Be My Bride: The Right Mr Wrong / A Most Suitable Wife / Betrothed for the Baby. Natalie Anderson
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it going to be very good?’
His attention snapped back to her face. ‘I’ve done the convenient relationship. It doesn’t work. One-night stands do.’
The ‘convenient relationship’? So he hadn’t been in love with Aurelie? Or was this his way of hiding his own deep hurt?
‘I’m not a one-night stand person,’ she answered honestly.
‘Maybe you should try it. Once.’
She held his gaze—still feeling that pull towards him, but she was older and wiser and stronger now. ‘You don’t like to give up, do you?’
There was a slight hesitation. ‘No. I told you I like to win.’
‘And that’s what this is?’ She gestured—fluttering her fingers towards him and then herself. ‘Like an event to be won?’
‘If we don’t explore it, there’ll always be that curiosity. Be honest,’ he drawled, taking another step closer. ‘You’re dying of curiosity. That burning wonder of what might have been.’
‘So poetic?’
‘It’s the Irish ancestry in me. And I’m right. We both know that.’ His voice dropped. ‘We also both know how good it’s going to be.’
‘Liam.’
His lashes lowered. ‘It’s always going to be like this,’ he muttered. ‘It’s inevitable. It always has been.’
No. She’d ceded control of her life for too long—always doing what others wanted. She was in control now.
He’d stepped near enough to touch her and now he did. Reaching out to brush the tips of his fingers on her shoulder.
‘Only once, you say?’ she asked, letting some tease out. Determined to make him pay for this casual attitude. As if all this was was sexual curiosity that could be assuaged in one hit.
‘Feel free to make me change my mind.’ His mouth quirked. ‘Love to see you try.’
She stepped back.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Not happening.’ She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Feel free to make me change my mind,’ she threw at him. ‘Go on. Do your worst.’
Startled, he stepped after her. ‘Victoria—’
‘Was this only ever lust? You’re so driven by base urges you ruined your friendship with Oliver? You almost broke up a relationship? For a quick fling?’
Or was it even less than that? She took another step from him, using the last bit of space behind her and bumping the backs of her knees against the small cot she called her bed.
‘Was it just your overblown need to win?’ she continued. ‘You’re so insanely competitive, did you need to get one over him? Was I nothing more than the trophy of the day?’ She kept her smile on but it was slipping. Quickly.
‘No.’ He frowned.
That didn’t satisfy her. ‘Then don’t cheapen this. Don’t cheapen me.’
Now he looked angry. ‘I didn’t betray Oliver.’
No?
‘I didn’t seduce you,’ he argued, standing so close she could feel his warmth and almost taste the salty ocean breeze that he always seemed to evoke. ‘And I could have.’
‘You think?’
‘I can’t give you everything you want. I can only—’
‘You don’t know what I want.’
He shrugged one shoulder. ‘Marriage, babies, Labradors.’
‘I tried that. It’s not for me.’ Maybe she just wanted acknowledgement of what could have been between them. That this had been more than just a sexual attraction. That somehow, unbelievable as it might have been, there had been a real connection between them that week.
‘So what do you want?’
‘A career. My business.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I was making headway before the divorce. Oliver hated that I was more successful than he was.’ The banking crisis had hardly been her fault. Hundreds in the city had been laid off—Oliver had been one of them. But for whatever reason, her little enterprise had gained traction. But after his affair and the divorce she’d lost it. Now she was back at the beginning. But she believed in it. In herself. ‘I want to build this up into something great. And to do that I need to finish this for Aurelie. That’s what I want. To have work coming out of my ears. For people to love my work.’
He was silent, his eyes boring into her, for a long moment. Then he glanced around her small room again. The plain, utility style room with her neatly lined tins and stacks of paper and materials.
‘That’s all you want?’ he asked.
‘That’s all I have time for.’
‘No time for anything else?’ He suddenly smiled, wicked-incarnate again. ‘Not even one night?’
‘Typical.’ She rolled her eyes, her good humour lifting at the swift return of his. ‘You just want to bang the one who got away.’
‘What, and you think you’re unaffected?’ he teased. ‘I see how you look at me.’
She averted her eyes immediately. ‘Unbelievable.’
‘But true nonetheless.’ He nodded. ‘Look, I respect your aims. And you’re right, you have no time. But let’s clear the air a little.’
In what way exactly? That wicked look in his eye was only growing.
‘I don’t think the air needs clearing,’ she said firmly. ‘One kiss,’ he tempted. ‘We never even kissed.’
That was true. She’d turned away. She still didn’t know how she’d managed it. But she was repeating it now— there’d be no kissing.
He laughed at her expression. ‘Don’t look so worried. It might be a huge let-down.’
‘I thought you were too much of a Casanova to let any woman down that way.’
‘You might let me down,’ he taunted.
‘You’re questioning my abilities?’ She winced at the high pitch of her attempted comeback. Not exactly sizzling.
His smile came so quick, so lethal it shot heat into her abdomen. ‘Well, how good are you?’
‘Better than you.’ She snapped the obvious answer straight back—smart all the way and unwilling to concede a thing.
His smiled broadened.
But hers faltered. She thought about what she’d said. Fact was she was more fizzle than sizzle. The fantasy was shattered. She wasn’t good at all. She’d had one lover in her life—Oliver. And he’d gone and found greater warmth with another woman.
‘Victoria?’
Liam’s smile had died. Was it concern that he was looking at her with? She looked away again. She didn’t want that. She didn’t want a pity kiss, she didn’t want to be a disappointment.
‘It’s not going to be good.’ She cleared her throat and then glued on a smile so he’d think she was feeling it as an easy joke. ‘So let’s just keep it as an unfulfilled fantasy.’
He muttered something, she didn’t know what. She just wanted him to leave now. She had a headache coming on, she had so much work to do. And the emotional spin he’d put her in? It was like going through the washing machine on heavy duty. Only he wasn’t washing away all those old emotions. He was hauling them out again— the stains of the past. Want and desire and silly things that she’d forgotten about.
Except she’d not forgotten. And it still wasn’t the right time. It never would be.