Fired by Her Fling

Lu did the same with her wine, the large glass looking enormous in her dinky hand.

‘I see they do wine by the pint here,’ he said, nodding towards the glass. ‘That drink’s almost as big as you are.’

He caught a flash of what looked like startled irritation before she converted it to wry amusement. ‘Yeah, well, you get quality with me, not quantity,’ she said, a steely edge creeping into her voice. ‘And I thought real men drank beer from pint glasses, not namby-pamby little bottles.’ She flashed him a disparaging grin.

He raised an amused eyebrow back. He’d annoyed her, he could tell, but she wasn’t making an excuse and moving away—she was taking him on.

The woman had grit by the truckload.

He liked that about her. He liked it a lot.

In fact, now he thought about it, she was the first woman to pique his interest since Marcy had left him.

Taking a step towards him, Lu looked up directly into his face, her gaze roaming over his hair, his eyes, snagging on his mouth.

There was something in her expression that made his libido sit up and take notice. He smiled, feeling the intensity of their attraction heat his blood.

Something akin to determination was playing across her face, as if she was having some sort of internal fight with herself.

Intriguing.

He narrowed his eyes. ‘Should I be worried here? Do you have an insanely jealous lover who’s about to storm over and demand I step outside or something? Only you seem to be arguing with yourself about the wisdom of speaking to me.’

She let out a deep guttural laugh, the dirty carnal suggestion of it playing along his senses, making something fizz and tickle deep in his throat.

He swallowed hard.

‘I’m freshly out of a disastrous fling with someone who couldn’t care less about me, actually. I seem to have a knack for choosing losers and users.’ She swayed in towards him. ‘What is it about me that screams sucker, do you think, Tristan?’

He knew he shouldn’t articulate what had just flitted through his mind, but there was something about her beleaguered expression that made it impossible to resist.

‘From where I’m standing, sucker is a word full of possibilities.’ His gaze dropped to that smooth, curvy pout of hers as it twisted into a smile and he saw her shift in her heels as she twigged exactly what he was insinuating.

Lu turned away from his gaze and took another hefty swig of her wine before placing the glass carefully back onto the bar, her fingertips catching the stem at the last second so that it spun and rocked for a moment before settling down to its former inanimate state. The spots of colour on her cheeks flared further outwards.

Was she nervous? Or excited by the idea?

He realised with uncomfortable certainty that he hoped it was the latter.

Whoa, boy. Put the brakes on that impulse.

Chatting to a woman in a bar was one thing, but taking it further wasn’t on the agenda right now.

Was it?

‘You celebrating something?’ he said, nodding towards the huddle of women at the table she’d just vacated in an attempt to take the charged atmosphere down a notch or two.

‘A friend’s birthday. We both work round the corner so this is our after-work local.’ Something troubling seemed to occur to her and she frowned and picked up her glass again, taking another large gulp of wine. After giving herself a little shake, she flashed him a wide smile.

‘How about you? What are you doing here all on your lonesome?’ She made another move towards him, drawing herself up to her full height and putting out an arm to casually lean on the bar, bringing her tantalising floral fragrance with her.

He drew in a deep lungful of her heady scent and smiled down at her. ‘I ducked in here to avoid being mauled by a woman with a hungry look in her eyes.’

She looked at him steadily. ‘She fancied a slice of you, did she?’

‘I got that impression, yes.’

‘And you didn’t feel like being her Tristan Topping tonight?’

He laughed. ‘Or any other night.’

She swallowed and stared somewhere to the left side of his head before flicking her gaze back to his. There was a flash of something he couldn’t quite pin down in those baby-blues.

She was one contrary lady. One minute cool and assertive, buying him a drink, the next uncertain and wary.

He’d not come across someone like Lu for a very long time. Since splitting with Marcy he’d only seemed to meet women who had formed hard, flawless shells around themselves, who gave him a perfectly polished response every time—who thought they were giving him what he wanted, when actually he was repelled by their phoniness.

But this woman had something about her that he couldn’t bear to step away from just yet.

She was too damn interesting.

* * *

Pull yourself together, you lunatic.

Lula turned away from the disconcertingly gorgeous man in front of her and glanced over to where her party sat laughing at something Emily had said. Her friend was standing and waving her arms around in an approximation of sexual fervour in her typical crowd-pleasing style.

Em would know exactly what to say to a guy like this, and she certainly wouldn’t have made a total fool of herself by coughing all over him.

He’d taken her by surprise, rocking up to the bar before she could formulate a plan about how best to approach him, and she’d been totally unprepared for the immediate visceral effect he’d had on her.

He wasn’t the type of man she’d usually go for—he was scarily charismatic and his powerful virility and snappy smartness gave her the jitters. He was just so chiselled and smooth-looking with his Roman nose and intelligent, rich brown eyes that sparked with amusement behind a pair of those trendy rectangular-framed ‘invisible’ glasses.

He was totally business.

She had a mad urge to mess with his neatly swept back hair, to ruffle him up a bit and see the raw side of the man concealed beneath the sharply tailored suit.

Blood throbbed through her veins as she entertained the impulse.

She felt slightly bad about not correcting him when he’d asked if her name was short for Louise, but it had occurred to her that she could pretend to be someone else entirely tonight and it wouldn’t matter a jot. She’d never see him again, so why not fully step into the persona she wanted to project? A fake name was a great way to do that, and it wasn’t as if anyone was going to get hurt.

Looking back at him, she realised he was frowning down at her as if trying to figure out what the heck was going through her head. He must think she was a total simpleton, first rambling on about her failed relationships, then suggesting he wasn’t a real man and now staring around like a vacant airhead.

Gah.

After taking one more bolstering swig of wine, she turned to regain eye contact and gave him her most seductive smile.

‘So what made you pick this particular pub for a refuge from the man-eater?’ she asked.

He shrugged and twisted his beer bottle between his fingers. ‘I’m staying in the hotel across the road and this looked like a suitably dark and shady place to hide.’

‘So you don’t live in London?’ That was good. It meant they were unlikely to ever bump into each other again.

Unless they wanted to?

That’s not on the agenda tonight, Lula, get a grip.

Tristan shook his head and frowned. ‘I’m based in Edinburgh.’

‘I’ve never been there. I hear it’s a really cool place.’

‘It is.’

‘So what brings you this far south?’ she asked.

‘Business. I had a meeting in Canary Wharf today and I have something to do for my father tomorrow.’ His voice had become rougher, as if he was uncomfortable—or maybe bored—talking about it.

Lula nodded and smiled, attempting to hide her anxiety. Her radio training told her she needed to latch onto a more interesting topic of conversation or she was going to lose him.

‘So is it true that men who wear glasses make better lovers?’ She cringed inside, amazed at the guff that came out of her mouth in times of stress.

He let out a startled guffaw. ‘That’s not one I’ve heard before, but since I fit firmly into that category I’m going to say yes.’

She smiled, happy not to have been slapped down and amazed to feel the atmosphere begin to zing between them again.

May as well go with it.

‘I think it has something to do with losing one of your senses when you take your glasses off—your eyesight, obviously, in this instance—which makes you work harder with your sense of touch.’

He dipped his head in mirth. ‘That sounds like a load of gobbledegook to me, but I’m willing to go with it if it makes you believe I’ll be better in bed than my non-bespectacled rivals.’

‘Oh, I have no doubt you are,’ Lu said, the heat in her cheeks intensifying as she struggled to maintain flirty eye contact.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Emily making her way over to where they stood at the bar and primed herself for whatever might happen next.

Everything about her friend shouted Look at me!, from her abundance of blonde-tipped, chocolate-coloured curls and large golden eyes to her curvy statuesque figure.

She struck people.

And she made things happen—it was what made her such a successful TV presenter. Normally Lula loved that about her, but right now she needed to be allowed to handle this situation with Tristan without Em’s dominating personality muscling in.

‘So, Lu, I guess you’re not coming to the next pub with us then?’ Emily said as she approached, widening her eyes and unsubtly twitching her head towards Tristan.

‘Er, no. I don’t think so,’ Lula said, hoping her face didn’t look as flushed as it felt.

Emily nodded, narrowing her eyes at Tristan. ‘Hold this for me, will you?’ she said, thrusting her drink at him.

He took it from her and watched in apparent amusement as she rummaged in her bag for something.

‘Do me a favour, take a sip of that and tell me if you think it’s gin or vodka they’ve put in there. I think it’s gin, but the barman swears it’s vodka,’ Emily said, her head still in her bag.

Tristan took a small sip. ‘Definitely not gin,’ he said.

Em pulled her phone out of her bag and took a quick snap of Tristan with the camera on it. Before he had chance to ask her what she was doing, she wrapped a tissue around her hand and took her glass from him.

‘Thanks. Right, well, you look after my friend here, because if you attempt anything she doesn’t like I have your picture, fingerprints and DNA and I will not hesitate to hand them over to the police. Consider yourself warned.’

‘Jeez, Emily, leave the poor guy alone,’ Lula said, rolling her eyes at her friend, hoping to God Tristan would see the funny side. When she turned to give him an apologetic smile she was relieved to find he was smiling, albeit in a rather bemused way.

‘Okay, I’m backing away now,’ Emily sang out. ‘I’ll leave you in Lu’s capable hands,’ she said, giving Tristan a salacious wink.

Lula’s insides shrivelled in mortification.

Leaning in, Emily gave her a tight hug, whispering, ‘You go, girl. Show this guy who’s boss,’ into Lu’s ear before flashing them both a wicked grin and hurrying off.

TWO

He stayed talking with her for another hour after her crazy friend had left, enjoying her company more and more as she seemed to relax with him.

They chatted about everything and nothing; he teased her about her love of nineties music, which she countered by turning her nose up at his obsession with trad jazz. They discussed their favourite books from childhood, his passion for following Formula One racing and her seemingly encyclopaedic knowledge of art-house films.

Despite her reluctance to leave with her friends, Tristan had a strong suspicion that picking up random guys in a pub wasn’t Lu’s usual modus operandi. There was something too reserved about her to make him believe she did this kind of thing on a regular basis. He loved the fact she was clearly making a special effort for him—he hadn’t felt that wanted in a while—but unfortunately it pointed towards the possibility that she’d expect more from this encounter than he was able to give.

She was a sexy and engaging woman and he could imagine she’d be incredible in bed but he probably shouldn’t push for anything to happen between them.

He didn’t do one-night stands. And he didn’t need any complications while he was here. As soon as this radio station mess was resolved he’d be on the first plane back to Edinburgh—back to running the family business that his father had now totally lost interest in.

He drained the last of his third bottle of beer. ‘I should probably go,’ he said gently.

The look of bewildered disappointment, which she quickly forced into an unconcerned smile, made his heart do a slow dive. She clearly didn’t want this encounter to end and, if he was totally honest, neither did he.

‘No problem,’ she said, knocking back the last of her wine and placing the glass onto the bar.

He noticed, with a jolt of surprise, that her hand seemed to be trembling.

‘I really should get going too. Things to do tomorrow.’ She gave him a false bright smile.

‘Are you going to catch up with your friends?’

‘Nah. I don’t think I should drink any more.’

He nodded. ‘Very sensible.’

Huffing out a laugh, she swept her hand through her heavy blunt-cut fringe. ‘That’s me, Level-headed Louise.’ She slung her bag across her shoulder and straightened her top. Looking back up at him, she cracked a rueful smile. ‘I’ll walk out with you.’

They exited into the cool spring London air, the fume-filled, peppery scents of the city twanging at his senses.

He was painfully aware of her there next to him and acutely conscious that once she walked away the chances of ever seeing her again were practically non-existent. It seemed such a pity when there was such intense chemistry between them.

They came to a stop outside the pub and he put a hand onto her shoulder, feeling the silky material of her top slip beneath his fingers. Her skin was warm beneath his touch and he wanted to leave it there, revelling in the delicate heat of her for a while longer.

She looked up at him questioningly, her bright, open gaze drawing him in deeper. He was utterly mesmerised by the sweet, vulnerable expression on her face.

Neither of them moved as they gazed into each other’s eyes, caught in an inexplicable connective tension that made it impossible for him to turn away from her. This had never happened to him before—this strange, undeniable pull—and it made him weirdly nervous.

He finally found his voice. ‘Look, Lu, I think you’re a very attractive woman and far be it from me to deny you the chance to find out whether your theory about men with glasses is correct, but I should probably do the gentlemanly thing and flag you down a cab.’

‘Yeah, that would be the sensible thing to do,’ she murmured in that tormenting voice of hers, still looking him dead in the eye.

Something tugged low and hard, deep in his pelvis. Ah, boy, it was going to be painfully difficult to walk away from her and go back to his cold, empty hotel room when she was looking at him like that. He wanted to gather her in to him and kiss the life out of her. To lose himself in her warmth, to forget about all the responsibilities that waited for his attention in the real world.

‘I’ve really enjoyed meeting you tonight,’ he said, his voice coming out husky and rough.

Her smile was faltering. ‘It was lovely to meet you too.’ Putting both hands on his chest, she pressed them into him, as if attempting to osmose her sincerity, digging her fingertips gently into his pecs.

His body gave a disturbing throb as everything from his taste buds to the soles of his feet responded to her. Taking a deep breath and putting his hands over the top of hers, he tilted his head in a show of regret. ‘In another universe we’d have an amazing night together.’

She pinched her eyebrows together, her voluptuous mouth turning down at the corners, and took her hands away, dropping them to her sides.

The loss of her touch disturbed him more than it should have.

‘You don’t have a girlfriend, do you? Or a wife?’ The idea seemed to horrify her. It horrified him too. He was never getting married. Not when he’d repeatedly seen how miserable it could make you.

Shaking his head, he gave Lu an amused smile. ‘Neither. But I have a lot of work to do tonight.’ It sounded so pathetic when he said it out loud. Was he really going to work instead of spending more time with this fascinating, capricious woman?

He took a breath, aware she was looking at him with justifiable scepticism. ‘The thing is, I’m only here in London—’ But he didn’t get to finish his sentence because she reached up to lay one of her small, cool hands against his neck and draw his head down to her lush, waiting mouth.

Her lips were warm and soft against his and he closed his eyes reflexively, drinking in the erotic intimacy of her touch. Barely a second later she drew back and he blinked his eyes open and stared at her, taking in her own surprise at the unexpectedly audacious action.

‘I just needed to do that,’ she whispered in that taunting voice of hers.

All the arguments that had previously filtered through his mind evaporated into the sultry night air along with his resolve as he lost the tenuous grip on his control. Moving quickly towards her, he recaptured her soft, wine-scented mouth with his.

She let out a deep, low moan in the back of her throat, the sexy desperation of it nearly undoing him and he darted his tongue into her mouth, tasting the sweetness of her.

He stopped her from stumbling backwards by putting his hands on her hips and pulling her roughly towards him, pressing their bodies close together. She responded by sliding her arms around his waist and kissing him back with a ferocity that made his whole body tighten with lust.

A pulse-quickening notion of what could happen if they didn’t stop this ran through his head: him leading her back to his hotel across the road, them kissing fiercely in the elevator as they travelled up to the fourth floor, stumbling into his room, already tugging each other’s clothes off as they tried to make it to the bed before they lost all control and ended up in a sweaty, writhing mess on the floor.

He could see it all unfold—practically taste it—but he shouldn’t let that happen.

Should he?

She slipped her hands under his jacket and dragged her nails down his back, leaving tingling lines of sensation across his skin.

His body responded immediately and she gasped against his mouth as his arousal made itself known between the press of their bodies.

She ground herself harder against him, her soft, flowery scent pummelling his senses, and he wondered hazily why exactly he thought it was a good idea to stop this. Work and a failed relationship weren’t decent enough excuses to ruin a perfectly good opportunity for one night of pleasure with a beautiful stranger; a stranger currently intent on seducing him with her cool wandering hands and small muffled moans of pleasure.

He could really use some light relief from the soberness of his life right now.

Sod it. He wanted this. She clearly wanted this. It was happening.

* * *

Lula barely took in the luxury of her surroundings as Tristan guided her into his hotel room, continuing the mind-blowing kiss they’d been unable to resist in the elevator on their way up there.

She could hardly believe this was happening, but she was mightily glad it was. The alcohol had given her wings and when he’d looked at her with such heat in his eyes she’d not been able to stop herself from reaching up and kissing him.

She’d never felt so attractive, so desired before and the thought of walking away from that feeling had been unimaginable.

Clearly it had been for him too, because he’d responded immediately to her brazen gesture, dragging her against his rock-hard body in a possessive gesture that made her feel so wanted.

That was the moment that undid her—when every other thought and consideration flew right out of her head and all her nerves and reticence disappeared in a puff of lust.

There was something so freeing about letting herself go with him—about not worrying what he thought of her as she ran her hands all over his body, or made the low breathy sounds that came from deep within her throat.

For the first time in a long time she felt empowered and sexy and alive.

She needed this right now. So badly.

Raising her arms, she let him drag her top up over her head and drop it on the floor by their feet, moving swiftly round to fiddle with the clasp of her bra until it pinged loose and he discarded that too.

‘You have magnificent breasts, Louise,’ he growled, dropping to his knees and taking one of her nipples into his mouth, tugging on it gently with his teeth before swirling his tongue around the swollen areola.

She only just stopped herself from correcting him on her name as sensational pleasure ripped through her body, centring where his mouth locked against her breast, his lips and teeth teasing at her skin.

Louise was her name tonight. Louise was a beguiling, sexually assertive woman she didn’t recognise, but tonight she was going to possess her body and mind for her own pure, selfish pleasure.

Skimming his hands round from where they rested on her hips, Tristan fiddled with the button of her jeans until they popped open and he was able to ease down the zip and slide the heavy material down her legs to the floor. He helped her step out of her heels, looking up and flashing her such a sensual smile that her whole body gave a throb of longing.

Grasping his head in her hands, she drew him upwards, back to standing so she could kiss him hard. She needed to even things up here, to give as well as take, before she lost her nerve.

‘I want to feel you—against me,’ she muttered against his mouth.

She felt him smile, and the next second she was left gaping in a chasm of cool air as he stepped back to yank off his tie, then pull his shirt—still buttoned—over his head.

Dropping them onto the floor, he gave her a teasing come-hither look and she stepped forwards to put the palms of her trembling hands against the amazing honed plane of his chest.

Her breath caught in her throat as she fully took in the hard contours of his body.

He definitely worked out.

‘I’ve never seen a six-pack in real life before,’ she said, glancing up at him and attempting to smile without looking like a total goof.

He was staring down at her, the heat and intensity of his arousal plain in his eyes.

Her stomach did a disconcerting swoop.

‘Come here.’ He dragged her against him and their bodies clashed and melded together, the heat of his bleeding into hers in glorious waves.

Then his mouth was hot and hard on hers again, his tongue darting into her mouth, tickling her sensitised lips and sweeping her teeth, probing and pushing, deeper and more insistently than before.

She wanted that tongue on her skin. Everywhere.

But first she was going to give him a taste of his own delicious medicine.

It took a moment of fumbling before she managed to open the clasp of his trousers, but then she was free to slide them down his muscular legs. He toed off his shoes and she watched him quickly discard the rest of his clothes until he towered over her totally naked, looking like some biologically perfect specimen of man.

His hair was mussed now where she’d run her hands through it and his glasses glinted in the soft light of the lamp he’d left on. There was something obscenely hot about him wearing only a pair of glasses and a grin and she shivered in lust-fuelled anticipation.

Pushing him against the wall, she ran her hands all over the hard contours of his chest, taking in the defined lines of his muscles and the contrasting soft sleekness of his skin. The naked power of him made her faintly jittery, but she knew she was safe with him.