London Falling (26 page)

“Those blokes were idiots for breaking up with you.”

Aimee smiled. “That’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me.

But they didn’t break up with me.” And she was proud of that fact. “I broke it off with them.”

His eyes narrowed. “Every single one?”

She nodded.

He shook his head. “I don’t get it. So why me?”

“I think that’s pretty obvious.”

“Enlighten me.”

Why wouldn’t he give up like everyone else? She wondered what he was thinking, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. At this rate, she was going to have an entire conversation with him and never look him in the face.

“Because I’m attracted to you.”

“But I can’t be the first person you’ve been attracted to in so many years.”

“Not like this,” she said, her voice coming out in a whisper.

“If I had any idea …” Simon moved to stand in front of her. He looked so serious. “I know that I don’t have any right to ask you this, and after last night, you’d have no reason to say yes, but you have to give me a second chance. I know I can make it good for you.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Can’t you see how much I want you?” he asked. He didn’t reach for her, or even move toward her, which somehow reassured her. “You drive me crazy. Ever since I met you, I’ve been off-kilter and unable to concentrate on anything else but you.”

Why wasn’t she running? There were so many reasons they shouldn’t be doing this, not to mention the fact that they’d tried this once and it hadn’t worked.

Oh, who was she kidding? Her body was so on fire for him that she didn’t need a coat in this frigid weather. Her skin actually tingled. And if he was telling the truth and he really did want to make it good with her? She wanted a memory to take with her, an experience to remember him by, because she was unsure if she’d ever meet anyone like him again.

He angled his head. “You’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?”

She hated that he could read her so well. He should at least worry a little bit. She shrugged, because if she opened her mouth, she’d smile and the jig would be up.

“You’re going to say yes, aren’t you?” The hope in his voice was almost her undoing.

“I have to sell my cupcakes before I decide.”

He grinned. “I know your answer is yes.” He walked over to her stash of cupcakes and pulled one out. “So let’s get to selling these bloody things.”

“Uh, you might want to change the way you describe them,” Aimee said.

“Bloody doesn’t exactly make someone want to buy one.”

“Where is everyone?” he asked, with such impatience that Aimee had to laugh.

After about ten minutes, a group of men exited the bar and Simon went into raptures over the most brilliant fairy cake he’d ever tried. Aimee pocketed four pounds as a result. One of the men looked at Simon strangely, as if he recognized him. Simon reached over and grabbed the stocking cap off her head and pulled it low over his ears.

As the night went on, and the street got busier, Simon went into more and more outrageous descriptions of her cupcakes and threw Aimee into fits of laughter. She’d never had anyone help her as much as Simon had helped her the past few nights. And he had more to lose than anyone she’d ever met!

If he got caught helping her sell cupcakes, he’d get arrested. Not exactly the image he was trying to project right now. But he was doing it for her, even if it was only an attempt to get home faster and sleep with her.

He wanted to sleep with her. After last night! That was amazing. He was so gorgeous. Smart. Funny. Caring. He could have anyone in the world, and he chose her, at least for now. She didn’t know why, and she honestly didn’t care anymore. She only knew that she cared for him.

She cared for a man who was so outside her social strata that he couldn’t see her from that distance. A man who lived in a foreign country. He had everything to lose by keeping her around, and nothing to gain. She absolutely knew that a relationship with Simon couldn’t go anywhere. They’d have some fun, and then she would hop on a plane and go home, never to see him again.

But this was her chance to practice opening up, to get better at sex, so that when she finally started her job and her new life, she’d be ready to start a real relationship with someone. She wanted that more than anything.

She just had to guard her heart, because falling in love with Simon would be disastrous.

While Aimee let Cupcake out to do his business, Simon perused the options in the wine refrigerator. It was cold outside, so probably a red. But a lot of women preferred white wine. Normally, he’d romance her with an expensive dinner out, perhaps a gift of something small and expensive, but he couldn’t give her anything. He’d never met anyone so unwilling to open up and accept help. Hadn’t he learned that last night? He was way out of his element here.

How did you romance someone if you couldn’t give them anything?

He hated that he was so indecisive. But Aimee was so tense about the whole situation, and he didn’t want to do anything to make her uncomfortable. And if she was tense, he was even more so. It was a hell of a lot of pressure to give her a night she wouldn’t forget. Plus, he had the added pressure of trying to erase last night’s memory from her brain. He couldn’t have anyone living in this world and thinking that was the best he had to offer.

Cupcake careened around a corner and ran smack into a cupboard. That dog was going to hurt itself one of these days. But today, the puppy simple shook itself off and proceeded to lick his privates. Simon peered over the door of the wine fridge at Aimee. She looked like she was about to face the guillotine.

“Do you prefer white or red?” he asked over the top of the door.

“Neither,” she said. “I don’t really drink.”

Her answer was further proof that he was way out of his league here. He didn’t know her likes and dislikes, and he certainly didn’t know what was going to relax her. He grabbed the first red in the refrigerator, not even bothering to look at the label. Even if she didn’t drink, he needed something to calm his nerves.

He picked up a corkscrew and released the cork with a pop. He pulled out a glass for himself. “Are you sure you don’t want a glass?” She nodded. He poured a glass for himself and then settled at the kitchen island. “Is there a reason you don’t drink?”

“Yes.”

It was like pulling teeth. He’d never met anyone so closed off. “Bad experience?”

“No. Not for me.”

Simon raised an eyebrow in response.

She sighed. “My mom was an alcoholic.”

That’s why she kept herself reined in so tightly. She was afraid if she let go, she’d end up like her mother. “That explains a lot.”

Aimee gave him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just meant it explains why you don’t drink.” Now was not the time to analyze her personality. Still, he couldn’t imagine how tough that had to be.

He had friends who had grown up with alcoholics in their family and they usually ended up drowning their own sorrows in liters of alcohol. One more reason she was an extraordinary person. When faced with the difficulties of her life, so many people would give up and use the escapism of alcohol to cope. Not Aimee.

Except that right now she looked like she was being forced to jump off a bridge with a frayed bungee cord.

“You do drink a little, though?” he asked.

“On special occasions.”

He walked over to the cabinet and pulled out another glass. He poured wine into it and pushed it over to Aimee. She looked at him with a question mark in her eyes. “Consider this a special occasion.”

“No. I’m line.”

“No. You look like you’re about to pass out from fright. Honestly, Aimee, I think you need to relax a little bit.”

“I haven’t said yes.”

He paused with his glass of wine in mid-air. “Have you changed your mind? Because if you have, you need to tell me now.”

“It’s just so weird. It seems so planned and unromantic.”

Great. So much for relaxing her. Now he was going to be spending another night alone and fantasizing about her. “So your answer is no.”

“I didn’t say that,” she said.

His heart started pounding in his chest. Dear God, she had him on a roller-coaster of emotions. She looked so adorable with her hair all mussed by the ski cap he’d removed and her cheeks still red from the cold air. He needed her to relax. Fast.

“So do you believe me when I say that this is going to be a lot better for you–and for me–if you are able to relax just a little bit?” he asked.

A few beats passed while she tried to decide what to do. He wanted to jump up in the air and shout when she slid the wine glass closer, picked it up and took a sip. She set the glass back down and smiled at him. He was ready now. Who was he kidding? He’d been ready all night. But he schooled himself while she finished the rest of the glass.

“Why do you let your dad treat you like that?” she asked.

Definitely not the direction he wanted her thoughts to head. “Today?”

She nodded. “He just wants the bank run a certain way.”

“And you don’t?”

“Let’s just say, we don’t always see eye to eye about things.”

She licked her lips after another sip of wine, and he almost dragged her upstairs right then.

“You want to take more risks with the bank and your dad doesn’t.”

Simon laughed. “That’s not even remotely true.”

“Really? You wouldn’t rather invest in risky small businesses where you could get your hands dirty than conservatively invest the royal family’s inheritance?”

“That’s preposterous,” he said. “I need to win their business so I can finally take over the bank and run things the way I want to run them.”

Aimee nodded. “Exactly. Even though you’ll finally have the power to take more risk, you’ll be trapped, because you’ll have to invest more conservatively.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. The last thing I want is to take risks with the bank’s money. I don’t want to ever risk another bankruptcy. I’m not a risk-taker.”

He’d been taught from birth to be conservative about money.

“That’s why you’re so conflicted. You want to take risks like a venture capitalist, but in order to get what you want, you need to be the most conservative banker in the country.”

Simon shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Why were they wasting their time talking about this? She was so wrong about him.

She put her hand on his thigh. “You should do what you’re good at, not what you’ve been told you need to do.”

Heat spread from the spot where her hand touched him. He looked down at the spot, just as she yanked her hand away and drained the final sip of her wine.

He debated pouring some more, but he wanted her relaxed not drunk.

And he definitely wanted her to remember tonight. Plus, if he poured more wine, she might want to talk more about the bank, and he definitely didn’t want that. She didn’t have family, so she didn’t understand the expectations that came with being part of a family, even if some of the things she said rang slightly true.

“If your family didn’t own a bank, what would you do with your life?”

She needed to be distracted. He downed the rest of his wine, stood up, and took her by the hand. “Let’s continue this discussion upstairs.”

Chapter Twelve

He led her upstairs, but by the time he reached his doorway, her tension had escalated by about a thousand percent. He was going to have to try something else.

She reached a hand up and massaged her shoulder.

Aha. He knew what to do. “Here, let me do that,” he said. He turned her around and massaged the tension in her shoulders. She was wound up tighter than the lock on a bank safe.

“Ooh, that feels good.” Her voice had turned all low and husky.

“Let’s go over to the bed.” Her shoulders tightened right back up. She was going to need some serious professional help if she didn’t learn to relax and loosen her grip on her emotions. He had her take off her shoes and lie face-down on the bed where he straddled her and went to work massaging the knots in her back.

He moved his hands to the bare skin on her back. She was so thin, almost too thin, but she wasn’t one of those buff Madonna types. No trainer had ever sculpted her body into a mass of muscles, so she was soft and entirely feminine. He pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her back bare, except for the pale pink straps of her bra. He returned to kneading her shoulders, working on a particularly tight knot.

Her head was turned to the side, and her lips were slightly parted. And then she moaned.

“That feels sooo good.”

He instantly got hard. He leaned down and kissed the side of her mouth, then pulled back her hair and kissed her on the nape of her neck. He wanted to flip her over and sink into her softness, but he had to take things slow. He focused on the event the next night, but his thoughts immediately returned to Aimee. He switched his focus to interest rates. The next election. Aimee’s smooth skin. Damn, nothing slowed him down.

He resumed massaging her shoulders, drifting down to her lower back.

Her soft skin beckoned, and he wanted to slip his hands beneath the waistband of her pants to feel the soft curve of her bottom. Instead, he leaned down and kissed the small of her back. He’d never in his life been so turned on and yet unable to move forward, because Aimee was coming to mean more to him than he’d ever thought possible. He’d wait all night if necessary.

And at the current rate, he feared he’d have to wait forever. But he’d do it. For Aimee.

Simon’s hands moved back up to her shoulders, and Aimee almost screamed in annoyance. At his current rate, he’d never get to the good stuff, which was all she could think about. His tongue tangling with hers. His hand massaging her breast while the other teased her nipple. She moaned when his hand drifted to her side, but he didn’t go the extra few inches to complete her fantasy. Not that he could with her lying face-down on the sheets, her breasts smashed against the mattress. Take the hint, she willed him. But his hands returned to her shoulder blades.

She was going to have to take matters into her own hands.