Once A Bad Girl (11 page)

She’d waited in the alleyway while he went and collected his bike, and the two of them had dodged the photographers waiting round the front, then weaved their way precariously along the bank of the Thames, peppering the air with laughter. They’d garnered the odd funny look, but she very much doubted that anyone would connect her, in her plain work garb, with the super vixen on the internet and in the papers.

And the weird thing was, after the initial horror of nipplegate had passed, those pictures hadn’t made her feel nearly as uncomfortable as she thought they would. Mostly because she couldn’t take her eyes off Josh. She’d poured over the endless shots of him, filling out that tuxedo like he was born to wear one, seducing the camera without even trying. His impact was phenomenal. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what Marlene must be like in the flesh, but with Josh to look at she was hard pushed to care.

In the end, she’d enjoyed the film premiere tremendously. More than anything, she’d enjoyed Josh. The easy way he circulated the room and talked to everyone, without ever making her feel left out or left behind. The way he’d let her clutch at his hand during the scary bits and passed her a handkerchief when her eyes filled up at the end. Obviously he hadn’t made a move on her, but in some ways that was a good thing. It had given her the opportunity to get to know him a bit better, and she’d liked what she’d seen. She’d also had the satisfaction of closing the door in his face at the end of the night, knowing that she’d resisted the urge to invite him in.

But then there was this phobia she’d developed about kissing him in public. What was she supposed to do if she froze again? Flash her knickers? There were bound to be other events over the next few weeks where she’d be expected to perform, and no-one was going to buy them as a couple if they never kissed. She couldn’t screw up again. And a not so little part of her wanted to know if the heat that had flashed between them a week ago had been real. Had the sex really been as good as she remembered?

Problem was, she didn’t want him to know she was curious. He’d already made it clear that he wasn’t interested in a repeat performance. This mustn’t go further than kissing, and that had to be only when strictly necessary. She’d have to tread carefully.

She put down her cup and pushed the lid back on. She took a mouthful of juice and swiped her tongue over her teeth. ‘Josh,’ she called. ‘Would you come here a minute?’

He paused in mid-push. ‘What’s up?’

Lottie hesitated. ‘Sit next to me?’

He stood up, held his arms over his head and pushed each elbow inwards in some sort of stretch. The veins travelling along each powerful forearm were pumped thick with blood, though he’d barely broken a sweat.

Desire twisted in her stomach, hot and terrifying. She didn’t want to want him. She didn’t want him to know she wanted him. She wasn’t going to kiss him like she wanted him. It would be quick, chaste, nothing to be afraid of. But her nerves didn’t get the message. They jittered madly as he sauntered over, tucking his baby-blue t-shirt back into his jeans.

He lowered himself down onto the heat-hardened ground next to her, took the bottle of juice she was holding and swigged from it.

Did she dare? She had to. Otherwise the awkwardness would expand, and it would only get more difficult. It’s like ripping off a plaster, she told herself firmly. You have to grit your teeth and do it. Only the nerves pulling heat down into her core weren’t because she thought this was going to hurt, far from it. ‘I…I think we should try the kissing thing. Again.’

He screwed the lid back on the bottle and tossed it to the ground between his feet. Resting his forearms on his knees, he turned his head and fixed his gaze on her. ‘Why?’

That wasn’t what he was supposed to say. ‘Don’t make this awkward,’ she pleaded. She couldn’t have felt more uncomfortable if the ground was full of spikes. ‘I thought if maybe we tried now, next time I have to do it for real, I won’t lose my nerve. That’s all.’

‘The thing is, Lottie, I’m not sure there should be a next time.’

The ground seemed to tip. She scrambled up onto her knees. ‘What?’ Sharp little stones and spiky bits of dried twig dug into her flesh, but she hardly noticed. Slamming her hands on his shoulders, she anchored him firmly in place. ‘But you were the one who suggested this public fling in the first place!’

‘I wasn’t thinking,’ he said. ‘And now I am. Marlene is going to sign the contract with Spencer’s. There’s nothing to be gained from us pretending to be together any more.’

‘Of course there is!’ she yelled in disbelief. ‘We’ve never had so much interest in the auction house, and you can’t tell me you’re not getting the same interest in the club. I couldn’t have wished for this much publicity. We are not going to stop. We’re going to see this through to the end.’

Whatever this was, and whatever the end turned out to be. She could feel the tension radiating through his shoulders, as his hands clenched. All that pent-up power made her feel calm, somehow. She slid a hand across his cheek, the stubble rough against her palm. Her nipples tingled. ‘You are not backing out on me now,’ she muttered.

Then she lowered her head and kissed him. A chaste peck, the sort she might give a friend, if they’d already slept together and she was kidding herself that she wasn’t burning up for him.

His mouth remained stubbornly closed beneath hers as she clung foolishly long. It was still closed when he opened big hands over her hips and pulled her into his lap. Still closed when he flipped her onto her back and covered her.

She slipped her bare feet over the back of his denim-clad thighs as he moved his hands up her sides, his thumbs turned in to tease the outside of her breasts. He groaned, the sound vibrating through her. ‘Open your mouth.’ She nipped at his jaw. ‘Open your mouth, Josh. Let me taste you.’ She slid her hands over his back, slid them down to the hem of his tee, tucked them under and travelled back, marvelling at the flex of muscle.

He rocked himself against her, hard. Then he snapped his elbows straight, lifting his mouth away from hers, but leaving his erection still pressed against her. ‘No.’

Her heart pounded ferociously as he loomed over her, dark and angry. God, he was sexy. Her hands had slid to his sides when he’d moved, and she angled them in further until she found the ridges of a rock-hard male belly and thought she might spontaneously combust. Whatever he’d said about not wanting her, his body was telling an entirely different story. ‘Why not?’

‘Why is this so damn important to you? Why the hell are you spending your time rotting in the stinking basement of a building that should be condemned? And why are you even thinking about screwing around with me?’

‘That’s a lot of questions in one go,’ Lottie said faintly, scrunching her eyes up against the sun, which suddenly seemed burningly bright.

He got to his feet and kicked at the empty juice bottle. ‘So start at the beginning.’

It had been a long time, such a long time. How could she explain it to him? Would he be sympathetic? Or disgusted? As she started to speak, she didn’t even know which would be easier to take. ‘I never wanted to work at the auction house.’ It almost felt like a relief to be able to say that out loud, and she half-laughed. ‘But I don’t have a choice. It’s a family business.’

‘Of course you have a choice. Hand in your resignation. Do something else.’

‘It’s not that simple.’

He set about fixing his clothing. ‘Why not?’

‘My brother was supposed to take over the business. But he died in a car crash five years ago.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Yeah. Me too.’ She shuddered out air, fought to pull in more but it hurt, it hurt so much. Hugging her knees tighter, Lottie pressed her knees into her eye sockets until she saw flashes of white, trying to block out the memories of that time. A strong arm wrapped around her shoulders, another went under her knees, and once again she found herself on his lap as he braced her against him and held on.

There weren’t tears, those had run out long ago, but there was pain. ‘I miss him,’ she whispered. ‘And I can’t just walk away from the auction house. It’s my responsibility now.’ Her burden, she thought. Her punishment.

Josh rested his cheek on top of her head. She could feel his breath fanning over her temple, feel his warmth and strength, and it made her wonder. He was wildly sexy, fun and now compassionate. ‘Why are you doing this?’

‘What?’

‘You hate the media. But you’re pushing yourself into it. Why? Surely there’s another way to get publicity for the club without prostituting yourself to the gossip mags. I was there last night, remember? You hated every minute we spent on that red carpet.’

He shifted his position a little, turning her back to his chest so that she couldn’t see his face. ‘We are not having this conversation.’

Lottie tried to wriggle round, but he simply held her tighter. ‘Why not? What’s the big deal?’

‘It’s irrelevant.’

‘I don’t think it is.’ There was more to this, she thought. More to him.

Hands pressed hard on her shoulders as he slid himself upright and walked forwards, legs spread wide, crotch barely skimming the top of her head. ‘There’s a new art gallery opening in Soho tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at eight.’

She didn’t know how, and she didn’t know when, but they were going to have that conversation whether he liked it or not. Wrapping one arm around her waist, Lottie swirled the rapidly melting ice in the bottom of her glass and wandered over towards a vast, splashy canvas. Sid Vicious glared out at her from a shocking-pink background. He could glower all he liked, it wouldn’t come close to the irritation that nagged at her like a stone in her shoe.

What was this all about, really? For her, the benefits were obvious. Marlene had signed the contract. And even though the auction was still a secret, now that Lottie was officially a person of interest for
Guilty Pleasures
, Spencer’s was getting a boost. But for Josh? His determination to be in the papers made no sense, no sense at all. He was, she knew, a deeply private person. When she’d told him about David, he’d listened, and she’d fallen under his spell and fallen apart without a second’s thought, and he’d given her nothing of himself in return. Nothing at all.

Obviously now she felt completely stupid, but at the time it had been so easy. She wandered past Sid Vicious, loitered in front of a painting that seemed to consist of a series of slashing black lines and strategically placed red dots. She could see Josh to her left, chatting to the gallery owner, who despite the cleavage-squeezing corset dress and nose ring was sharp as a tack.

His gaze snagged on hers, and she felt it all the way to her toes and back again. And there was the other problem; the sexual attraction that threatened to eviscerate the pair of them every time they got too close. They seemed to have an unspoken agreement this evening to maintain a 3ft gap at all times, but it didn’t stop her constant awareness of him, her Josh-dar going haywire every time he moved. She got hot just thinking about him.

Huffing out a huge, pitiful sigh, she scuffed at the polished floorboards with her heel. She’d opted for a deep-blue maxi dress, with a little denim jacket and scarlet sandals that tied at the ankle, and she’d been ready to go with an hour to spare.

Josh had turned up in another of those one-size-too-small t-shirts, this one in white, the fabric so fine that she could almost see the shadow of his nipples through it.

Her mind burned with the thought of that almost kiss. She’d thought it would make things better. Instead it had made everything worse. He’d pinned her to the ground, lust blazing in his eyes, then he’d stopped when she’d asked him for more, and that was driving her mad. It wasn’t good enough. He owed her an explanation. She wanted to know exactly why he’d stopped. There was no point in kidding herself any more. She fancied him so much it hurt, and not only could she not keep away from him, she didn’t want to.

Turning on her heel, she fixed what she hoped was a look of casual cool on her face and sauntered over to where Josh stood with the gallery owner, Trixie. She’d have walked faster, but she didn’t want to risk skewering the hem of her dress with her heel.

‘Enjoying yourself?’ Josh grinned, folding his arms. The t-shirt strained across his biceps. Lottie pulled her gaze back from the curve of muscle just in time to catch Trixie doing the exact same thing.

She caught the other’s woman’s eyes and the apology flashing in them, and decided that she quite liked Trixie. ‘Absolutely,’ Lottie replied. ‘Though I’m not sure about that one over there.’ She gestured in the direction of the slashes and dots masterpiece she’d just been looking at. ‘It doesn’t make any sense. What is it supposed to be exactly?’

Trixie had a coughing fit and turned away. Josh placed his hands lightly on Lottie’s shoulders, spun her round. ‘Take another look.’

‘Okay,’ Lottie agreed, sure he was up to something. She’d humour him. For now. ‘But I don’t see…oh. Oh!’

‘Yes.’ His voice was low and amused. ‘Oh.’

Those slashes and dots weren’t random at all. They joined together in a series of broad curving lines patterning the 8ft canvas. A shapely thigh tipped to the side. An arm flung back across a woman’s face, long dark hair flowing out behind her. Breasts high and full and swollen. The hint of broad shoulders and a lick of short dark hair at the lower edge of the painting made everything more than clear.

Lottie pressed her hands to her stomach, not daring to look at Josh as her cheeks burned hot and bright, a gorgeous pulsing throb settling in hard between her thighs as the memory of Josh doing that to her flashed back in loud technicolour. ‘She looks like she’s coming,’ she whispered, half shocked, half aroused.

‘That’s because she is,’ Josh murmured. He felt like a furnace stood behind her. As if she didn’t have enough heat of her own right now. ‘Do you like it?’

She wriggled free. ‘What sort of a question is that?’

‘A yes or no one. Do you like it?’

‘Let me get this straight. Yesterday, you refused to kiss me, and today you want to know my opinion on a dirty painting?’