London Falling (11 page)

The Scottie’s tail whapped her in the face, and she groaned, smacked her lips together, and flipped over as if she were still asleep.

The faker.

Since he really needed to get some work done tonight, he decided to let her get away with the performance. He picked up the dog and placed him at the end of the bed again. “Don’t get too comfortable, Scottie,” he whispered.

“You’re going to have to go home as soon as Aimee finds your real owners.”

Aimee’s jaw tightened, but she kept up her charade. He didn’t bother muffling his footsteps on the way out and shut the door with a click.

After turning off the hall light, he paused to let his eyes become accustomed to the dark. Good God, he enjoyed baiting her. He almost looked forward to seeing what she was going to do next to get back at him. Never in his life had he met anyone like her. Stubborn. Cheeky. And beautiful, his traitorous thoughts added.

After he passed through the kitchen door, the siren call of the fairy cakes stopped him in his tracks. He could almost taste chocolate in the air. Ever since he’d snuck down to the kitchen at age four and the cook had slipped him a fairy cake behind his mother’s back, he’d been a sucker for them. He looked behind him to make sure Aimee hadn’t followed him into the kitchen and then opened the lid on the bin.

Light from the streetlight streamed through the window and highlighted the cakes. Chocolate frosting was smashed on the bin liner and the cakes were topsy-turvy in the bin, but one brilliant specimen sat in the very center of the pile, not touching the bin liner nor contaminated by any other piece of rubbish. It was absolute perfection.

He stuck his hand into the bin to retrieve it, shaking his head at the irony of the situation. The head of the biggest division of the largest private bank in Great Britain was rummaging for food in the bin, while a homeless woman read The Economist downstairs.

He shrugged, picked up the fairy cake and leaned against the counter to enjoy a moment of pure gastronomic bliss. A beautiful woman who could cook. He was almost starting to appreciate her presence in his life. Almost.

Aimee tossed her feet over the edge of the bed and hopped onto the floor.

Why hadn’t she stopped him from stealing his phone back? If he called the police, she needed to get out of here fast, because she couldn’t make money stuck in a jail cell, and she couldn’t get home without money. She hadn’t been thinking, that’s for sure. She’d just been so startled to see him in her room, she’d almost thought–No, she couldn’t go there.

Had he called them yet? Was he calling them?

After shutting Cupcake in the room, she raced down the hall in her socks.

The lights were all off. Where was he? She rounded the corner of the kitchen and ran smack into something hard.

“Oof,” it said.

She screamed.

“Good God, woman. What in the hell are you about?” Simon asked.

A warm hand steadied her while she gasped for breath. “You scared me,”

she said.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” He dropped his hand, and cool air rushed to replace the heat from his body.

She took a deep breath, which calmed her beating heart, but didn’t stop her hands from shaking. “What in the world are you doing just standing in the doorway? In the dark?” Her stomach dropped. Had he stolen his phone to get her out of her room on purpose? “Were you waiting for me?”

“Waiting for someone who was asleep two seconds ago?”

Whoops, he’d caught her. She stepped away and flipped on the light.

Simon shoved something behind his back and leaned against the counter, hiding whatever it was with his body.

“What was that?” she asked. It had to be his cell.

“Nice legs,” he said.

Crap. She’d forgotten that she only wore a t-shirt that barely covered her thighs. And no bra. Her sometimes B sometimes C cup breasts definitely needed some support in public. She folded her arms over her chest, but that only made the t-shirt ride higher on her thighs. She dropped her arms. Damn him. Why did she feel so exposed? A bathing suit showed way more skin than she was showing right now.

“What did you hide?” she asked.

“Are you cold?”

“No, why?” He looked pointedly at her t-shirt, and she hunched her shoulders to hide the evidence. She’d pay anything to have her Washington sweatshirt returned to her right now. “Stop trying to change the subject.

What are you hiding from me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He pinched his brows together in supposed confusion.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

He continued to tense his brows.

“You know, the thing you hid behind your back as soon as I turned the light on?”

“Ohhh. Reaching behind him, he pulled his mobile out of his pocket and waved it at her. “Just my mobile. I was afraid the kleptomaniac in the house might filch it again.” He tucked it back in his pocket.

It was clearly not his mobile, because whatever he hid behind him, he had put on the counter, and it hadn’t made a sound when it hit the hard marble.

The number to the police department? How could she discover what it was?

She scratched her right calf with the toe of her left foot. Simon’s gaze followed the movement and then lingered on her legs. His blue eyes became more intense, darker. She shivered, but it had nothing to do with the cold tile floor against her bare feet. Aimee’s heart pounded as she became aware of the unsettling, warm man invading her personal space.

Every instinct she possessed told her to run, but she had to find out what he was hiding. Although, she’d never been one of those females who could bat their eyes and drive men to fall at their feet, it was worth a try, if she could be that brave. She trailed her fingers along the hem of her shirt.

“Is that my t-shirt?” he asked. He tracked every subtle move of her hand.

“Mmm-hmm.” A strange combination of adrenaline, nervousness, and uncertainty pulsed through her veins. She considered stretching her arms up in a fake yawn, but that would show way too much skin for comfort. Instead, she played with the bottom of the t-shirt, tracing a soft path on her skin.

His eyes flicked from her upper thigh to her eyes and then back to her thigh. Another shot of adrenaline surged through her veins. She was getting to him.

“So why were you standing in the door of the kitchen in the dark?” she asked, lowering her voice. She caressed her arm, pushing the sleeve up to her shoulder, and then trailed her fingers back down to her elbow. His perfect blue eyes followed the path of her fingers. How in the world could that be working? It was her elbow, for heaven’s sake, but the kitchen was so quiet, she could hear the clock ticking.

“What did you say?” he asked.

She made her move. Racing across the tiles, she stretched out her hands to grab the unknown item, but her fingers barely registered something that felt like damp paper before he reacted, wrapping his arms around her from the side and trapping her limbs. He stepped away from the counter, pulling her with him and putting her further away from her goal. And closer to him.

His heart pounded against her arm, and the muscles of his chest tightened as he adjusted his embrace. His breath tickled her ear as he spoke.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

She was trapped. And completely vulnerable. She cursed herself for playing with fire. Nothing good ever came of her interactions with the opposite sex.

He adjusted his arms around her, which made her shirt ride up, and her cheap cotton underwear rubbed against his designer jeans. She swallowed.

The temptation to slide her hands around his body and lean into his warmth left her trembling, but she knew that direction only led to ruin.

She clenched her fists and took a deep breath. “Are you enjoying your peep at my nether regions?”

“What?” He relaxed his arms enough so that she could pull away.

At the same time he moved to hide the offending item from her eyes, the brick facade returned to his face. She was practically panting with need, and he wasn’t even affected by what just happened.

“What exactly are nether regions?” he asked.

She stepped back and leaned against the opposite counter, making sure her t-shirt stayed long. Of course he wouldn’t be impacted by their close encounter. He was Kobe beef and she was Hamburger Helper. Generic brand She had to get a grip. “Nether regions are the region of my nether.”

He laughed, and once again she was struck by how relaxed he looked with a smile on his face. He’d shaved, bringing out the hard angle of his chin, but there was a small spot where he’d nicked himself.

“I think I actually might like you, Aimee Kennedy.”

Her wariness radar went up. “And why is that?”

“You make me laugh.” He shoved both hands in his pockets. “I have a proposal for you.”

Oh God. She’d totally misjudged everything. And she should know better, given her history. Despite the money and the prestigious job and the fact that he didn’t like her, he was still a man with basic needs. Although she already knew the answer, she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“What kind of proposal?”

“Actually, it’s more like a barter agreement. No money involved.”

“I’m not that desperate to get home. I respect myself more than that.”

“You haven’t even heard the proposal yet.”

“Believe me, there is nothing you could say that would entice me to sleep with you for a ticket home.”

“You–” He interrupted himself with a loud crack of laughter and folded his arms around his stomach, while deep belly laughs bent him forward at the waist. As if his laughter pipe had burst, all the laughs of his entire life came gushing out.

A rash of heat burned the side of her neck and inflamed her cheeks. She wanted to bury herself in her comforter and never come out again.

He wiped the tears from his eyes. “You–” He laughed again. “You thought I was propositioning you?”

Aimee shrugged. What else was she supposed to think?

“I’m the one who’s trying to avoid a scandal. Do you really think I would propose a sexual trade with someone I’m worried might go to the tabloids with a story?”

Well if he wanted to bring logic into it, no. “What was I supposed to think?”

“Not that.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Look, you need a place to stay, and I need a housekeeper. The agreement is this: in exchange for a place to stay, you keep the place clean until the New Year’s Eve benefit. It’s not like you won’t be cleaning the house anyway.”

“That’s not–”

“It’s true. I’ve seen the house.”

She shook her head. “That’s not–”

“It’s true. And I honestly admire you for it. It means you’ll get somewhere someday.” He hesitated. “I have to be honest. I don’t meet many people in my life who are willing to work so hard for nothing.”

Was he complimenting her? This was getting weirder and weirder.

“I can’t pay you any money.” He held up his hand before she could speak.

“I can’t have a hint of scandal attached to my name or the bank’s. And that private detective stationed outside my house is just waiting for me to screw up so he can notify RBB.” Aimee glanced at the window before she could stop herself, but of course, no one was standing right near the glass looking in.

“RBB? Is that the Royal Bank of Britain?”

He nodded. “That’s who has the business right now, and I’m positive they’ll do anything to keep it.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “So you’ll have to promise not to tell anyone about our little situation. If anyone asks, we’ll tell them that you’re a friend of my brother Blake, and you’re staying here until he gets back into town.”

Was he really letting her stay? He had stolen his phone to call the cops, but now he was proposing a compromise. “I didn’t even know you had a brother. What if someone asks me about him, or wants to know how we met?’

“I think he was in Las Vegas last year, so you could say you met him there. And he’s on holiday in St. Bart right now, so he’s not here to confirm or deny.”

She bit her lip, trying to look indecisive, but his idea was genius!

Although he didn’t know it, this was exactly what she needed to implement her plan. She was going to make it home–and in time for classes! “So what does your brother look like, in case anyone asks me about him?”

“Does that mean you’ll agree to this?”

“Absolutely.”

He stared at her. “Why do I think that you’ve agreed to this too easily?”

Aimee swallowed her excitement. “I’m relieved, that’s all.” She couldn’t even hint about her plan, because he’d kill her if he found out that she was using his kitchen for an illegal business. “I’m just glad to have a place to sleep at night. I’ll figure out my classes later. Who knows, maybe my professor will change his mind.”

He said nothing, just focused his laser-like gaze at her.

“What does your brother looks like?”

Some of the tension went out of his shoulders. “Imagine a taller version of my sister.”

She had never expected him to capitulate. And with a smile that nearly dropped her to her knees. “Why are you doing this?”

“It seems the best solution for both of us.” He looked to the side, as if he couldn’t decide whether or not to say more, but then he looked directly into her eyes, as if he’d made a decision. “I don’t know why, but I like you. Perhaps you remind me a little bit of myself, and I don’t want to see you thrown onto the street without any money or a place to stay. For some crazy reason, I trust you and don’t think you will go to the tabloids.” His eyes turned hard, as if commanding the attention of a room full of powerful people. “But if you were to betray me, believe me, I would make your life a living hell. You would only wish you had been left homeless on the street.” He stepped forward. “Do I make myself clear?”

She almost laughed. “I’m shaking in my boots,” she said.

His eyes widened. She was certain most people jumped to attention when he spoke like that, but she wasn’t most people, and he didn’t know that she had no intention of going to the tabloids, so his threat was meaningless.

“You agree to the terms?” he asked.