Blame it on the Bikini Read online

  ‘Go now.’ He nodded. ‘Pete and I can handle it.’

  She grabbed the oversized ancient laptop she always lugged round in her satchel all day and took it out to the small balcony Brad had led her to the other night. She didn’t really know why she’d brought it with her—it wasn’t as if she’d somehow type on her feet as she worked her shifts at the café and then the bar.

  Her heart sank as she scrolled to the relevant document. The cases were all cited, but she’d have to try to get copies of them to read them in full. What library was going to be open at midnight? She didn’t have the Internet in her small flat as she couldn’t afford the connection. She didn’t even have a landline. She’d have to go to a twenty-four-hour café with wireless access and try to do it from there. Downloading fifteen cases? Oh, she was screwed.

  She’d hardly started the first paragraph when Drew came out and caught her hunched over at a corner table.

  ‘You can’t sit there studying. This is a bar, not a library,’ he grumbled. ‘It’s not the right look.’

  It was the last thing she needed—her control-freak, this-place-must-maintain-its-cool-image boss coming down on her.

  ‘It’s my break—surely I can read?’ She looked up at him. Didn’t he get how desperate she was?

  ‘Not there, you can’t,’ Drew informed her coolly.

  To her horror, tears were a mere blink away. She shut her laptop and stood. Swatting up screeds of legalese in the dark alley outside didn’t inspire her but if that was what she had to do, she’d do it. It was going to be an all nighter anyway. Followed by the brunch shift at the café tomorrow. How could she have screwed everything up—again?

  She walked out past the queue forming at the door and into the night, desperate despite the fact she’d only have a few minutes at most before Drew hunted her out. While the summer sun’s heat still warmed the air, it was now dark. Hooray for the safety torch on her keychain; she’d be able to read the fine-print text on the step at the back entrance of the bar.

  ‘Big essay?’ Brad had followed her, gazing at the ancient computer in her hand.

  She nodded glumly, her stomach knotting again. ‘Due tomorrow and I’ve not done it and I don’t have half the case law I need,’ she confessed.

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  She winced. Did he have to hammer home her incompetence? ‘I need to read up.’ In other words, she needed him to go back inside and keep chatting to those women.

  ‘How long’s your break?’

  ‘Twenty minutes.’

  ‘You can’t possibly concentrate here.’ He frowned at the giant recycling bin into which they threw all the empty bottles. Yeah, the sound of smashing glass was regular and went well with that thudding bass beat coming through the brick walls of the converted warehouse.

  ‘I can concentrate anywhere.’ If she had the info she needed.

  ‘And do an assignment in twenty minutes? You might be brilliant, Mya, but you’re not a magician.’ He frowned. ‘How come you don’t have the case law?’

  ‘I did an extra shift at the café today,’ she said. ‘I forgot about the assignment.’

  ‘You have too much on.’

  ‘Yes, so I need to work now,’ she said pointedly. But he didn’t take the hint. Instead he cocked his head and came over all thoughtful.

  ‘I’ve got access to all the legal databases. Including the subscription ones at my place,’ he said.

  The ones that cost money to print each article from? The ones that held the case law she hadn’t been able to download because she’d done the extra shift at the café? The ones she couldn’t get to because the libraries were closed at this time of night?

  He pondered another moment. ‘Skip your break and ask Jonny to cover the last of your shift. You know he’ll do it. He owes you for setting up alone tonight. Come home with me. You can print off all you need and work all night.’ He stepped closer, pressing the best point, decisive. ‘I’ll help you.’

  She folded her arms, using her laptop as body armour, mainly to hide the way her thundering heart was threatening to beat its way right out of her chest. ‘This isn’t a family law assignment.’ She tried to play it cool and not collapse in a heap of gratitude at his feet. Or a heap of lustful wishes.

  ‘I covered commercial in my degree too, you know. You’re not the only one with dibs on brilliance. I got straight As.’

  Of course he did; he was that perfect. And she wasn’t. She no longer had the brilliant label at law school. She shook her head. ‘I can’t cheat.’

  ‘You’re not going to,’ he growled. Stepping close, he put his hands on her shoulders. ‘I’m not going to write the assignment for you,’ he said firmly, as if she were a kid who had to have the simplest thing explained to her twenty different ways. ‘Consider me your law librarian.’

  Mya just stared. Feeling the warmth from his firm hands, and seeing his fit frame up close, she felt as if he were like an ad for all-male capability and virility. He was also the least likely librarian she could ever imagine.

  He laughed and stepped closer. ‘I used to work in the law library as a student. I’m very good at searches.’

  ‘You never worked as a librarian.’ That she just didn’t believe.

  ‘Okay, library assistant,’ he clarified, all humble integrity mixed with that killer charm. ‘Great job to have as a student.’ His wicked grin bounced back. ‘I got to meet all the cute girls, and their names and addresses were all on there on the system already.’

  ‘So you abused your position?’ Mya drawled, trying to cover the way she wanted to abuse his closeness now and lean against him.

  ‘You’re accusing me of wrongdoing?’ He shook her and she nearly stumbled that last step right into his arms. ‘How come you’re so down on me? All I’m trying to do is offer you a little help.’

  She kept her balance. She didn’t like having to accept help.

  ‘Just some space and some computer access.’ He held out the offer as if it were as innocent as a plate of homemade cookies.

  While access to those databases would be awesome, what she really couldn’t resist this second was his charm. ‘Okay, I really appreciate it,’ she breathed out in a rush. ‘But I don’t want to put you out.’

  ‘You’re not putting me out.’ He let go of her shoulders and turned to walk back down the alley. ‘And I promise I won’t bother you.’

  He didn’t have to do anything to bother her. He only had to exist. And the nearer he was, the worse it was. But she was just going to have to control that silly part of her body because she had an essay to write.

  ‘Relax and go finish your shift,’ he said, leading her past the queue and back into the crowded bar. ‘You’ll get the info you need and you’ve got all night to nail it.’

  Yeah, but it wasn’t the assignment she was thinking of nailing.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  AS MYA went back to mixing concoctions behind the bar, she surreptitiously watched Brad head back to the three beautiful women. Okay, so he was just helping her out with her schoolwork. There was nothing more to his offer. That was fine, perfect in fact. Then a couple of his mates turned up and he introduced the babes to them. Then—Mya couldn’t help but notice—Brad stepped back from the conversation. And every time she glanced over—purely to see if their glasses needed refilling, of course—he was watching her. Time and time again their gazes met. And the thing was, he wasn’t even giving her the full maple-syrup look, but it had the same effect anyway.

  Yeah, she still wasn’t over the fact that he was the hottest man she’d ever laid eyes on. It seemed there was a part of her that would always want him, no matter what else she had going on or how much of a player he was.

  And had he made the computer-access offer to win her over and into his bed? Possibly. Did that matter? Not really. Because she wouldn’t be sleeping in his bed. She’d be getting her assignment written.

  It was just before 1:00 a.m. before she could get away—early, as Brad had suggested. Bra
d’s two mates and the three babes had already left the bar, so he was waiting alone, having swapped from drinking beer to soda water hours ago. He straightened from the wall he was leaning against as she neared, her heavy satchel over her shoulder.

  ‘Your place is really only a few minutes away?’ she asked, determined to stay matter-of-fact and not crawl up against him and beg him to take her to bed and have his wicked way with her so she’d mindlessly fall into sleep the way she ached to.

  He nodded.

  Sure enough, just down the road and around the corner from the row of eclectic shops and bars in the more ‘alternative’ area of town was a street of small, old villas. Every single one of them had been stylishly renovated and looked gorgeous and no doubt cost a mint.

  ‘Why do you live here?’ It was nothing like the exclusive suburb in which he’d grown up with the massive modern houses and immaculate lawns.

  ‘I like the mix in the neighbourhood.’ He shrugged. ‘Lots of good restaurants nearby and it’s central.’

  ‘You don’t cook?’

  ‘Not often,’ he admitted with a flash of a smile.

  She waited by the potted rosebush on the wooden veranda while he unlocked the villa and put in the code for the security system. And she knew he was wrong. She couldn’t possibly concentrate here, not with him around.

  ‘Let me give you the tour,’ he said as he led her the length of the wooden-floored hallway.

  ‘I don’t need to see your private things.’ She regretted this now. She’d have been better off winging the assignment by cobbling together an average essay with reference to just the few textbooks she had in her flat.

  ‘Yes, you do. Otherwise you’ll be curious, and if you’re curious you won’t be able to concentrate.’

  She managed a smile. ‘Because all women are curious about seeing your room?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Kitchen and lounge are this way.’

  They faced out to the back of the house, the garden not visible this time of night. For a guy who didn’t cook, he still had all the mod cons in the kitchen. She stayed in the doorway, really not wanting to take in the atmosphere of being in his personal space.

  ‘Guest bathroom this way.’ He brushed past her as he stepped back out to the hall and opened a door on the other side of it. ‘Then there are a couple of spare bedrooms. One is my office. The other is a library and workroom for my assistant.’ He opened the door opposite.

  She didn’t go into his office but into the one he’d said was the library. She wouldn’t have guessed he’d have a library—certainly not such a varied one.

  ‘You have a whole bookcase of children’s books.’ She read the spines. She recognised so many she’d read in her hanging-out-at-the-library days when she’d avoided all the other students. Avoided the teasing. That was where she’d met Lauren—who’d been ripping a page out of a book she could have afforded a million times over.

  ‘I work for children,’ he answered briefly. ‘I got a bulk lot from a second-hand store.’

  Internally she laughed at the way everything was shelved in the ‘right’ place. Clearly he hadn’t been kidding about his library-assistant job. She pulled one from the ‘teen-read’ shelf and flicked it open. Inside the front cover a name had been written in boyish scrawl—Brad Davenport. Second-hand store, huh?

  She smiled. ‘That was my favourite for years. I read it so many times.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ He took the book off her.

  ‘Did you cry at the end?’ she asked.

  He smiled but didn’t confess.

  ‘I did every time,’ she admitted with a whisper.

  Still he didn’t give it up.

  ‘You don’t want me to know that you’re a marshmallow inside?’

  ‘I’m no marshmallow,’ he answered. ‘I have them here for the look of it. Generally the kids only come here to meet and talk with me so they’re not so nervous in court. I’m not their counsellor or anything. I’m merely their legal representative.’

  ‘But they’re your books.’ And the kids he was supposedly not that close to drew pictures for him that he put on his walls?

  His reluctant smile came with a small sigh. ‘I like to read.’

  ‘And you like kids?

  ‘Sometimes.’ He drew the word out, his voice ringing with caveats. ‘But I have no interest in having any myself.’ He put the book back. ‘There are enough out there who’ve been done over by their dipstick parents.’

  ‘You think you’d be a dipstick parent?’

  ‘Undoubtedly.’

  She smiled.

  ‘I think parenting is one of those things you learn from the example you had,’ he said lightly. ‘I didn’t have a great example.’

  ‘So you know what not to do.’

  He shook his head. ‘It’s never that simple. I see the cycle of dysfunctional families in my office every day. Now—’ he moved back out of the room ‘—the last room is my bedroom.’

  Mya hovered in the doorway, really not wanting to intrude as the sense of intimacy built between them.

  He turned and saw her hesitating and rolled his eyes. ‘I promise not to pounce.’

  She stepped right into the room. He had the biggest bed she’d ever seen, smothered in white coverings. It would be like resting in a bowl of whipped cream. Definitely not a bed for pyjamas; there should be nothing but bare skin in that.

  ‘Why is it so high?’ she asked, then quickly cleared her throat of the embarrassing rasp that had roughened her voice.

  ‘I’m tall.’

  ‘You wouldn’t want to fall out of it, would you?’ If she sat on the edge of it, her feet couldn’t touch the floor. ‘It’s like Mount Olympus or something.’

  There was no giant TV screen on a table at the foot of the bed. No chest of drawers for clothing. No bookshelf. No, it was just that massive bed with the billowing white covering demanding her attention.

  ‘Nice to know I inspire you to think of Greek gods.’

  She sent him a baleful look. It was unfair of him to start with the teasing again when she had a whole night of work ahead of her. She was tense enough with unwanted yearning. But she couldn’t resist pulling his string a touch—wishing she really could. ‘What do I inspire you to think of?’

  His gaze shifted to the left of her—to that bed. ‘Better not say.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re shy?’ She laughed.

  ‘I don’t want to embarrass you.’

  Oh, it was way too late for that. ‘I mistakenly sent you a picture of myself in a half-see-through bikini. I don’t think I could be more embarrassed.’

  ‘That was just an image. I couldn’t touch you.’

  Her breathing faltered, her pulse skipped quicker at the thought of where and how he was thinking of touching her. And when. Now? Mere words banished the chill she’d felt before as heat crept up her cheeks and across her entire body.

  A half-smile curved his lips. ‘You like a little talk, don’t you? For a woman who’s planning to spend the rest of her life counting beans, you have to get your thrills somewhere, huh?’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with chasing financial security.’ She chose to ignore the suggestion she might like a little sauce talk.

  ‘Strikes me you chase all-over safety. Which isn’t something I can give you,’ he warned, leaning close. ‘You’re not entirely safe with me.’

  ‘Now you tell me, when you’ve got me alone in your house.’ Her insides were melting—that part of her had no desire to be safe right now. It was a dangerous game and one that was so irresistible.

  ‘In the middle of the night.’

  She turned and looked at the pretty design on the lower part of the wallpaper. Not just normal wallpaper, but almost a mural. Good diversion. ‘The room came like this?’

  ‘No, I chose it.’ He let her pull back from the brink.

  ‘You did?’ It made the room like a grotto—with that big bed in the middle and the soft-looking white pillows and duvet. ‘Okay
, you chose it with women in mind.’

  ‘No, I liked my tree house when I was a kid. Remember that?’

  She did remember the old hut up high in one of the ancient trees at his parents’ house. She and Lauren had been banned from it. It had been padlocked and everything. His escape from the magazine-spread-perfect house. Lauren had got her escape by banning her mother from her room.

  ‘This gives me the same feeling of peace.’ He walked towards her. ‘And women don’t sleep in here.’

  Yeah, right. ‘Because you have a separate bedroom for your seduction routine? One with boxes of condoms and sex toys?’

  ‘I don’t need sex toys,’ he boasted with a self-mocking smile. ‘And you’ve already seen the spare rooms. One’s my office, one’s my library.’

  ‘So what, you’re celibate?’ She let her eyebrows seek the sky.

  ‘I prefer to sleep-over at their houses. It makes the morning-after escape easier.’

  She shook her head but couldn’t help the laugh. ‘You’re bad.’

  ‘No, I’m good. It’s easier for both of us. Women tend to be more relaxed in their own environment.’

  ‘Do you even make it to the morning, or do you sneak out while she’s still asleep?’

  ‘I never sneak out.’ He walked a step closer still. ‘There’s nothing like starting the day with sex. I leave her recovering in bed after that.’

  ‘And dreaming of another encounter that will never happen.’ Mya desperately clung to some kind of mockery but all she could think about was kissing him, about starting the day with sex—with him.

  ‘Why ruin a beautiful memory?’ He smiled. ‘One perfect night is all that’s required. More just gets messy.’

  She suspected just the one with him would get messy for her. Her one and only one night had been hideous the next day.

  ‘Now,’ he said softly, so close in her personal space now her pulse was frantic. ‘You can either work in my office or the library. You’ve got your laptop.’ He glanced at the dinosaur beast in her bag. It weighed a ton but still had a word-processing program that worked. That was all that mattered. ‘Let’s go with my office.’ He made the decision for her. ‘I’ll pull up the cases you need while you get reading. And my computer is faster in there than the one in the office. You can type up your assignment on that—be better for you ergonomically.’