Perfect Stranger
Authors: Sofia Grey
Perfect Stranger
Sofia Grey
This book is a work of fiction.
While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by Sofia Grey
All Rights Reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Manufactured in the United States of America
Acelette Press
Kate’s having the birthday from hell. A sadistic boss and rumors of a corporate takeover threatening her handpicked team are bad enough, but then her car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. In a monsoon.
A one-night stand with the delicious Jordan Merrill is probably not her best idea, but it's far more appealing than room service and pay-per-view. Like Cinderella, she runs away from the best night of her life, but instead of leaving a glass slipper, she drops her business card.
Like Prince Charming, Jordan isn’t satisfied with just one night, though he and Kate live hundreds of miles apart.
Kate's worked hard to reach her senior management position, and she knows a long-distance relationship is impossible, even if she falls in love with Jordan. He wants to promise her a happily ever after, but is she ready to throw away her career for him?
Huge thanks go to my Acelette partners.
To Allyson for her helping me polish my rough first draft into a shiny finished story. And to Sotia for her gorgeous cover, and incredibly detailed edits.
Thanks also to the people who read this as an early draft, and told me they loved it. Your encouragement was much appreciated.
* ~ *
Thanks also to Sam – the inspiration behind Kate.
Table of Contents
She was the hottest woman I’d ever seen. Was it the way her sheer top clung to the lacy bra underneath, putting every curve on show? Or how her dark eyes flashed fury when she noticed me staring?
“Yes?” she snapped. Code for
what-the-fuck-d’you-think-you’re-doing
?
I felt scorched from the blast. And intrigued. Her short, dark hair wasn’t just slicked back; it was wet. It dripped onto the blouse, making it transparent.
I dragged my gaze back to her face. The sharp cheekbones gave her a haughty appearance, and she looked out of place in the modern hotel lobby. I could imagine her as an Earl’s daughter, in a BBC period drama, elegant and unfazed by whatever had befallen her, as she ordered her servants around.
Good manners nudged me to ask if I could help, but before I wrestled my voice under control, she slapped the counter.
“I need to speak to your supervisor.” A quiver ran down her spine when she addressed the hotel receptionist, and I realized she was shivering. It was raining hard at the moment, but she looked as though someone had dumped a pail of water over her.
The girl behind the counter scuttled away, and the woman sagged. I shrugged out of my suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “You probably need this more than I do.”
She stiffened, and then slowly turned to face me. Confusion filled her brown eyes, and a pink flush lined her cheeks. “I should be fine. When they eventually find my room, that is.” She hesitated, her gaze now fixed somewhere near my shoes. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I’d spent the evening so far listening to my beloved cousin, Louisa, who poured out her heart to me. I escaped to my hotel, with the intention of pursuing nothing more demanding than a stiff malt whisky—not rescuing this delicious damsel in distress. There was no reason to stay, and yet I didn’t walk away. “Can I help with anything?” I asked.
This drew a hint of a smile. She tugged my jacket tight over her chest and met my eyes. “You’re very kind, but I’ll be fine. Thank you.” She glanced at the counter. At the receptionist, approaching. “How do I find you, to give your jacket back?”
It was my turn to smile. “Room five-zero-six.”
I waited until she had a pass card in her hand, and then I headed for my own room and the stack of email needing my attention.
As I sat at the desk, scrolling through messages, my mind drifted back to the beauty in the lobby. Something about her drew me, and it wasn’t just the outline of her pert breasts. Marcus, my closest friend, would say I needed to get laid, and he’d be right. How long since I cut loose and had a fling? Had I ever?
For once, it was an effort to drag my focus back to work and to the last minute preparation for the conference kicking off in the morning.
* * * *
Coming back to my room from the on-site gym, the next morning I saw my jacket hanging neatly from the door handle. She was an early riser. Perhaps I’d see her at breakfast. I hurried through my shower, dressed in my usual business suit, and then headed for the dining room. Sure enough, I saw her there, picking through the cereal options. Hungry after my workout, I placed an order for a full cooked meal and claimed a table in a sunny window alcove.
She looked immaculate today. Crisp white shirt and a knee length skirt that gave me a great view of her legs. Not that I was staring. I should be focused on the conference or Louisa and her problems, or the multitude of responsibilities heaped upon me, but I tuned them all out.
I flicked through email on my phone but kept the beauty in my peripheral vision while I waited for her to choose a table.
Lost in thought, she could’ve walked past without seeing me, if I hadn’t stood as she approached. “Good morning,” I said, noting the surprise that flitted across her face. “Join me for breakfast?”
She hesitated, then flashed me a quick smile, her face lighting up. Sexy little dimples flickered in her cheeks. Damn, she was pretty. “I will. Thank you.” She sat on the chair I pulled out, before focusing on me. “And thanks again for the loan of the jacket last night. I didn’t realize until I finally got to my room that my top was see through.” She pursed her lips in a grimace.
What could I say, without sounding like a jerk? The waiter arriving with coffee pots was a good distraction, and I took the opportunity to compose myself. The woman might be a customer or a supplier. Mixing business with pleasure was a red flag in my book, but there was an easy way to find out. “You here for the conference?” I asked.
“No. I’m here on business.”
Okay. That was a good start. I held out a hand. “This is probably the time to introduce myself. Jordan Merrill.”
The smile returned, and she took my hand and gave it a firm squeeze before releasing me. “Kate Archer.”
“Looked as though you were having a bad day yesterday.”
Her face fell at my words, and she looked away, into the distance. She closed her fingers around the coffee cup and drew the drink toward her. “You don’t know the half of it,” she murmured, almost to herself. There was a pause, and then she huffed out a quick breath. “My rental car broke down about a mile away. I couldn’t get a signal on my cellphone, and I ended up walking here. In the rain.” She curved her lips briefly. “I didn’t bring a coat, and didn’t want to ruin my suit jacket, since I’d need it today, so I took a chance on the rain easing.”
I recalled the downpour. “It didn’t.”
“Nope. And then the desk couldn’t find my booking. Apparently my assistant didn’t confirm the reservation, and with the conference here, they didn’t think there were rooms left. They found one, eventually.” She shrugged. “It could have been worse. My shoes are ruined, but I can slip out at lunchtime and get some more.” She took a sip of her drink, peeping over the top of the cup. “That’s enough of my whining. You have a gorgeous accent. Where are you from?”
She liked my accent? “I’m from Houston, Texas.” I let my natural drawl seep in. “Although I mostly live in London now.”
“I hope I’m not being rude, but you sound as though you should be in a cowboy movie. Not working in the Smoke.”
I recognized the slang name for London. “I suppose I could commute on horseback, but cabs are more convenient.” Was I flirting? I never flirted.
She giggled. “Don’t wreck my fantasy.”
The waiter chose that moment to deliver my breakfast, and Kate stared at the full plate of food. “My cereal looks tame in comparison.”
I pushed the freshly filled toast rack toward her. “Would you like some? There’s plenty.” My phone buzzed with a text, and I checked before I slid it into my pocket. “One of my colleagues. He’ll be fine for a few minutes, while we eat.”
The spell was broken, though. Kate stared at the muesli and pushed the grains around the bowl. Her brows tugged together, a worry line creasing her smooth forehead. “I need to be going. I’ve a busy schedule this morning.” She stood, drained her coffee, and gave me a polite smile. “Have a good day.”
I stood too, good manners ingrained from childhood. “You too. I hope today is a better day.”
She laughed, but it sounded forced. “I hope so, too. It’s my birthday.”
Before I could say anything, she sighed and lifted her phone to her ear. “Kate Archer.” She nodded to me as she walked away, and I resumed my breakfast and tried to focus on work.
The conference would open in a little under two hours. I had to open the proceedings, introduce the key speakers, and then network with all the high-powered clients and vendors alike. I could do this in my sleep, and that was just as well. My mind kept veering back to Kate.
I never chased women, and I didn’t have time for dating, but I couldn’t help wondering if she’d be here again tonight? And if she was, would I do anything about it?