GirlMostLikelyTo

Girl Most Likely To

Barbara Elsborg

Wren doesn’t feel like the girl
most likely to end up living happily ever after. Especially when Adam, aka THE
BIG MISTAKE, comes back into her life. He wants a second chance but Wren’s
afraid to risk another dent in her battered heart.

When Adam reconnects with Wren, he’s
torn between wooing her and pursuing Tomas, the sexy guy in the flat next door.
They both make his heart sing—how can he possibly choose? Or maybe he’s finally
found a man and woman to give him the balance he craves.

Tomas knows better than to let his
personal life interfere with his job as an undercover officer but he can’t get
enough of Adam…or Wren. Or Adam
and
Wren, when they’re hot, naked and writhing
together in his bed.

Suddenly Wren’s gone from the girl
most likely to get ripped off to the girl most likely to
get
off. But
it’s more than sex. She, Tomas and Adam have something special, something
they’re determined to protect at all costs.

Girl Most Likely To

Barbara Elsborg

Chapter One

Adam

Adam didn’t think he’d ever seen Ally look so happy, or so
beautiful. Her wedding dress hung in overlapping, filmy layers like the
delicate petals of a flower. With her long blonde hair pinned up and threaded
with glittering gems, it wouldn’t have surprised him to see wings suddenly
burst from her shoulder blades.

His mouth twitched into a smile. Her groom hadn’t stopped
grinning the entire day. Caspar was a lucky guy and bloody sexy in that tux. He
and Ally were perfect together. A hard knot formed in Adam’s throat. Not good
to lust after one of his employees, let alone two.

Watching their first dance and thinking about them wrestling
naked on their wedding bed gave Adam a problem with hardness in another part of
his body. Good thing he stood in a dark corner. Even so, he fastened his tux
jacket to hide the bulge in his pants. As he leaned against the wall and sipped
expensive champagne he’d paid for as part of their wedding present, he took in
the love in their eyes, the graceful way they moved in each other’s arms, the
raw passion of their kiss, and knew this was the last night he’d allow himself
to want them.

Yeah, right. Good luck with that
, his cock told his
brain.

Caspar and Ally had worked for him for a year, constantly at
his side, but tomorrow they were off on a honeymoon to South America. After
he’d tried increasingly desperate excuses to persuade them not to go—a big
contract due, a problem in Scotland Caspar needed to handle and the final one,
he’d heard drug cartels were kidnapping British brides—Ally had made him feel
so bad that he’d had to say yes when she asked for three weeks’ vacation
instead of the week he’d expected.

As the song ended and applause for the newly married couple
faded, he spotted Ally heading his way wearing an expression he knew only too
well. She wanted something and they both knew he wasn’t going to like it. Ally
lifted the glass from his hand, put it on the windowsill and then tugged him
out of the shadows toward the dance floor. He yelled at his cock to behave.

“I don’t dance,” he muttered.

“Oh yes you do. We practiced this before you went to Russia
for that charity ball.”

Oh God. A bloody waltz.
Before Adam could take
another breath, Ally yanked him under the spotlights. He tripped and shot her a
glance of despair.

“Count,” she ordered.

One, three, two. Two, three, one. One, two, three.
He
managed to drag his brain into gear and took over the lead.

Ally beamed. “See? It’s like riding a bike.”

No, it wasn’t, except riding a bike could make a guy’s balls
ache too. He held her away from his body, hoping she had no idea a certain part
of his anatomy was dancing to its own tune.

“You look stunning,” he said.
I wish you were mine. I
wish Caspar were mine. I wish I was coming with you to South America.

“Thank you. And thank you for giving me away.”

Adam’s throat closed up. He could barely muster a nod. He’d
been touched and horrified when she asked him to walk her down the aisle.
Ally’s brother Finn had broken both legs in a climbing accident and his role
today had been relegated to giving a speech about the bride from his
wheelchair.

Ally sat tight-lipped while he related the tale of how she
lost her bikini on a waterslide, the occasion she dyed her hair red with car
paint and when she reversed into a police car on her driving test. For the
first time, Adam was grateful he was an only child and had no sibling to tell
embarrassing stories. Ally’s glares hadn’t silenced her brother. Funny, because
they worked really well on Adam.

When Ally asked him to give her away, she’d told him Finn’s
accident wasn’t the reason she wanted him to walk into the church with her.
Adam had been about to get uppity, thinking she saw him as some sort of father
figure, hardly fair when at thirty he was only a couple of years older than
her, but Ally had explained it was because he’d believed in Caspar when no one
else had and for that, she’d love him forever.

Except not in the way Adam would have liked.

At least Ally didn’t know he really
had
given her
away this afternoon. The marriage
had
to act like a guillotine on Adam’s
emotions. No lusting after her or Caspar anymore.
Ah damn.
Who was he
kidding? The inappropriate erections were going to continue to be a problem
until he was dead. He’d hoped for a while in the early days of their employment
that there might be room in Caspar and Ally’s relationship for him too, but he
quickly came to see they only wanted each other. Not that he’d stopped hoping.

“Caspar and I have a surprise for you,” Ally whispered as
the dance ended. “Meet us in the garden room in thirty minutes.”

“You know I don’t like surprises,” Adam said. “They’re never
something good.”

“The trouble with you, Adam, is that you don’t know what’s
good for you.”

“And you do?”

She grinned. “Of course.”

* * * * *

“No, no and no,” Adam snapped. What the hell did they think
they were doing?

“Yes.” Ally crossed her arms and pinned him with her
don’t-you-dare-upset-me-on-my-wedding-day stare.

Caspar smirked and Adam glared at him.

“It’s absolutely unacceptable,” Adam said. “I can’t possibly
take so much time off work. I’m needed. I’m indispensable. I’m the fucking
boss.”

“It’s all arranged.” Ally was unperturbed and, as usual,
unimpressed with his outburst. “A car will pick you up at ten tomorrow morning
and deliver you to the station. You’ll travel first class and be in Leeds
before noon. A driver will be waiting to take you to the place where you’ll
stay for the next three weeks. Everything you need is there.”

“I can’t control Mirafax from the north of England.”

She arched one eyebrow. “Says the man who managed quite well
to run it from the mountain in New Zealand, the bottom of that ski slope in
Canada, on—”

“Yes, all right, I can but—”

“Daniel will handle everything. If he has any problems,
he’ll contact you.”

Adam stamped across the room and then back. Daniel, his
operations director, was competent but that wasn’t the point. “I have
appointments—”

“That have already been rescheduled,” Caspar said. “This is
a slack period, the best time to take a break.”

“I don’t need one.”

“You haven’t had a proper vacation since we started working
for you a year ago,” Ally said. “Just days snatched here and there while you
were doing business.”

Adam clenched his teeth. “I don’t call going to the north of
England a vacation. Where’s the sun, sea and sex…sand?”

Caspar rolled his eyes. “A beach holiday would bore you to
tears. You can barely sit still long enough to drink a coffee.”

“I don’t want to go to Leeds. Greasy fish-and-chips, flat
caps and even flatter vowels. I won’t like it.”
Shit, that sounded like a
whine.

“Leeds is lovely. The people are friendly. They don’t even
eat Londoners anymore. Though they might make an exception for you.” Ally
handed him a large, padded envelope. “Everything you need to know, together
with the keys to your temporary home and rental car.”

He tensed. “Not a hotel?”

“No,” Caspar said. “We decided—”

“But who’ll do my laundry, make my breakfast, get me
coffee?” He tried to keep the horror out of his voice but suspected he’d failed.
If Caspar laughed, he’d fucking fire him.

Ally straightened Adam’s bow tie. “You’re going to do it
yourself. And you’re not going to set fire to your shoes.”

His cheeks flushed with heat. The day he’d interviewed the
pair, he’d tried to dry his wet shoes in the microwave. Not a good idea.

“I’ve written lists and instructions,” Ally said “All you
need to do is read them.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“You’re bored, Adam,” Caspar said.

Ally took hold of Adam’s hand and squeezed. “This is
something different. Think of it as a challenge.”

“What am I supposed to do up there? Count sheep?”

Caspar’s snigger ceased with one raised eyebrow from Ally.

“What you’re going to do is a surprise, but it’s something
you’ve told us you want to do. Er—at least I think it was what you said.”

Was that guilt on her face? Oh God.
He swallowed
hard.

“Anyway, if you don’t stick with it,” she said, “we’ll be
very disappointed.”

Even though Ally and Caspar were lost to him, he still
didn’t want to disappoint them.

Everyone gathered in the courtyard to watch Caspar and
Ally’s departure. Fireworks exploded in the sky as the unmarried women jostled
and sharpened their elbows, readying to catch the bouquet. Adam stood off to
one side and smiled at their determination. He had no interest in getting
married but he’d been a little surprised Ally hadn’t tried to pair him up with
anyone today. It was enough to make him even more suspicious about what awaited
him in Leeds.

Ally stood with her back to the crowd, who began to count.
On three, the bouquet flew into the night sky and came down to land in Adam’s
arms.

The little shit.

Wren

Wren stared at the plate of food in front of her, wondering
if she could hide three slices of fatty lamb, a scattering of bullet-hard peas
and four limp asparagus spears under a badly piped rosette of mashed potato.
Everyone else on the table tucked into the wedding breakfast as though it was
the best thing they’d ever eaten, but Wren just couldn’t. If either of her
brothers had been near, they’d have helped her out, but they were on the other
side of the marquee, sitting with the interesting people.

After taking a quick glance around her table of
not-interesting people to check no one was watching, Wren slid the lamb under
the potato. The asparagus followed, then the peas. She was tempted to build a
little fort with a moat for the gravy and a spoonful of mint sauce for the
grass.

Oh God, I’m bored.
And hungry. If only she were
sitting in front of a proper breakfast of bacon, eggs, fried bread and sausage.
And mushrooms. Her mouth watered. It was such a cheat to call this a wedding
breakfast.

“This is delicious,” said Peter, the big guy at her side
who—if he ate any more—would burst out of his tight-fitting tux. He’d already
spilt gravy on his shirt and spattered the white tablecloth in all directions.

The gravy was Wren’s main problem. She might have forced
down some of the food, but they’d delivered the plate swimming in brown slurry
and Wren hated gravy. Hated it almost as much as having to attend this wedding
and watch a former boyfriend marry her cousin Belinda. Not that she gave two
figs about Leo anymore but everyone else clearly thought she did. Wren
suspected that was down to Belinda. If one more person told her how brave she
was and that there’d be another nice man for her one day, Wren was going to
jump up on a table and tell everyone the truth about what happened a year ago.

She’d been going out with Leo for seven months when she’d
entered his apartment to find him entwined on the couch with her cousin, his
white butt bouncing up and down. Wren had never forgotten Belinda’s smirk
because it suggested the whole thing had been planned. Belinda had wanted Leo
the moment she’d seen him and Belinda always got what she wanted, usually after
Wren had it first. Shoes, clothes, nail polish, boyfriends. Even more annoying,
Wren had introduced the pair when Belinda came to work at the same place as her
and Leo.

“Gosh, they gave you a big helping of mashed potatoes.”
Peter eyed the teetering tower she’d built.

It appeared as if he’d licked his plate clean. Judging from
the dribble of gravy on his chin, he probably had.

“Mmm,” Wren sighed and reached for her wine. At least that
tasted good, but she knew better than to get drunk within sight of her parents.
She also knew she’d been deliberately seated next to a guy she wouldn’t like as
part of her punishment for refusing to be a bridesmaid. Her aunt, her mum’s
twin, had steamed when Wren said no, and Belinda had forced out a few tears,
but Wren knew Belinda was actually pleased because it enabled her to play the
role of disappointed bride.

Actually, it had been a hard choice for Wren as to whom
she’d rather piss off—Belinda by being a bridesmaid or her aunt by not being
one, but when she’d seen Belinda walk down the aisle in an admittedly beautiful
dress, but with six lemon, green and orange puff balls bustling after her like
sherbet bonbons rolling from a bag, she’d been relieved not to be one of them.
Bad enough she’d been forced to come anyway but she’d known how it would look if
she hadn’t.

“I could eat that all over again.” Peter stared at Wren’s
plate.

If he exploded, it might liven things up. “Want to swap?”
she asked. “There’s a surprise under the potato.”

He’d exchanged plates almost before she’d finished speaking.

“Did I tell you I found Belinda and Leo their house?” he
asked.

Only three times.
All he’d talked about was the
housing market. He licked a smear of gravy from his lip with a long pale tongue
and Wren fought not to heave.

“It’s an absolute steal. ‘Course it needs a lot of work, but
they’ll easily double what they paid for it. You should be thinking about
buying instead of renting. Property’s a great investment, particularly while
the market’s slack.”

Wren nodded politely.

“Come in and see me next week. I’ve got a fantastic little
terraced house in Headingley that would suit a first-time buyer.”

“I don’t want to buy at the moment.”

Last week, she had been. This week, she wasn’t.

Last week, Wren had been partway toward a deposit to
purchase a place of her own, but her now
ex
-boyfriend Brendan had not
only managed to empty her savings account, he’d also taken every penny from her
current account.
Bastard.
Worse still, he’d maxed out her credit card by
withdrawing cash. She’d not only lost around eight thousand pounds, but now
owed more than ten thousand with interest accruing daily.