Too Charming

Too Charming

Kathryn Freeman

Copyright © 2013 Kathryn Freeman

Published 2013 by Choc Lit Limited

Penrose House, Crawley Drive, Camberley, Surrey GU15 2AB, UK

www.choclitpublishing.com

The right of Kathryn Freeman to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the
 public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher or a licence permitting restricted copying. In the UK such licences are issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, 90
 Tottenham Court Road, London, W1P 9HE

ISBN-978-1-78189-106-3

To my men.  My sons, who put up with their mother’s weird desire to write about romance.  And my husband, who didn’t laugh too loudly when I said I wanted to give up work and write.  He told me to go for it.

This book is your fault!

Acknowledgements

This book started with my parents, who always told me I could do anything I put my mind to.  Thank you Mum (and Dad, because I know you’re still watching over me).

Special thanks also to Helen and Maureen – two wonderful bosses who supported my crazy ambition to write romantic fiction.

Encouragement from friends and family has helped to keep me going.  To my work colleagues from Stockley Park, Bagshot, Zurich and North America, David and Jayne, Charlotte, Michele, Priti, Sonia and Gill, my other Mum and Dad, my lovely Northern relies from Fleetwood - thank you all for your incredible support.

Too Charming would not have been the book it is today without the insightful advice from the Romantic Novelists’ Association New Writers’ Scheme, the guidance of my wonderful editor or the help of Jane, Emma and Caroline who were kind enough to plough through an early draft.

Finally,
Too Charming
would not have been published were it not for Choc Lit and their Tasting Panel.  A heartfelt thank you to them for giving me this opportunity.  You enabled my dream to come true.

Chapter One

At the sight of the tall, dark, handsome man climbing off the running machine, Megan’s heart sank. Not, perhaps, the most usual of female reactions. Then again, there was nothing usual, or normal, about her reaction to Scott Armstrong. He made her nervous, pure and simple. It was hard for her to admit that. As a woman fast approaching thirty, she had enough experience dealing with members of the opposite sex to remain unflustered in the presence of one. Except, it seemed, when it came to Scott Armstrong.

Megan glanced at her watch and heaved out a sigh, knowing she'd cocked up her timings again. Scott visited the gym religiously between 6 a.m. and 7 a.m. every morning. It was the reason she’d stopped going so early. Until the last few days, that was, when she seemed to have suffered temporary amnesia. It was said that sleep deprivation caused the brain to turn to mush, and she must be living proof. It was time she got a better grip on that work–life balance everyone kept harping on about. Perhaps someone could persuade the criminals to have a couple of weeks off so she could catch up.

With a rising sense of alarm she studied the man now strolling confidently towards her. A man she was more used to encountering inside the Crown Court. He was attractive, certainly. Okay, strictly speaking she guessed
attractive
didn’t do him justice. He was strikingly handsome. Steel-grey eyes, an athletic body, dark silky hair and cheekbones so sharp a woman could cut her finger on them should she want to trace them. Most of the time, Megan didn’t. While, objectively, she could appreciate his beauty, she preferred her men a little more grounded and, well, ordinary. It wasn’t that she had a type, just that she knew what she
didn’t
like. And that included wildly attractive men who were used to simply crooking their finger and for the women to come running.

‘Are you stalking me, DS Taylor?’ His voice was deep and faintly amused. The voice of a man who was maddeningly sure of himself

‘The only place I’ll be stalking you, Scott Armstrong, is in your dreams.’ Her reply wasn’t bad, she thought. Cool and uninterested.

Unperturbed, he grinned, the edges of his eyes crinkling. It was a sexy look. Damn, he was sexy. But he knew it, she reminded herself. ‘Always, Detective Sergeant,’ he replied smoothly. ‘You’re always in my dreams.’

Subtly he shifted his body so that it was blocking her way. His action caused an immediate spike in her heart rate – and her irritation levels. Surely she knew better than to let such a move unsettle her? After all, in her line of work she frequently came across men who tried to intimidate. Men who thought they could use their superior height and power to unnerve and get their way. Then again, those men didn’t usually have bodies reminiscent of a Greek God, or a face that could have graced the cover of
GQ
magazine. ‘Your dream sounds more like a nightmare to me,’ she replied with a casualness she wasn’t quite feeling at that moment. ‘Are you going to take your sweaty body out of my way, or do I have to report you for harassment?’

Again he grinned at her. It was a perfect smile. Almost too perfect. Fleetingly, it had Megan wondering if he pract
iced it in front of the mirror, but she dismissed the thought as unnecessarily cruel. Just because he was startlingly handsome, it didn’t make him vain, though in her experience it did increase the odds.

‘I think, secretly, you’re here to ogle my legs,’ Scott remarked in that deep, gravelly voice of his as he at last moved to let her pass.

From another man’s lips those words might have made her smile, but from Scott, she simply couldn’t be certain he was joking. Deliberately, she raked her gaze down the legs in question. As they were long, lean and muscular, it wasn’t a hardship. ‘I’ve seen better legs on a camel.’

A grin split his face, notching up his attractive-rating even further. ‘Lucky camel.’

Then, mimicking her action, he flicked a slow gaze over her legs. Though the desire to turn and run was almost unbearable, she held her ground. Her legs were good. Okay, make that goodish. Either way, she was more comfortable when they were under wraps.

‘You, on the other hand,’ he continued in his soft, deep, voice, ‘have the legs of a graceful gazelle.’

A deep blush scalded her cheeks and she huffed out a breath. So much for her show of indifference. Still, it was a good time to remind herself that words came too easily to men like Scott. It was superficial flattery, nothing more, and she had a pretty good idea where he could shove it. ‘Look, if we’ve finished with the zoology, I’ve got a workout to complete before my daughter wakes up.’ The thought of six-year-old Sally, still tucked up in bed, at the home they shared with her parents, helped calm her racing pulse.

Nodding, he took the towel from around his neck and wiped the beading sweat from his brow. Megan caught herself watching the play of his strong biceps as he moved the towel back and forth, and hastily looked back up at his face.

‘Well, I’ll see you in court.’ He paused, looking back at her. ‘I take it you’ll be there this morning?’

‘Oh yes. I’ll be there to see Stuart Matthews put away in prison for a long, long time. Where he belongs. Where he should have been sent two years ago.’ She was still pissed that Scott, acting as Matthews’ defence barrister, had managed to get the weasel off on a technicality the last time he’d faced a jury. If he’d been found guilty and put away then, as he damn well should have been, he wouldn’t have gone on to rob the four post offices he was being tried for that day. Instead he’d have been behind bars and the post office staff would have had a normal, though in all likelihood pretty dull, day in the office. At least one where they wouldn’t have had to suffer a sawn-off shotgun shoved in their faces.

Scott simply shrugged, clearly unimpressed with her rant. ‘We’ll see. Loser buys the drinks, eh?’

Megan didn’t bother to reply.

Scott watched as Megan strode away from him, head held high, her delicious bottom moving sensuously from side to side as she walked towards the step machine. He was damned if he knew what it was about Detective Sergeant Megan Taylor that always fired him up. Perhaps it was her no-nonsense, ballsy approach to life. The fact that she always gave as good as she got. Many times, he had to concede, she gave better. Her face wasn’t bad, either. Generally he preferred blondes, but her short, pixie-like dark hair and flashing blue eyes weren’t to be sneezed at. Then there was her body. Again, he’d put himself down as more of a voluptuous curves man, but her petite, slim, boyish figure definitely caught his attention.

As she climbed on to the machine she glanced his way and caught him staring. With a haughty glare she cut him dead. Smothering a laugh, Scott turned away and ambled towards the weights. That was it, in a nutshell. What really made him hot under the collar was Megan’s attitude. The lady was most definitely a challenge. Maybe he really was as arrogant as she’d frequently told him, but it was a fact that women generally fawned over him. He didn’t kid himself it was because of who he was. No, they were only interested in what they saw. The slick, well-paid barrister. The good-looking man. Underneath all that? Suffice to say that if they knew something of the emotional baggage he carried around with him, they probably wouldn’t be so keen to get him into bed. Still, it suited Scott. He wasn’t interested in long-term relationships. He preferred the ease of a quick affair. New, passionate, exciting. Moving on before things got stale.

Scott finished his workout with his usual 2k on the rowing machine, making it in just under seven minutes. A personal best. Feeling ridiculously pleased with himself, he headed off to the changing room and the rewards of a hot shower. As he let the steaming jets pummel his body, he wondered absently if his improved performance was down to the fact that he was getting fitter, or if it perhaps had something to do with the very occasional glances Megan had shot him when she thought he wasn’t looking. He was a man, after all, and as every man knew, there was nothing like the attention of a hot woman to spur him into action.

After toweling off and dragging on some clean jogging bottoms and a fresh T-shirt, he headed out to his car, glancing at his watch. Still only 7.30 a.m. The early morning gym session was a killer, but getting exercise out of the way and still having plenty of time before court went a long way towards making the pain worthwhile. Opening the boot of the sports car, he unconsciously ran his hands across the sleek, shiny bodywork. She really was a work of art. Well worth the crippling loss from his bank account. After dumping the sports bag into the laughably small boot – definitely not the car for a family man – he eased into the driver seat and started the engine, grinning like a fool at the resulting roar.

Maneuvering
out of the car park, Scott began to focus his mind on the day ahead. First a trip home to change, then off to court. A place he seemed to spend most of his life, in between occasional visits to chambers and fleeting hours of sleep. Today he had a pretty strong feeling he was going to be on the losing side. It wasn’t something he particularly enjoyed, but it was hard to argue against evidence when it was so damning. Of course he’d play his part in court, give his client the best defence he could, but on this occasion it looked like the police had done their job. No doubt Mr Matthews would be looking at a pretty lengthy spell in jail after today. And Scott would owe sexy DS Taylor a drink. There were worse ways to console himself after losing a case.

He was often asked how he felt about defending cases like this, where the evidence was so strongly supportive of guilt. To Scott, it wasn’t an issue. A man was innocent until proven guilty. Period.  His job was to make sure the prosecution team could prove that guilt with solid, tamper-proof evidence. As he saw it, he was the last line of defence. The last chance to highlight any holes in the evidence, to pick out flaws in the witness statements. He wasn’t interested in convicting the guilty. He wanted to make sure the innocent didn’t lose their freedom. And sometimes they did, as Scott knew only too well.

‘We find the accused, Stuart Matthews, guilty as charged.’

On hearing the jury’s verdict, Megan felt a warm buzz of satisfaction. This was what the job was all about. Putting away the bad guys. All the hours she’d spent on the case, gathering the evidence, interviewing the witnesses. It was finally worth it. One less villain on the streets. One less person to cause harm to others.

Gathering her things together, Megan congratulated the prosecutor on a job well done and immediately went to phone Ann. A colleague and close friend, Ann had worked with her on the Matthews case and would no doubt be anxiously pacing her office, waiting for the verdict.

‘Well hallelujah!’ Ann greeted the news with a deep sigh of relief. ‘Of course, he should have been pronounced guilty two years ago.’

‘Don’t remind me.’

‘Still, at least the sexy but slippery Armstrong couldn’t work his Houdini act a second time. You got your man, Megan. We should have a drink to celebrate after the dance class this week. What do you think?’

‘If you’re buying, I think I agree.’ After ending the call, Megan walked out of court with a warm glow of contentment. This had all the makings of a great day.

‘Congratulations, DS Taylor, I believe I owe you a drink.’

At the sound of Scott’s deep, rich voice, Megan bit back a rueful smile. It appeared drinks were like buses. She’d not been invited for one for ages, but now she was flooded with invitations. This one, though, she was going to pass on. ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’

That should have been the end of it, but once more she found him blocking her way, just as he had at the gym that morning. The cocky grin was still in place, too, though it was pretty much all that remained of the man she’d traded insults with earlier. The workout gear was gone, replaced with a sharp charcoal suit, though worn with the same nonchalant swagger as his shorts and training vest. His dark hair, hidden in court under a barrister wig, was now uncovered and slightly rumpled. It should have looked untidy. How typical that it gave him a rakish air instead.

As if aware of her thoughts, he threaded his hand through the thick waves and laughed softly at her succinct refusal. ‘You wouldn’t be scared by any chance?’

Because she was, she ignored his question and went on the attack. ‘Chatting me up is just a giant joke to you, isn’t it?’

For a brief moment he looked confused. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘I’m hardly your type.’ He was hardly her type, either. Men as good looking as him didn’t stick with women like her. At least not in the long run.

He raised a dark eyebrow. ‘So I have a type now, do I? That’s news to me.’

‘I’m pretty certain single mothers or police detectives don’t fall under your usual target profile. Just as defence lawyers don’t come under mine.’

In her opinion they were a necessary evil, similar to smear tests and dental appointments. Unavoidable, but it didn’t mean she had to like them. In fact when she thought of the hours of manpower that went into getting a criminal to court, only to have a barrister like Scott let them wriggle off the hook, it was another reason not to like the man.

With his amused grey eyes calmly fixed on hers, he reached out a finger and carelessly stroked her cheek. ‘You’re trying to use logic to understand something that defies logic. One of these days, Megan, you’ll forget to think and just go with your instincts. Then you’ll find out how incredible it could be between us.’