Holiday With The Millionaire. Scarlet Wilson
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what his next twenty-four hours would be like he wouldn’t have believed them. Not for a second.
He rapped the door of the Camden flat once again, glancing down to the street to where his car was idling. Even from here he could see Lara’s hands turning over and over in her lap.
There was a noise—a grunt—and the door finally opened.
Reuben blinked. Really? Lara was definitely hovering around a ten. This guy? He was lucky if he was a four. What’s more, he could almost smell the arrogance coming from him. His fingers automatically balled into fists.
‘Who are you?’ said Mr Barely Dressed. That paunch really wasn’t attractive. There was a tittering noise behind him. Great. The neighbour was still hanging around.
‘I’m a friend of Lara’s. I’m here to pick up the rest of her stuff.’
The guy’s brow furrowed. ‘A friend of Lara’s? I’ve never met you before.’
‘And you’ll never meet me again. Now, she wants her case with her summer clothes in it. Give it to me and we’ll be on our way.’
Now the guy looked really pleased with himself. ‘Well, it’s too late. I flung the rest of her stuff out of the flat yesterday after she stormed out. The bin men have already been.’ He folded his arms across his chest.
‘You what?’ He couldn’t stop himself. He had Mr Smarmy pinned against the wall in an instant. ‘You did what?’
The guy panicked. ‘Well, she was gone. And it’s not like she’ll be coming back. Why would I want to keep her stuff?’
Reuben shook his head. ‘It’s not bad enough you got caught in bed with another woman, you didn’t even give Lara the chance to collect all her things. How dare you?’
The guy was still against the wall but he lifted his hands, doing his best impression of a shrug. ‘Well, she was screaming and shouting yesterday. Calling me all kinds of names. There was no way she’d be back.’
A woman appeared at his elbow, holding a phone in her hand. ‘If you don’t get out of here now I’m calling the police.’ She turned her nose up in a sneer. ‘Tell Lara she’s not welcome here.’
There was so much he could say. His temper was bubbling just beneath the surface. What a pair of low-lives. The woman was running her eyes up and down his body. It made him feel positively unclean. Both of them did.
He could feel adrenaline surging within him, closely followed by a red mist descending. Just like he had the night he’d punched out Caleb. Was it any wonder Addison didn’t like him? He flinched. He didn’t want to be that guy any more. He was trying not to be that guy any more.
He released his grip on the guy and looked at him in disgust. ‘You two deserve each other. Lara’s worth ten of you.’
He turned on his heel, ignoring the shouts that followed him. The guy made him mad. The girl made him mad. Their utter disrespect of Lara made him mad. How had she ended mixed up with these two?
He strode back to the car, jumped inside and slammed the door, not thinking for a second about what he was going to say to her.
Her eyes widened at the expression on his face and she stared at his empty hands. ‘Didn’t you get my stuff?’
It was the wide-eyed innocence that made his stomach curl in knots. On a few fleeting moments Lara had appeared quite street savvy, but right now? He felt as if he were just about to grab her heart between both hands and squeeze hard.
She’d already told him she’d saved hard for her dream holiday—and from what he’d seen he could take a guess that the guy upstairs hadn’t contributed at all. Just how much would it cost her to replace her entire summer holiday wardrobe?
‘I’m picking your stuff up later,’ he said quickly.
He turned the car onto the main road. ‘Now, let’s go and food shop.’
* * *
She wasn’t quite sure when the house burglar turned into her kind of guardian angel. All she knew was thirty minutes after telling her they’d pick up her clothes later he pulled his sleek car up outside one of the most famous department stores in London with its gold and green sign.
Reuben walked around and opened the door for her. Her head flicked from side to side. ‘You can’t leave your car here...’
Her voice trailed off as a uniformed man slid into the driver’s seat and the car mysteriously disappeared.
He smiled at the expression on her face and gestured towards the door. ‘Let’s hit the food court. We need to buy supplies.’
She watched the dark red car disappear around the corner, shaking her head as he slung his arm back around her shoulders and steered her towards the entrance. ‘I didn’t even know they did that,’ she murmured.
‘What can I say? I’ve friends in high places.’
What on earth did that mean? She looked down at her clothes. Jeans and a pink t-shirt. And come to think of it her boots could do with a polish. If she’d known they were shopping in style she might have dressed up a little.
They walked down the stairs to the food court. Even two steps down the aroma of everything expensive came up to meet them.
Reuben was smiling already, crossing over to the glass display cabinet of fine meats and truffles and foie gras.
‘What do you like?’ he asked.
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Chicken.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Chicken?’ You’d think she’d sworn out loud.
She nodded. ‘Chicken. I like chicken.’
She looked around at the massive department.
‘And raspberry jam. And freshly baked bread—maybe a croissant or two. And some more bacon and eggs.’
Her legs had started walking, following her nose as she glanced from side to side.
‘I love the chocolate digestives from here, and the rose and violet shortbread— Oh...’ She spun round and put her hand on his chest. ‘And those tiny dark chocolates filled with orange. Now, where on earth will they be?’
He put one hand on his hip as people filed past. ‘We’re in one of the finest food stores and you want bacon. And eggs. And raspberry jam.’ His chest was right in front of her nose and now every time she breathed in she didn’t get the wonderful food aromas around her, she just got Reuben Tyler. Every masculine, woody scent of him. If she could sell that aftershave she’d never have to work again.
She breathed in, trying not to look like a teenager. Her hand was still resting on his chest. Through his thin T-shirt she could feel the warmth of his skin and the roughened hairs underneath the palm of her hand. Her brain tried to make sense of things.
This time yesterday she hadn’t known this man. She hadn’t even known he existed.
‘Chicken.’ The word came out of nowhere. ‘You forgot the chicken.’
She tilted her head and smiled up at him. Her nose was directly across from his chest. Too close for comfort really. Especially now she could see the tiny shadow along his jaw line. Why did her hand want to reach up and touch it?
His arm folded around her waist and he pulled her closer and spun her around as a large group of tourists swept past. He was looking down at her with those deep brown eyes. It was almost as if he knew she was a little mesmerised. Truth was, he must be used to it.
‘Didn’t want you to get trampled.’ He laughed as his accent played havoc with her senses. ‘And chicken.’ He shook his head again. ‘Let’s not forget the chicken.’
He reached behind her, his chin brushing against her hair, and plucked a thin cylindrical box from a stand. ‘Your orange creams,