London Falling (20 page)

As if he sensed the change, he opened his mouth over hers and their kiss deepened. Time seemed to fly by at the same time it stopped, her every sense focused on the warm pressure of his lips. Simon propelled them backward and the backs of her knees hit the couch. When Simon followed her down and settled his weight between her legs, Aimee pulled his mouth back to her own.

She didn’t want to think, only feel.

She reached out to touch him, but her hand hit the barrier of cool wool.

She pushed him back a few inches and unbuttoned his coat, tugging it from his shoulders. He shrugged out of it, and then sat up, his knees holding his weight on either side of her. After pulling the zipper down on her ski jacket, he kissed her collarbone, and then proceeded to kiss every inch of her stomach as he inched up her sweater. It was freezing in the room.

She pulled his head back to hers and his body followed, warming her cool skin. He slid his hand along her ribs and cupped her breast through her bra. The sound of their breathing was amplified by the silence around them.

A little voice inside her head reminded her that she needed to stop this, but then he massaged her through the thin material, and her hips lifted in response. She felt him grow hard against her and all thought fled.

He pushed her sweater higher on her chest, revealing the clasp on her bra.

“Pink,” he said with a smile. “That’s unexpected.” He unhooked the clasp and skimmed the material over her sensitive skin, barely grazing her nipples as he shifted it out of the way. She skipped a breath.

He sat up, and cool air rushed between them, shocking her with reality.

She was lying on the couch with her winter coat on, her sweater shoved up to her armpits, and her bra tangled on her shoulders, while he still wore his suit jacket. He was gazing at her breasts.

It was high school all over again, except this time she knew she was only hurting herself. She had to cover herself back up.

“What?” he asked.

Tears built up behind her eyes. How could he read her so well? She barely knew her own feelings, yet he knew the exact second her emotions had changed. Pulling her sweater down for protection, she shifted backwards on the couch, and he adjusted his weight, although he still cocooned her legs between his knees.

“I can’t do this,” she said.

He gazed into her eyes for what seemed like hours. He nodded. Looked away and sighed. But then he returned his scrutiny to her eyes. “Why?”

Because last time, she’d been devastated, and it took years to get over the heartbreak. She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anyone in her entire life, so what would happen to her when this ended? And she wasn’t stupid enough to kid herself that this wouldn’t end. He didn’t really want her.

He just wanted a willing body. How many men had slept with Mom when she was drunker than dog, unshowered and smelling of beer and puke? Men didn’t care. She searched for an answer that would explain her trepidation, but not give him a reason to try to convince her to go through with it, because she wasn’t sure she could stand up to his persuasive skills. “Because I work for you.”

“Not really.”

“Close enough. And we live in two different countries. We’re from two different social classes. You don’t even like me all that much.”

A sound that was half groan and half laugh escaped his lips. He shook his head. “If anything, I like you too much.”

“You want me. There’s a big difference.”

He slid his arm along the back of the couch and he leaned toward her.

“Yes. I want you. Against all my better judgment, I want you.” If anything, he leaned closer, his expression becoming more intense, more serious. “But I like you too.”

“That’s just what men say when they want to get you into bed.”

“If they’re a teenage boy trying to seduce a girl, perhaps, but I’m a grown man. Not to sound conceited, but I do have options.” He paused. “And for some reason, the only person I want right now is you.” He sat up straight. “I like you, Aimee. I admire your determination, your strength and your compassion. I’ve been trying to tell myself that you’re off limits. That you work for me and sex between us would be completely forbidden. But you don’t work for me. Not really.”

He swung his legs to the floor and stood up next to the couch. “You’re right. This can’t go anywhere. There are too many differences between us. But sometimes sex is just supposed to be fun.” He braced his arms on the couch behind her and leaned in close. So close, she could see the shadow of his beard and his breath tickled her cheek. “You need more fun in your life.”

Aimee opened her mouth to respond, but he was already walking out the door, leaving her sitting on the couch with her bra still tangled underneath her armpits and no snide comeback.

Aimee stood in the shower and let the heat pound into her heavy limbs. She felt like road kill, left bloody and broken on a deserted highway as she watched the tail lights from Simon’s BMW speed away.

What was it about that man that left her feeling so exposed? It was as if he knew her innermost thoughts, the things that caused her the most pain, and he kept poking and poking and poking.

She knew she needed to open up and trust people. If anything, this debacle of a trip had only cemented the fact that she didn’t have close friends.

She hadn’t had close friends in a long time. As she pressed her palms against the pressure in her eyes, she let the water rush down her face. She knew she was screwed up–with the family she had, of course she was messed up–but she couldn’t seem to change, no matter how many psych classes she took, or how many self-help books she checked out of the library.

How had Simon picked up on her biggest weakness so quickly? You need to open up and trust people. It’s not going to kill you to accept help from someone. Easy for him to say.

It would have been so much better if she could hate him, but she couldn’t, not after everything he’d told her. For one moment, he’d dropped the facade and she saw through him to the man beneath, the one who was passionate about building a business and thrived on the risk. Why would he want to give up all that to get the royals’ business? To prove something to his father?

Or did it have something to do with his past? What made him think that his friends were only around because he had money? He was the type of person anyone would want on their side. Strong. Protective. Giving. Look at her–even when she wanted to hate him, she couldn’t.

How could you want to kill someone one minute and kiss them the next?

At least she knew it could never work out between them. They were from two different worlds, two different social classes, even two different continents. He would never want someone like her, and she couldn’t get involved if it wasn’t going to go anywhere. Hadn’t she watched her mom get hurt over and over as she’d thrown herself at another guy, only to be left in a puddle of drunken pain? Aimee couldn’t do that to herself.

“You need more fun in your life,” he’d said. She was tempted, more than she’d ever been in her entire life. When was the last time she just let loose and had fun? When was the last time she laughed? A real laugh, the kind that left your belly hurting and muscles loose.

She couldn’t remember.

And that made her feel even worse than she already did. She turned off the shower, stepped out of the tub and toweled off. She combed through the tangles in her hair. After slipping on her t-shirt and pajama bottoms, she curled up on the bed with Cupcake, who immediately started licking her wrist.

“You see, it’s too hard not to like you when you do that.” She moved her arm so she could scratch behind his ears. “I’m not even grossed out by you anymore.” He licked her leg where the pajama bottoms had risen up and exposed an inch of bare skin. “You shouldn’t put yourself out like that. You’re just going to get hurt when I leave.”

Could she be any more cynical? She flopped back on her pillows. She was just so tired. Tired of being strong. Tired of keeping it together. Maybe Simon was right. She did need more fun in her life.

She just couldn’t have fun with him.

Relief flooded his system as Simon rounded the corner. He’d found her, almost in the exact neighborhood as last night, but a few blocks down.

Preparing himself for the inevitable fight, he started down the alley to drag her home, at the same time some bloke walked up to her and handed her some money. She looked so happy and hopeful that his gut clenched. He didn’t want to be the one who drove that smile from her face. Again.

How many rules had he broken when the bank was dragging bottom?

Hell, he hadn’t even known the accounting rules when he did whatever he could to help bring the bank back to solvency. And it wasn’t as though his father had time to oversee him as he dealt with his own issues, such as making payroll without any money. Who was he to judge Aimee for doing whatever it took to get herself home?

He should just turn around and pretend he never saw her, but she was wearing that damn skirt hiked up to her armpits again and someone had to watch over her. Stepping off the curb, he slowly ambled over.

Her smile quickly disappeared. “I knew I should have picked somewhere else to set up camp tonight.”

“I take it you’re not planning on listening to me?”

“Can you please go away?”

“No.”

A couple stepped out of the pub and Aimee called out to them, “Do you guys want to buy a fairy cake? Only a pound.” The woman’s eyes widened when Aimee held the cake out to them. “It’s chocolate.”

The woman turned to her boyfriend. “Share one?” He nodded, stuck his hand in his front pocket, and handed Aimee a pound.

As they walked away, Aimee turned to Simon and furrowed her brows.

“Why didn’t you scare them away?” She looked adorable with her brow wrinkled and the tip of her nose red from the cold.

“Since there is no way I can stop you from selling the fairy cakes, I can at least protect you from anyone who decides to take advantage of you.”

She moved over to the box of fairy cakes near the wall. “I don’t need protection.” Pulling out another cake, she turned her attention to the pub entrance. “I don’t want protection.”

“Think of me as your banker, then. I’ll keep your money safe.” And you.

“You’re joking right?” The disbelief on her face was almost comical.

“You need protection.” She glared at him. “You do. Especially dressed like that and standing in front of a pub carrying cash.” He turned on the pressure. “What if you get caught? Do you know what that would do to me?”

“I wouldn’t turn you in,” she said quietly.

“I can keep an eye out for you and ensure you don’t get caught.”

She wrinkled her brow again.

Years ago, when Lucy had done that, his mother used to tell her that her face might freeze that way. He still missed her, after all these years, and it was so surprising that a random facial expression from Aimee could bring back the pain.

“I don’t understand what you’re up to,” Aimee said.

Was he that untrustworthy, or was it simply that Aimee couldn’t trust anyone? “I’m not up to anything.”

Disbelief, indecision, and exasperation flitted across her face. She didn’t have a choice, because he could stop this little operation at any second. “Fine.

Just don’t scare my customers away with your glowering face.”

Simon smiled. For once, he’d won.

Dottie tugged on the fabric of her black dress, which showed off every curve of her not-yet-toned-by-yoga body. She should have stuck to her navy suit. At least it was comfortable. And boring. No, she was right to try something new.

Now she just had to get through dinner with William, but the restaurant was fun and filled with young people out on the town so she could people watch when the conversation turned dull.

Where was he by the way? If William Elkington had stood her up, she’d never forgive him. Not that she was ever going to see him again after tonight.

She twisted her head to search the crowded entry and spotted him just walking through the door. Her nerves fluttered in her chest. And in other regions she dared not think about.

He spotted her and made his way through the crowd. “You look lovely,”

he said, after kissing her on both cheeks.

She tugged on the fabric again, wishing she weighed about two stone less, and then forced her hands to remain at her sides. It was simply nerves.

There was no way she was attracted to William Elkington. No way at all.

“Hello, William.”

“Our table isn’t quite ready. Should we get a drink?”

She nodded and refused to react when he touched her elbow to guide her to the bar on the side of the restaurant. He was taller than she remembered.

And firmer.

“What will you have?” he asked, leaning down so he could hear her answer.

She generally only drank white wine. In moderation. “A Cosmo.” Wasn’t that what the women in Sex and the City always drank?

William motioned to the harried bartender, who immediately came over and took their order. How did he do that? Gordy certainly never had that talent. How many times had she sat forever waiting for a drink while everyone else got served? Although it was usually because Gordy had got sidetracked by another conversation at the bar.

William handed her the Cosmo, and held onto his own drink. Vodka?

Gin? “To reconnecting,” he said, before raising his glass toward hers.

Now why did that sound like a sexual come-on? What was wrong with her tonight? “To, uh, reconnecting.” She tasted her drink and almost spit it back in the glass. Good gracious that was terrible! Instead of being sweet and fruity like the pink color suggested, it tasted like straight alcohol.

“Do you want me to order you something else?” William asked.

“Oh, no. This is delicious.” She raised the glass for a large sip. William looked amused. She sipped again and tried not to spit it back in the glass.

“I wish you had let me pick you up this evening,” he said.

“I took a cab from Simon’s.”

“How is Simon?”

“I don’t actually know. He was out when I arrived this evening.” She responded to William’s confused look by adding, “I have a key to his house.