Untamed Billionaires: Marriage: For Business or Pleasure? / Getting Red-Hot with the Rogue / One Night with the Rebel Billionaire. Элли Блейк

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СКАЧАТЬ hands gripped the steering wheel, shock and joy and mind-numbing lust slamming into her, leaving her powerless to do anything but watch him approach.

      Not a flicker of emotion crossed Nick Mancini’s face as he reached the car, leaned tanned, toned forearms on the open window and gave her a casual nod.

      ‘Hey, Britt. Long time no see.’

      A casual greeting, without rancour or bitterness; then again, she’d been the one left to pick up the pieces when he’d ended it.

      The greeting and his lack of emotion didn’t do justice to what they’d shared, what they’d given up and she’d be damned if she showed him anything other than the same lackadaisical nonchalance despite her jack-hammering heart and clammy hands.

      ‘Ten years, give or take.’

      She wanted him to acknowledge the time they’d spent apart, wanted him to ask how she’d been, wanted him to finally explain why he’d opted out.

      Instead, he shrugged, her gaze drifting to those bunching muscles of their own volition, all too aware of how he’d filled out in the last ten years.

      He’d been lean rather than muscular back then and now…She wrenched her gaze away from his impressive pecs and focused on his face.

      Nick the teenager had been good-looking, cocky and a rebel.

      Nick the man was drop-dead gorgeous in a rough-around-the-edges way, still cocky and, if she read him right, still out to prove to the world he didn’t give a damn.

      By the smug grin lifting the corners of an all too kissable mouth, she’d read him just right.

      ‘What brings you by?’

      ‘Business.’

      Something solid, tangible and guaranteed to keep errant emotions at bay no matter how much she wanted to ask him ‘what the hell happened to us?’

      She’d hoped to avoid him, had hoped to do business with his father but she’d been a fool. This place was in Nick’s veins, of course he’d be here doing a hard day’s work, working longer and tougher and harder than all his employees.

      ‘Business, huh?’

      His caramelised-toffee eyes narrowed and she wished he’d stop staring at her as if she had a dirt smudge on her nose. He’d always had the ability to see into her soul and right now that was the last thing she needed.

      She needed to stay focused. Her promotion depended on it.

      ‘I’ve got a proposition for you.’

      He straightened, all six feet two of lean, hard muscle, and smiled that bad-boy smile she remembered so well, the smile that had haunted her for months when she’d first arrived in London, pining away for her first love—the same love who had turned down her offer to come with her, to build a life together.

      ‘I just bet you have, Red.’

      He opened the car door and she stepped out, wishing she could hide her blush, knowing it would do nothing for her freckles and hating herself for caring so damn much.

      ‘No one’s called me that in years,’ she muttered, thankful her hair bore more coppery-blonde streaks these days than the fire-engine red she’d grown up with.

      ‘That’s a shame.’

      He reached out, twisted a stray strand around his finger.

      ‘They obviously don’t know you as well as I do.’

      She pulled away quickly before she did something stupid, such as stand there and let him twist her around his finger and not just by the hair. ‘You don’t know me at all.’

      Ignoring the glint in his eyes, which seemed a richer, deeper toffee than she remembered, she glanced at her watch, hoping he’d get the hint.

      ‘Is your father here? I need to discuss this with him.’

      His eyes clouded, darkened, as pain twisted his mouth. ‘Papa died. Guess the news didn’t make it all the way to London.’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, suddenly ashamed she hadn’t kept in touch with news from home.

      Not that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind on occasion but then, he hadn’t been the reason she’d fled Jacaranda.

      ‘Are you really?’

      She noticed the angry lines fanning from the corner of his mouth, the indentation between his brows, aging him beyond his twenty-eight years.

      He’d never looked at her like this back then. Uh-uh. He might have been a rebel but he’d never been brooding or angry, far from it.

      A decade earlier he’d only ever looked at her with adoration and desire, and for a brief moment she wished she could turn back time.

      ‘Of course I’m sorry. Everyone around here loved Papa.’

      ‘You’re right.’

      Swiping a hand across his face, he erased the tenseness. ‘Though I’m surprised your old man didn’t say something. You can’t ride a Harley in this town without people lining the roads for a parade.’

      His gaze flicked over her and she clenched her hands to stop from smoothing her Dolce and Gabbana suit. His eyes glowed with appreciation but she didn’t miss the slight compression of his lips, as if her favourite designer suit didn’t impress him one bit.

      ‘Despite your fancy new clothes, surely you remember how it is around here?’

      He was trying to bait her, just as he always did and, damn him, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing exactly how much she remembered, most of her memories centred on him.

      ‘I’ve been busy the last ten years so forgive me if taking a stroll down memory lane hasn’t been high on my list of priorities.’

      ‘Busy, huh?’

      She expected him to ask about her career, wanted to show him how far she’d come, how far they could’ve made it as a couple if he’d accompanied her.

      Instead, he stood there, a semi-naked god totally at ease with his surroundings, the sheen of sweat and dust adding to his rugged appeal rather than diminishing it.

      Clamping down on the mental image to run her hands over that glorious bare chest, she cleared her throat.

      ‘I work twenty-four-seven. Being a senior exec at London’s top advertising company takes up most of my time.’

      ‘What, no time for play?’

      His teasing smile slammed into her, the familiarity of it making her gasp.

      She didn’t play, not any more. Her play days had stopped when she’d hightailed it out of this town and never looked back.

      Work helped her forget…everything.

      Work СКАЧАТЬ