Be Mine (2 page)

"I'm sorry. The bag just ripped." The woman mumbled, intent on picking the folders scattered on the pavement.

Luke watched her pick up the strewn contents of the plastic bag. Automatically, he bent down to help her gather the files at the same time Terrence did.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Cilla muttered.

Irritation knocked Luke at the back of his head. He inhaled deeply to get his patience back. Instead, what hit his senses was the sweet scent of honeysuckle and warmth, his mind’s eye seeing a meadow with sunshine. He became acutely aware of the woman facing him, still busy putting the loose sheets into the folders. She thanked Terrence before shifting her attention to him.

And he was floored.

Several strands of dark hair escaped her messy ponytail. It framed her slightly round face while her fringe parted to the side. From the dim lights of the bar, he looked at her eyes. They were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. Were they brown or black? He couldn't fathom their colour in the dark, though he saw that they were fringed with naturally thick eyelashes so that mascara wasn't needed. Tiny laugh lines sat by the corners of her eyes and a little below her lower lids. Her eyes widened when she looked at him. Her pert nose slightly flared when she inhaled. A blush coated the skin over her high cheekbones, and those lips. No gloss or lipstick. She was biting her lower lip. When she let go, it was moist and had a dusky rose tinge.

Luke had a sudden urge to kiss it, to taste it, to claim her lips. What the hell? Well, that was one way of picking up women. Wait for them to bump into you with a bunch of files. No doubt she was a bit older than he was but it didn't matter. His cock twitched and his mood lightened. She held out her hand, waiting before he belatedly realized he still held some of the files. He gave them to her before they stood up.

"I really am sorry. I was in a rush and wasn't looking," she said as she tried to juggle the folders in her arms while managing her purse.

"You probably need glasses."

"Cilla!" Serena gasped, shocked. Cilla merely looked at her friend.

Luke's moment of relaxation dissipated at Cilla's comment, her rudeness turning him off big time. Instead of rebutting Cilla, the woman's face further reddened as she smiled.

"You're actually right," she said, chuckling. "I do wear glasses but they’re broken."

Cilla's lip curled in derision.

"Thank you for helping me." She looked at Terrence and Luke. "And I'm sorry again."

Luke watched her struggle with the folders as she skirted around them, still carrying the portfolios to enter the Bluu bar.

G
racie's eyes smarted with tears of humiliation, her face still aflame. She knew there were really bitchy women, though she never had the misfortune of being the subject of their cruelty. Until now. The crudity of how she was told to wear eyeglasses made her want to hide in a corner and let everyone leave before she left the shadows.

It was embarrassing that one of the people who saw her humiliation was the handsome guy who quickened her pulse just at the sight of him crouched in front of her. She didn’t know why he affected her that way. He made her giddy and had her heart racing to reach a phantom finish line. He made her salivate as though she just knew he would taste good, allowing her imagination to run wild, wondering how it would feel like to have his lips on hers. Would it be as sensual as he smelled? Masculine, sexy, with a hint of bergamot? She had looked into his eyes and seen something akin to surprise before he banked that fleeting look of interest. Yet even as she looked down to neatly stack the folders together, she could feel his heated gaze on the top of her head before skimming her face when she looked up. A gaze akin to a physical caress that made her skin long for his touch, a touch she just knew could warm her blood and bring a tingle down her spine. It had been difficult not to pant or even moan at his nearness but that was what she did despite the excitement spreading sensual warmth throughout her body. Teasing her. Caressing her. Causing her to long for something she couldn't have. She felt her nipples oh so sweetly pucker until they were hard nubs against her bra's lace cups, her rapid pulse conducting the throbbing between her legs like a maestro. All of that was washed away when she remembered the flash flood of shame wrought by his girlfriend. Gracie let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She swallowed.

There was always a first time.

She entered the bar becoming uncomfortable, never one to seek being the cynosure of several gazes. Some were appreciative while others were briefly curious before returning to their drinks. Women sized her up with a level of sangfroid and disdain. She just wanted to get the hell out of what was becoming a bad night, go home and cuddle Flynn before hitting the presentation prep again. At the moment she was just so tempted to give the women the bird, to tell them to stuff it, had it not been for her arms filled with folders. Yeah right, who was she kidding? She didn't actually have the balls to flip the finger at anyone. Steeling her spine, she walked towards the bar and waited for her turn to speak to the bartender. After what happened outside, she hoped that the guy was a kind soul. Gracie was so stressed out she wasn't so sure if she could handle another put down.

"Just a little bit more, Gracie," she muttered to herself.

Soon she caught the bartender's eye. "Hi, you all right there?"

"Hi." Her voice came out in a rush. "I just wondered if you had a bag you could spare from the back. I just need something to put these files in." She raised her arms to show what she carried.

The bartender looked down as though gauging how big a bag Gracie needed. "I'll go check. Take a seat and I'll be right back." He nodded, quirking his mouth in understanding.

"Thank you," she said gratefully. It looked like the night wasn't going to be a complete disaster after all.

He called to the other bartender to man the bar for a while. Gracie walked to an empty table by the corner of the room. She blew out a breath that made her fringe flutter over her forehead. She placed the folders on the table before undoing her thick coat, the warmth of the bar a welcome respite from the cold outside. She plunked down on the seat and rotated her ankles. She nearly sighed in contentment as her leg muscles stretched, easing the pain of having to wear high heels.

In less than a minute, the bartender returned. Empty-handed.

"I take it there isn't any," she murmured, her heart sinking.

"Afraid so." The bartender was genuinely apologetic. "All the bags inside have been thrown away and the only thing we have are huge jute sacks for veggies. Really sorry."

"That's okay. It was worth a try." Gracie nodded. "Thanks anyway."

As the bartender walked away, another figure entered the bar. Gracie nearly groaned had it not been for her breath catching in her throat. The night was so not going her way.

Oh shit. Mr. Knickers Melting Gorgeous was coming straight at...oh no. What the...?

Gracie swallowed against a throat suddenly as dry as the Gobi. The closer he approached, the more her senses lit up like it was on missile lock on without anyone punching the damned button. Her heart was beating rapidly, sensuality trickling through her veins and settling languidly in her belly. And why could she feel his lips against her shoulder and neck? Holy fuck. She hadn't been this turned on by someone just loping towards her, looking at her as though she was next on the menu.

I'm so screwed.
Even conjuring what that word meant was making her core suddenly warm.

Gracie turned her attention back to the papers on the table, pretending not to notice him. She was only too glad that his rude girlfriend wasn't draped over his arm. She didn't need the added aggravation. Taking a deep breath, she shrugged into her coat again.

"Right, guess it's going to be a slow trek to the car," she mumbled, removing the elastic band that held her hair together to fix her ponytail.

"Need help?"

Gracie turned to him.

"That's okay," she said, giving him a stiff smile. "I'm fine."

"It didn't look fine to me outside."

"And you came here to further embarrass me," she stated more than asked, her cheeks warming at the memory, unable to restrain the sarcasm that marred her tone. "No thanks."

It was better to nip the attraction she had in the bud. Even though she felt flattered that this man was giving her the attention she ceased receiving from Jonathan.

She took the folders from the table, not bothering to consider how awkward she looked. Seriously, being embarrassed was the least of her worries. She looked at him from underneath her lashes and noticed that he squared his shoulders before he exhaled.

"No. I came to apologise," he said with a slight hesitation.

Gracie gave a sound between a chuckle and a huff. "If you're not used to it, you don't have to on my account." She looked up to see his face harden. And she didn't care. It was not like she'd be seeing him again. "It happens."

Before she could move, he gathered all of the folders into his arms.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He arranged the files he now carried. "If you're loathed to accepting my apology, the least I can do is to help you carry your things. Where to?"

Gobsmacked, she couldn't speak until he arched a brow. Damn! He exuded sex appeal even just doing that.

"That’s not necessary—"

"Where to?" He repeated, his voice firm. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

Oh, what the heck. Her arms were tired anyway, and he looked as though he could carry all the folders plus the ones she left in a stack in the office. Shaking her head in resignation, she walked ahead of him. She reached the door, swung it open, and waited for him to walk through. When he did, his elbow brushed her chest, bringing a frisson of awareness against her left breast. She gasped before realizing her nipples were beading inside her bra. That simple brush, not even of flesh against flesh, was like a stroke against her clit, causing her sex to clench and weep. Inhaling sharply, Gracie backed herself against the bar's door, hoping he didn't notice. Talk about wishful thinking! The heat of his gaze when he looked at her made her nearly melt where she stood. He knew! He had felt it too, before his eyes became unreadable.

As they walked away from the bar, Gracie allowed the air she didn't know she was holding to whoosh out of her lungs. She shook her head as if in a daze. Good God, she was definitely needy all right! No surprise there. It was mostly work and home for her with the occasional drinks after work with Matt. She hardly took notice of men's interest in her, if any. But this man, in his impeccably cut suit with eyes that looked at her as though she was the only woman in the room, was causing her body to react in ways that made her want to be fucked underneath the lamplight, out in the cold, knowing the heat of sex would adequately warm her.

Gracie gave out a ragged sigh. This was getting too dangerous. And for God's sake, he was younger than she was, she castigated herself silently.

"This way." She had to clear her throat when her voice came out raspy.

They walked in silence with Gracie leading the way to where she parked her car. She didn't even know his name, which was probably better. What if he was a rapist? Or a serial killer?

Or both?

She balked at the thought. She didn't need to add to her problems by daydreaming about a stranger, whose name could just get stuck in her mind, affecting her with the last song syndrome. Even if he was a potential threat.

She fished her car keys from her bag as they neared her car. The keys spoke protruded in between her third and forefingers in case he did something stupid. She beeped the locks open before turning to him to get the folders out of his arms.

"Fold the seat so that I can put these in the back."

The way he ordered her should have grated on her nerves. It didn't. It should have scared her. The effect was the opposite. She couldn't understand why suddenly she wanted him to take the lead. To let go of her control to him.

Damn, where did that come from?

Reluctantly, she pressed the release button to bring the driver's seat forward. She readjusted the seat after he deposited the folders inside.

"Thank you." A short smile graced her mouth. "I really appreciate it."

"It's not a problem." He extended his hand. His long tapered fingers were sexy, making Gracie wonder what it would be like to have those fingers trail against her skin, her body. Would her skin ripple underneath his touch? Or was this her imagination blowing it all out of proportion? Oh God, this was so not right! Was she so sex-starved that she even considered having sex with a possible threat? He must have noticed her hesitation because the next thing he said brought a flush of embarrassment to her cheeks.

"I'm not going to bite." The side of his mouth curved upward, amusement in his voice. "I'm not a rapist either."

"I didn't say you were." Gracie retorted, feeling herself redden more.

"You didn't have to."

She stopped to look at him. The deep timbre of his voice oozed like dark honey across her skin. Holy crap. He was
sex
personified. The subject of her fantasies during the lonely nights that had become so much a part of her life. Underneath the street lamps, his hair was thick and dark. A dark brown, maybe? His chiselled face with those deep blue eyes, complimented by a firm mouth with a slightly fuller bottom lip had Gracie wanting to suck on it.

With a sigh, she extended her hand. What was the harm in putting her hand on his? It was just a handshake.

But the moment his hand enveloped hers, something warm and sensual gave a low buzz through her. The sparks that started from her fingertips, to her palm and into her nerves gave her a jolt. His handshake was firm, no problem with that. But why, oh why, did she think it was also erotic? She looked down at their hands. Her hand encased in his, his fingers curled around her mound of Venus, her imagination going wild. She shivered. How could a simple handshake tease the carnal gland buried in her neurons, coaxing it to the surface when it was already past its 'use by' date?

"Cold?" he asked, his voice suddenly turning husky. It pierced her, causing her heart to accelerate and stoking the wetness she between the thighs.

She tried to pull her hand away, but he didn't let go. She looked up at him in confusion. They stood beside the driver's side of her car on a secluded street where the only illumination came from the street lamps along the road. He was inside her personal space that she could feel the heat of his body caressing her front.

"Go out with me."

Her eyes widened. Whoa, he was fast. "Excuse me?"

"Go out with me," he repeated, still not letting go of her hand.

"Why?" Her heart thudded so hard it was coming out of her ears.

Instead of replying, he swirled his thumb over her skin in figure eights. It belied the sensuality of his caress before he placed her palm face up to run circles over the pulse that beat erratically in her wrist. The sensations made her inhale softly. Her mind veered back to imagining his thumb swirling her sex spot the way he was doing now to her hand. Gracie knew she had to get away. He probably thought that she was so easy. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand out of his. That alone gave her a wake-up call from the carnal road her thoughts were taking.

"Thanks for the help, but I don't think going out with you is necessary." She laughed softly, hoping her voice didn't betray her. She turned to slip into the driver's seat but before she could do so, he moved closer. She almost made the mistake of leaning towards him. She inhaled and almost sighed in pleasure when the notes that composed his cologne wrapped around her. Gracie groaned inwardly at the tempting morsel this handsome stranger posed. She was caught between desperately wanting and firmly refusing.