Nice Girls Finish Last (4 page)

‘You'd better get to Dion's office.' All husky, she turned her head away from him. ‘He'll wonder where you are.'

The irony of it was he was here to see her. Hoping he could convince her to go in to bat for his boys. Only, Seth wasn't about to ruin the prospect of a fascinating evening by bringing up business now. He couldn't seem to care enough about it this minute, which was
wrong
when so many others were relying on him. But the embodiment of temptation before him was irresistible. He reversed the order of his plan—Lena, then the project.

He stepped back to let her be the boss. Reminded himself that breathing was necessary to life. Assured himself that very soon he'd touch her again.

‘6:00 p.m.,' he confirmed before any feminine doubts surfaced and she tried to cancel. He could see her wavering, not looking at him. Sure enough she shivered, her body battling to contain conflicting emotions. Desire versus uncertainty. But he wasn't going to let her withdraw. It was too late, the chemical reaction had begun and the explosion was inevitable.

He'd only taken a couple of steps out of sight of her doorway when he heard it. The laugh. The husky, nervous but naughty laugh. The desire to inhale that intoxicating mix almost overpowered him. It had drawn him to her in the corridor, had been echoing in his ears since. His fists
clenched as he fought the impulse to turn back and tumble her to the floor. He was damn well going to have that laugh beneath him before nightfall.

L
ENA
staggered round her desk and curled into her chair. She wanted to hide, laugh, cry. All at once. Had she just done that? Had she brazenly come on to
the
Seth Walker—insisting he take her on a dinner date? At
home
? She laughed even more helplessly than she had before. Then it turned into panic. She glanced at her watch. It was just after 5:00 p.m., which meant that she had less than an hour before she was going to…
what
exactly?

She froze for the next ten minutes, struggling to believe she'd voiced her desire so bluntly. Struggling to believe she'd
felt
that desire to such an extreme. Then she heard them, the male voices, that low drawl, then laughter. She braced, her heart stopping for a seriously damaging twenty seconds.

They didn't come to see her. Didn't even glance in as they passed by her open door. She heard Dion calling out goodbye, heard the footsteps fade. So he'd gone, the guy she'd all but offered herself on a platter to—
fresh.
Was he really going to come back?

Time twisted, slowed, tormented. Her embarrassment multiplied. Why would the guy who could have any woman in the world want her? Things like this didn't happen to Lena. The rugby guys asked her out only because she was famous for saying no, not because they meant it. She must
have imagined the intensity of that whole thing. Seth was a playboy. Lena, while not an innocent in a few too many ways, was utterly one in the world of the one-night rendezvous.

Oh, hell. She could laugh it off, right? He probably wasn't going to show anyway. She held out her hand and checked to see if the all-over trembling she felt inside was visible. Totally was. As the seconds ticked she knew she couldn't follow through. She'd been on another planet to think she could. She might once have been labelled a minx who tried to destroy a marriage, but she was no femme fatale. She never did this. Never thought about hot, sweaty, super-naughty sex.

Well, hardly ever.

Her heart thundered, splitting her body in two with its contrary desires—one half wanted to run far and fast to a safe, isolated corner, while the other half couldn't get past that so-carnal kiss and wanted more, more, more.

Maybe what she'd said to him earlier hadn't been that far off the mark. Maybe being around all those nearly naked men had somehow turned her sexual thermostat on high. Maybe it hadn't been Seth heating her so devastatingly, it had been the situation.

That would be it.

Except she'd been around all those semi-naked rugby boys so many times before and had never had this kind of reaction to any of them. Somehow Seth Walker had slid right beneath her rigidly imposed barriers and flicked her switch on high. And it had been so long, she couldn't seem to turn herself back off. She drummed her fingers on her tidy desk and as the clock ticked on her bravado seeped out. She'd call him and cancel, except she didn't have his number.

Oh, hell, she didn't want to wait round for either a no-
show or an awkward end to what had been a simple flirt for him and a lightning bolt for her. She grabbed her bag a good ten minutes before she'd told him to meet her and started down the empty corridor, a second away from sprinting.

‘Lena.'

Her skin crisped as if she'd been plunged into boiling oil. She turned slowly and saw him leaning against Dion's doorjamb. ‘What are you doing here?' she asked, girlishly breathless.

His smile broadened. ‘Waiting for you?'

‘I said Exit Four.' Her heart stuttered like a first-generation machine gun. The reaction began instantly—his proximity heating her so fast she tingled all over.

‘Oh, that's right,' he drawled, eyes twinkling. ‘I forgot.'

She didn't think so; he was far too intelligent to forget anything like that.

‘Exit Four…' He glanced at the wall and the signs that were so helpfully posted there. ‘That's down that corridor, isn't it?'

Lena didn't answer yes because, if she'd been going to Exit Four, she should have turned left five paces ago.

‘Lucky we bumped into each other here, isn't it, otherwise you might have been waiting for ages at Exit Four and thought I'd stood you up. But I'd never do that.'

He spoke softly, but she felt the light bite he intended. He knew she'd been going to bottle it and be the one to stand
him
up.

She just looked at him, at a loss for everything because he was wreaking havoc on her system again. As had happened the second she'd first seen him, nerves, hormones,
needs
began to shriek.

‘Shall we get going?' He jerked his head towards the stairs.

Her mouth was gummed, so she couldn't get the ‘sorry
but no thanks' out and he'd already cupped her elbow and started walking them down the stairs. Her response surged higher. Incredible how the sound of his voice and the lightest grip on her brought on such giddy anticipation.

She was melting—into a mess. This wasn't going to work. She'd never spoken so suggestively in her life. In her last relationship it had been her ex who'd done the running; only at the end had she acted so desperately. Now she'd been more forward than she could believe, to someone so out of her league. Seth Walker was probably used to having women in his bed who did the splits five ways while swinging from a chandelier. She'd never been anything better than average in anything, not even sex. Her best course of action was a speedy withdrawal before she made more of an idiot of herself.

‘I'm sorry about your jacket,' she muttered as they got to the entrance level.

‘No, you're not.' He laughed. ‘But that's okay, it wasn't a favourite.'

She walked with him across the car park, because she couldn't decide how to phrase her escape and because he moved with such assurance it was easier to go with him than against him. He'd put sunglasses on and she couldn't read his expression. She'd have put hers on, too, except she was holding her bag in a death grip and couldn't relax her fingers enough to operate the catch.

‘This is mine.' He stopped by a beautiful gleaming black car. Its design spoke volumes—not some flashy low-to-the-ground sports number with a huge stereo system like most of the rugby guys drove, but sleek, solid, offering extreme comfort. ‘You ready to go?' he asked.

‘Actually, no.' She tried to smile back but her mouth was too stiff. ‘This was such a… We don't have to do dinner. I
don't know what came over me,' she mumbled. ‘I was just being…being…'

‘Provocative?'

Yes, she had been. Only, now she'd provoked his reaction, she didn't think she could handle it.

‘Stupid,' she corrected, staring at the car rather than him. ‘Look, I'll catch the bus. I'm sorry you had to come back here.'

‘You're not catching the bus.' He smiled, totally friendly and not at all wolfish. Well, she didn't think so—she couldn't see his eyes. ‘At least let me drop you home.'

Oh. Lena breathed. He'd capitulated easily—she'd been reading this wrong. He wasn't that interested. And she refused to admit to that sudden disappointment. ‘No, I'm okay. I'll get the bus.'

‘I'm here anyway, I'm driving back through town…' He still looked friendly, but like he didn't really mind either way. ‘Be silly to waste the gas.'

As she hesitated he flicked a button and unlocked the car. She shouldn't refuse. She'd look silly and rude and hadn't she been silly and rude enough to him? She didn't want to look any more pathetic than she already did. ‘Okay, but I'm really sorry for wasting your time.'

She was even more sorry she didn't have the guts she'd had an hour before. She slid into the car, felt the leather practically embrace her. He pulled out of the park instantly, the engine so smooth it was almost inaudible.

‘I'm disappointed,' he said. ‘I was looking forward to cooking up something fresh for you.'

Despite the gentle airconditioning, Lena's temperature surged and butterfly wings beat in her belly. But he'd spoken so blandly there wasn't any undertone going on, right? ‘You caught me at a bad moment when I was…wasn't thinking.'

‘Now I'm even more disappointed.' His lips curved. ‘I
thought I'd finally found a woman who'd hold her own with me. I was excited about that.'

Hold her own? Okay, the undertone
was
there and searing images filled her head—ones where pleasure was extreme and mutually exhausting. ‘I think we should forget about what happened this afternoon,' she mumbled.

‘No, you don't.' He suddenly laughed. ‘And I
can't.
Anyway, I need to offer you a genuine apology and you do owe me for the jacket.'

Did he have to laugh? It was too seductive. ‘You can send me the bill and you don't need to apologise, your assumption wasn't that bad. Or surprising, considering how it must have looked.'

His grin widened, which wasn't right, because she wasn't trying to tease him, she was trying to engineer an almost dignified exit.

‘I apologise anyway,' he said. ‘And as for your account, I'd prefer your time over your money.'

A smooth line. A turn of his head that spelt intimacy. Her hot-for-him hormones soared—turning her back into that malleable toy with ‘his to play with' on the label. She took a quick breath and told herself to calm down. It was mad to feel his every word and glance so intensely.

He drove confidently, sliding along the thinnest of lanes with nerve-twanging speed, asking briefly for directions. She gave them as best she could, given her whirling thoughts and seesawing intentions.

‘How long have you worked at the stadium?' he asked.

Easy conversation. Thank goodness. ‘Nearly eighteen months.'

‘And you don't mind being the only woman among all that testosterone?'

‘There are women working there—in catering, front of house.'

‘But not with you.'

‘No.' Admittedly she'd liked it that way at the start. She'd found that women judged more than men, their approval was harder to win and easier to lose and she'd been wary about making new friends. She'd steered well clear of the wives-and-girlfriends club and even further from the behind-the-wife's-back mistresses. But now she was happier than she'd ever been and she'd love to find some girls to hang with. Trouble was now she was so busy at work she didn't have much time.

‘So the guys don't bother you?' he asked, the tease apparent in his tone. ‘I imagine they can be pretty demanding at times.'

‘You mean like the baby oil request?' She giggled. ‘I don't mind them, they're just goofing. My brother was a national basketball rep, my father the assistant coach.' She shook her head. ‘I've been surrounded by packs of competitive, sporting males my whole life, I know how to handle jocks and jerks.'

‘Yeah, you left your mark on a couple today, that's for sure.' He laughed, too. ‘So does your brother still play?'

‘He's in the States now on a full scholarship at one of those Ivy League places.'

‘Impressive.'

‘Yeah, he's pretty amazing.' Her kid brother wasn't just a stellar athlete, but a genius academic, as well. But even he couldn't hold a candle to their super-gifted sister. Lena loved them both, was proud of them both. And wanted them to be even just a little proud of her. So she was working on it. ‘My place is next on the left.'

He turned the car into her driveway and she braced herself to begin the goodbye she'd been mentally practising. ‘Thanks for—'

‘You know, I was hoping you'd change your mind,' he
interrupted. Taking off his sunglasses, he swivelled to face her. He knew what he was doing. Anyone who looked into those blue eyes would be hypnotised into saying ‘absolutely' to everything.

‘Invite me in,' he said bluntly. ‘I'll cook. Won't take an hour and your debt's paid.' A so-easy deal from a wicked expression.

She didn't answer. At that moment, she simply couldn't.

‘It's too nice a night to dine alone.' He was shameless about using that gorgeous smile.

Seth Walker was a winner and she knew why. She also knew that if she let him in now, there was a very high chance he wouldn't be leaving again 'til the next morning.

He knew that, too.

That
was the decision.

He waited, holding her hostage with just that look. She couldn't drag her gaze away. It hovered between them—knowledge, awareness, honesty. With his sunglasses off, she saw the hunger in him. Her hormones rejoiced and the sensible, safe, walk-away decision of twenty minutes ago got fried in the heat roiling inside her. This might be a first for her but that didn't make it bad. Crazy confidence flared, coiled inextricably around recklessness. In that instant she knew she'd do whatever the hell she wanted.

He
was what she wanted. She
would
be the vixen she'd once been branded. Just for one night.

She undid her seat belt. ‘Okay, you can cook dinner. But I'll help.'

She turned from his victory smile and got out of the car to unlock her flat. She was halfway across her lounge when she heard her front door shut with a thud.

She paused; her sense of intimacy screamed higher. So did her pulse. So did her until-this-afternoon-dead sex drive. Blood rushed and hunger pooled, relentless in its demand.
She turned to look at him. Yes. This wasn't a desire to fill an emotional need—a renowned playboy wasn't the guy for that. But she was sure he could satisfy the physical void she was suddenly acutely aware of. He was the most impressive man she'd ever met. And given where she worked, that was saying something. It seemed she'd been stabbed with an adrenaline injection. Okay, a lust injection.

‘Nice place.' He carelessly dropped his keys onto a table near the door.