Blame It on the Bikini(24)

‘Miaow,’ he said and then reared up on the bed, moving towards her like a tiger on the prowl. ‘Why don’t we make a movie instead? Come here and star in it with me.’

The sight of him on all fours was almost enough to tip her over the edge, but she dug in her heels. ‘You really are a perv.’

‘Come on, back to bed.’ He knelt right up, the most X-rated fantasy Mya had ever seen. ‘It’s early.’

‘And I have work to get to.’ She really had to get out of here.

‘You’re kidding.’

She shook her head.

‘Be late. Call in sick.’

Oh, no, she wasn’t letting him tempt her. It was finished. ‘You know it’s over. The mystery is gone—the wondering of “what’ll we be like”—now we know. Now you can go back to your three-women-a-week lifestyle and I can get on with my studying.’

There was a moment, the briefest of pauses when she wondered what he was going to say. He looked away, hiding his expressive eyes, and he flung back on the bed. ‘It’s only three when I’m on holiday.’ He rested his head on his arm and looked even more like a Greek god reclining.

And all Mya could think was how he’d said there was nothing like starting the day with some good sex. She closed her eyes and forced away the whisper of temptation and the vision of one very aroused Brad. She had a shift to get to. She pulled her crumpled dress back on, hoping it was early enough for her not to get caught doing the walk of shame home.

‘You can borrow some of my clothes if you want,’ he said unhelpfully.

No. That would mean she’d have to see him again to return them, and there was no way that was happening. There was no way she was indulging again. It was going to take long enough to forget how incredible he was as a lover.

She didn’t regret last night. But it had been so good she almost did.

‘I don’t think they’d fit but thanks all the same.’ She turned her back on him so he couldn’t see her mega blush.

There was no reason for them to see each other again after this. He’d had what he’d wanted now and so had she. It was over. Outside work hours she’d be back to nothing but study, and he’d be back to saving kids during the day and romping his way around the city at night. It was one night and it was over.

Four days later her eyes hurt and she was exhausted but two coffees and a sugary doughnut saw her through the first two hours of her shift at the café. She’d already agreed to stay on and do a double shift before going straight to the bar. Desperate to fill every moment of her day. Study wasn’t enough—it was in silence, and in silence her mind wandered. She needed noise and relentless activity.

Sex was sex, right? It was fun and physical, the release was great, and then it was over. Nothing more to it. So why was she so damn fixated on him?

Drew looked up when she finally got to the bar. She was running late from the café, but to her surprise he wasn’t grumpy; in fact he smiled at her as if she were his employee of the week.

‘We have another private function tonight,’ he said. ‘In the VIP room.’

‘We do?’ Another person had hired out part of the place for some outrageous price this close to Christmas? ‘Who’s the client?’

‘Same guy as last time,’ Drew answered. ‘Brad. He specially requested Jonny. Double rates.’

Mya’s insides went solar-hot and her outsides ice-cold, while her heart soared and then dropped in the space of a second. He was supposed to be out of her life—in fact, he was out of her life. He hadn’t contacted her; she hadn’t contacted him … But now he was coming to her place of work but didn’t want to see her? He’d asked for Jonny?

She didn’t know whether to be mad, glad or amused.

‘Trouble is,’ Drew said, ‘Jonny cut himself today. His fingers are all bandaged up and he’ll be off the rest of the week. Are you up to serving the private party?’

‘Do I still get double rates?’ Mya asked.

‘I’ll have to check with the client.’

Mya flicked her fringe out of her eyes and got down to prepping her cocktail trims. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll check with him.’ Her blood quickened as both anger and anticipation simmered. Why hadn’t he wanted her to tend his bar, hmm?

Half an hour later, she walked into the small room that could be roped off for VIPs or small private functions. ‘Hi, Brad,’ she said coolly. ‘You’ve offended me.’

‘I have?’

‘You don’t like my cocktail skills any more?’

‘I didn’t think you’d want me to pay for your time.’ He turned on the smiling charm immediately—but then leaned a little closer to where she now stood setting up the small bar. ‘I thought you might prefer not to have to see me.’

She shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t matter to me.’ She carefully placed glasses. ‘Maybe I could do with the money.’

‘And that wouldn’t bother you?’ He watched her closely.

‘You’d be paying me to pour drinks,’ she answered with some sass. ‘Not anything else. And you’re offering to pay Jonny more than the going rate?’

‘To secure the private space I had to. I didn’t think you’d want me to treat you as a charity.’

‘But you wouldn’t be, would you?’ she asked coolly.

He studied her, a small smile playing around his way-too-luscious lips. Yeah, there was the problem—she now knew exactly how skilled that mouth was.

‘I can be professional,’ she said—to herself more than to him.

‘Can you?’

‘Sure, can’t you?’

His smile deepened. ‘I’m not at work. I’m here to have fun and flirt with the bar staff.’

‘You wanted to flirt with Jonny?’ She laughed. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, but Jonny is off sick. You’re stuck with me.’

He looked at her.

‘Am I worth double?’ she asked him and tilted her head on the side.

‘You do know what you’re doing, don’t you?’

‘Stirring a cocktail, yes?’

‘You’re stirring, but not just the cocktail.’

‘We can still be friends, right? Isn’t that what you said?’ she said archly.

That was before they’d slept together.

‘Of course.’ He inclined his head and walked to greet the first person coming through the door.

Mya watched the guests arrive and insecurity smote her—there were women here, seriously hot women. Smart ones too. Lawyers, the lot of them. And it was so dumb to feel threatened when she was ninety per cent on her way to being a lawyer too. And even if she weren’t, she still didn’t need to feel any less worthy than them.

Yet she did. The years of conditioning at that school had shaped her—that she should feel grateful for having that opportunity. That she shouldn’t stuff it up. That her drop-kick family background meant she’d never be fully accepted by the social strata that most of these people came from—as James had pointed out.

She watched Brad laughing with one of the women. Oh, no, maybe that was why he hadn’t wanted her to work the bar—had he been sparing her because he was here with another woman? Why hadn’t she thought of that?

Brad knew all the guys were checking her out. It had been a dumb idea to come here, but he’d thought he could pull it off if Jonny had been doing the work. Then Brad could pop into the main bar and snatch a few words with Mya and see how the land lay. Only now she was right in front of him, smiling, joking and teasing with them all as she served them.

And all he could do was watch like some lovelorn pup hoping for any kind of bone to be thrown his way. Some small scrap that might show she wanted him again. It was more than his pride that was stung. Did she really not want another night with him? Had that truly been enough for her? He didn’t believe it—was egotistical enough not to. All he needed was some proof. And to get that, he figured he just needed to get a little closer to her.

Mya fully regretted saying she’d do this. He was more handsome than she remembered, more fun with his wicked smiles and sharp words. And now she was assailed by images of sneaking him into the cupboard or some dark corner in the alley and having her wicked way with him. Quick and frantic and fabulous.

And to make it worse, he’d now taken up residence right beside her and was watching her every move with the full-on maple-syrup glow. Brad Davenport on full throttle. She fumbled with the bottle and was annoyed to glance up and see him suddenly smiling as if he’d won the lottery.

‘Not on your game tonight?’ he drawled. ‘Or is it because you can’t concentrate when I’m near?’

She stopped what she was doing—but couldn’t stop her blush. ‘Don’t be mean.’