury kitchen. She’d never have picked Luke Marchetti to own such a pathetic excuse for a pooch. Sure the thing was cute, but it was so not Luke. And what kind of a name for a dog was
Mango
? And how on earth could Dani’s stepdaughter be afraid of a dog smaller than the average cat and burdened with a snuffle instead of a bark?

Not that Lexie was going to argue with Dani. Lexie had landed in London three days ago with no money, no job, and nowhere to stay. Her best friend—and Luke’s sister—had handed her Mango and the keys to Luke’s apartment. Lexie had resisted until Dani assured her that Luke was out of town for the month and his serviced apartment was empty. Given that poor Mango had gone on a hunger strike at the kennel where Luke had dumped him, and that Dani’s four-year-old stepdaughter was paralytically afraid of any kind of hound (even uber-midget hounds like Mango), Lexie was really doing them all a huge favor by taking care of the critter while Luke was away. That way she could find a job and a flat, and frankly, a life. Dani always had all the answers.

So here Lexie was, in the lion’s den. The home of the one and only Luke Marchetti, her high school crush. Her first-ever crush. Now some superstar management consultant at one of those trendy global firms that only hired amazing graduates with extreme extracurricular success. Which pretty much described Luke to a tee. The guy didn’t just go for gold, he
was
gold. Even now he was off being awesome, doing something most mere mortals couldn’t ever manage—a marathon. But he wasn’t just running a marathon. He was blistering his feet to help someone else.

Lexie tried hard not to be all that impressed. She was determined that seven years had taken care of her crush. Seven years in which she’d not seen him, other than in the family pics Dani occasionally posted on Facebook. And Lexie absolutely did not scan each with microscopic care in case he featured in the background somewhere. But Fantasy Luke still made the occasional appearance in her dreams. She’d tried to ban him, telling herself he wasn’t worth the brain space. Or the angst. She’d had enough of that when she was a teen. Because Lexie knew that even the greatest people have some kind of weakness. And Luke Marchetti’s weakness was women. Lots and lots of women. Bluntly put, he was a super mega slut who would never settle down. In reality, Mr. Perfect was Mr. Playboy.

And worse? To him she’d always been—and doubtless always would be—the shy New Zealand exchange student who’d stayed with his family for six months all those years ago. And while he’d been driven in his achievements even back then, he’d also driven right over the hearts of several pretty young things just during her time there. Too charming and successful for his—or anyone else’s—good. The number of ex-flirts must be in the thousands by now. He had no clue the impact that summer in Boston had had on her. As far as Lexie was concerned, he never would.

As she poured some juice into a glass, she heard a faint noise. “I’m coming, Mr. Impatience!” she called to the dog. Honestly, the tiny thing had a huge attachment disorder, hating to be alone for even a second.

But then she heard another noise, far too big a thud for it to be Mango jumping off the bed. Fear crushed her lungs to quarter-size, making any kind of normal breathing impossible. She carefully put the glass on the bench. It was after 10:00 p.m. Not exactly time for visitors. She hadn’t left the front door open, had she? Surely she couldn’t have been that dumb? But she heard the thump again, and another. They were getting louder. Was someone in the flat?

Her heart thundering louder than a riled crowd at an All Blacks rugby game, Lexie went out into the hall.

Oh f—

Shock strangled her larynx, blocking the curse from escaping. Her eyes couldn’t be seeing right, but she couldn’t even blink to check. No way. He was supposed to be in Hertfordshire, not here. Definitely not here.
Hell
no.

Hell yes. Luke Marchetti stood in the hallway, frozen a few paces away, his head cocked to one side and his face pale—which was weird given he had a natural bronze complexion that she’d always envied. Was he unwell? Or was he just really shocked to see her?

“Lexie?!” He stared. His mouth was still ajar as his gaze slowly traveled down from her face to her—

Oh my effing G!

It was amazing the way her innards could shrivel yet her body remain standing. Because she was wearing…wearing…

Crap.
Not that much, actually. A negligee. A smooth, silky thing she’d put on in a fit of madness, deciding that an apartment this posh needed exquisite lace to go with it. There were no Fantasy Luke elements attached to how sensual it had made her feel. None at all. Anyway, Real Luke was frowning far too much, turning any remnant Fantasy Luke images to dust.

Silently he shifted his focus, looking over her shoulder along the hall toward the open bedroom door. That would be right. He
always
looked beyond her. Even when she was wearing an almost sheer scrap of silk and lace that barely covered her butt.

Could Mother Earth gobble her in a single bite now? Please?

Lexie watched his eyes widen, witnessing the moment aggression kicked in. She glanced at his curled fingers, looked back up to the flat line of his mouth and the even harder look in his eyes. Lexie had never seen him so rigid before, or his face so inexpressive. Hot pride burned brighter, masking her mortification. What was he doing back here anyway? He wasn’t supposed to be back for almost a month.

“Who are you here with, Lexie?”

She was so surprised she couldn’t speak. But damn it, she was not going to regress to shy and incomprehensible Lexie just because she was in his presence again. She was older, bolder, and totally could control her crippling nerves. Totally.

“Who were you talking to?” he asked.

But she was still dumbstruck and staring. Luke was also older and—impossibly—bolder. In black jeans and a V-necked black tee, he looked like a pirate. He’d filled out so fabulously. His wide shoulders pulled the worn shirt. It skimmed his frame, emphasizing solid muscles and a serious lack of fat. His head had been all but shaved—hell, the stubble on his chin was almost longer than that on his head. But it didn’t hide his razor-edged square jaw. She knew he’d gotten Olympics fit with all that training—literally—but it wasn’t like he’d ever had any softness to him. The only difference was that now his muscles bunched even tighter. Frankly, he was rocking a lean, mean Navy SEAL look, but more than that, Lexie knew he had endurance and mental toughness to top it off.

Right now he looked more than tough—he looked lethal. A six-foot-two block of muscle standing halfway down the hall. In one-to-one mortal combat Luke would always be the winner. And in slaying any woman who crossed his path? Well, Lexie was already lost.

“Who were you talking to?” he asked again in the face of her silence.

Lexie drew a breath and told herself to shape the hell up. She wasn’t seventeen anymore. “Your dog.”

He looked even more shocked than he had a second ago. “
Mannie
?”

She could understand the desire to abbreviate the mutt’s name. “Yeah.”

“There’s no one else here?”

“No.”

A smile suddenly creased his face, full of tease. “So you wear that to bed even when you’re sleeping alone?”

“Not alone,” she said defiantly. She was so not going to blush in front of him as she had so many times in the past, just because he’d been present. Certainly not now that he’d decided to turn some of the legendary charm on her. “With Mango.”

At that point her brief bit of moxie dissolved and she turned and zipped back into the kitchen, desperate to find something to cover herself with.

She heard a vague mutter behind her. It sounded suspiciously like “Lucky Mango.”

In the kitchen she frantically hunted around. Idiot. She should have gone to the bedroom for clothes but the kitchen had been the nearest doorway. A dishcloth wasn’t going to cover much. Then she spotted it—the apron hanging inside the pantry. Black, huge, and perfect. She wound the long ties around her, hoping the swathe of cloth covered her from all angles.

She turned around and caught him eyeing her butt. Perhaps not, then. This was going from worse to atrocious. Before, she would have bet he didn’t even know she had a butt. He was definitely aware now. Here she was in nothing but a nightie and there was skin to be seen. She didn’t trust him. Actually she didn’t really trust any guy. More than once she’d been the “challenge.” And once the challenge had been overcome, she’d been thrown over. Luke Marchetti had been the first to do that to her.

He’d broken her silly teen heart.

Now he was in position on the opposite side of the counter, as still as he’d been in the hall. But the frown was gone and a small smile played on his lips. She wasn’t sure she liked the flavor of that smile.

“Why is Mango here?” he asked. “Why are you here?”

Lexie picked up the glass she’d left on the bench and sipped, hoping the cool juice would calm her inner furnace. “Dani sent me. I arrived in London a couple of days ago. Apparently just in time to rescue Mango from his hunger strike at the kennels.”

Now the frown reappeared. “Why didn’t she call me?”

“Because you were too busy to be bothered with Mango’s antics. Dani told me you wouldn’t mind my staying here and helping out with him.”

He didn’t answer that. “So you’ve been here a couple of days already?”

“Yes.” Two nights in his bed already. And okay, Fantasy Luke might have returned from the past with a vengeance in her dreams these last couple of nights. But Fantasy Luke and Reality Luke were two very different men.

Reality Luke looked more than a little like he had feet of clay given the way he was struggling to keep his attention on her eyes and not stray farther south. Unbelievable, when he’d ignored her so easily in the past.

Irritated, she aimed to needle him. “What kind of person calls a dog Mango?”

“A C-list model overly influenced by A-list celebrities who name children after fruit,” he answered blithely.

Oh lord, that would be right. An ex-girlfriend. No doubt the poor dog had been a handbag filler. And the ex had left him with Luke? Lexie tried so hard not to laugh.

“I call him Mannie.” Luke said wryly. “Hardly butch though is he.”

“He’s a kitten. And you left him alone for all this time.”

“Not alone. At a very nice kennel. And he only lasted a little over a week.”

“He couldn’t handle it there.”

“It’s the most expensive kennel there is. There was even a webcam so I could watch him.”

“Which you didn’t,” she pointed out.

“I didn’t have time. And they called Dani instead of me anyways.” He pressed both hands down on the bench. The action made his forearms and biceps flex. “Had I known how great his distress was, of course I’d have come up with some solution.”

“So how come you’re home?” Lexie briefly looked away as she finally broached the question. “Dani said you were going to be away for a month.” Her focus darted back to him. “Did you forget something?” She nervously babbled as he started to watch her far too intently. “Are you going back to Hertfordshire tonight?”

He shook his head. “Not tonight.”

Not tonight? So where did that leave her then? Because as lovely as Luke’s apartment was, there was only one bedroom. Only one bed. A huge one, yes, but only the one and there was just no going there. Not with him. Not ever.

Trouble was, this was London during the summer of the world’s biggest sporting extravaganza. While there was some accommodation in town, you had to pay kabillions for it. Lexie didn’t have kabillions.

She’d figure out something.
Anything
. “Oh. Okay. Well, now that you’re back to see to Mango, I’ll just get my stuff and—”

“You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

“I can’t stay here now,” she puffed, instantly breathless.

“Sure you can.” Luke suddenly smiled, his entire face lighting up. “We have to share, that’s all.”

Lexie blinked at him goldfish-style. Her mind was goldfish-blank too. Because his eyes had some wicked glint dancing in their depths.
Share?
Share what exactly?

“You can stay here.” He spelled it out slowly. “With me.”