Be Mine (3 page)

"That's close enough.” She kept her head averted, unable to help the huskiness that seeped into her voice. She risked being drawn to him if she turned to face him. Her mind was in no position to combat her traitorous body. He leaned forward. Was he about to kiss her? Trepidation and excitement flooded her veins, making her pulse jump almost out of her skin. She placed her hand on his chest to push him away, but it was like pushing against a concrete wall. His body heat travelled through her, suffusing her with an ache that defied all rational thought. A wave of longing crested over her, drowning her. She welcomed it for once, allowing the longing she felt to reach the shores of her bruised soul, just to know that she could still feel. That she was alive. It had been so long since this happened to her and to experience it, if only for the briefest of moments, permitted her the luxury of realizing that she was a warm blooded human being. Yet in the same token, her body shied away, already anticipating the pain. A pain so indescribable that she wouldn't even wish it on her worst enemy. Even on the handsome stranger's girlfriend. The pain of being broken inside, resigned to the fact that she would never be good enough.

For any man.

"Please don't," Gracie whispered.

"Why?"

She didn't stop the scoffing laugh that came from her throat. She raked him with her gaze, taking every glorious hot inch of maleness into her brain.

"Seriously? I'm not that kind of woman who'd jump into what you're offering."

"Why is that?" His voice was like sexy rum. Intoxicating. He leaned back to look at her, his gaze warming her face. "Let me make up for what Cilla did to you."

"It's not necessary."

"It is," he said before cocking his head to one side. "What's stopping you?"

Gracie was being pulled to him, only a thin thread of sanity held her away from throwing herself in his arms. No, this couldn't happen. She didn't want it to happen.
Who was she kidding?
She had to break his hold on her. She was going to lie, knowing that what she was going to say would destroy anything that could have happened between them. It was for the best despite feeling that it wasn't the right thing to do.

She looked straight into his eyes, wanting to drown in them. In the end, she gave him a smile of regret.

"Because I'm married."

I
f someone up there wanted to play a sick joke on Luke, he just succeeded. Luke felt as though he'd been run through by a steamroller. Very slowly. He stepped back further as his breath whooshed out of his chest. Belatedly, he looked at her left hand and true enough a simple band encircled her ring finger.

Why the bloody hell didn't he notice that?

Because all you wanted was to fuck her till kingdom come.

He was such an arse. Why would he think that she was unattached? Her beauty would have brought droves of men to her. She had a certain grace in the way she walked, not contrived like some who pretended that they were walking the catwalk. Luke felt a surge of jealousy towards her husband. Lucky bastard. His heart that thudded to be near her now beat differently.

And he couldn't get away fast enough to hide his embarrassment. Dammit!

"No, I'm the one who should apologise." He released her hand as he spoke. He stepped back further. "I didn't mean to offend you."

Her soft chuckle brought a bolt of electricity down his spine and straight to his frustrated dick. Jesus! If she knew how turned on he was underneath his coat she would think he was a pervert.

"Seems like you keep apologizing this evening. There's no need. Really."

Luke felt her gaze. In the dim light her eyes searched his even as the ends of her mouth lifted a fraction. The sexual pull that flickered through her eyes was more than enough to make him want to wrench her into his arms and kiss her, glad that she wasn't entirely immune to him. It was the least he could hope for. There was no way he'd touch her. No matter how debauched people thought his sex life was, he wasn't crossing the line to screw a married woman. He wasn't going to give into his hard-on that wanted to bury itself deep inside her and feel her warmth. He was having the bluest balls that could probably bend a Christmas tree with its weight at the thought of wanting yet not having her. Something about this woman intrigued him. Underneath that no nonsense veneer, there was a vulnerability that made him want to hold her, comfort her, ease whatever was troubling her. In less than a night, she got under his skin.

How the hell could that happen?

Luke scowled. The only thing he could think of was that she was different...special. Yes, that was the word. How he knew that, he didn't have a bloody clue. Wanting someone he couldn't have was such a bitch. He needed to get her out of his system. Cilla's proposal earlier became more attractive by the minute, but his cock wasn't having any of it. It softened the minute he thought of his current weekender. Damn his package for having a mind of its own!

"Move, please."

Her voice took him from his musings. A voice he wanted to hear mewl softly if he had the opportunity to have sex with her. "Sorry?"

"I need to get home, and I wouldn't want to be accused of a hit and run."

Reluctantly, Luke stepped back. He watched her throw her purse into the passenger seat before removing her coat. As she shrugged the thick material off her shoulders, her dark silk blouse briefly cupped her breasts. Lust slammed through him. His hands itched to caress those peaks, remembering the moment he brushed against her nipple as he went out of the bar's doors. She had been aware of what had happened. He saw it in her eyes before he banked the desire that shone like a beacon in his own. When he brushed against her nipple, his cock stirred, straining against the zipper of his trousers. He wanted to skim his hands down her waist, her hips. To cup her ass and squeeze them as he let her hips cradle his arousal. He swallowed the groan that escaped his lips when she entered the car. She was halfway inside, with her right leg still on the pavement. Her skirt eased up a bit to show more of her sheer black stocking encased leg. Luke wondered how it would have felt for both her legs to wrap around his waist as he thrust hard and fast into her. Then suddenly she lifted her leg into the car before closing the door, ending the mental striptease.

This woman was going to be the death of him!

She switched on the engine and her window silently slid down. She smiled softly. To Luke, her smile could have lit up the entire street.

"Thanks for your help. It was kind of you."

And then she was gone.

Luke remained by the side of the road a long time after, his funk forgotten, but he was sure of one thing.

He had fallen for a married woman.

Hard.

*  *  *

One thing Gracie didn't like was being late for a meeting. After the mishap the night before, spending the much needed time with Flynn and reading to him so that he could go to sleep only gave her a couple of hours to make heads or tails of the reports she left spread out on the dining table. While she worked, Theresa stayed instead of going to her own house which was just a few blocks away. She plied Gracie with coffee while she read or dozed off on the sofa. Gracie told her mother to stay in the spare room, but her mother refused, staying on the sofa to watch telly until she made herself comfortable and fell asleep. By four in the morning, Gracie was done and whatever time she had left to catch a few moments of sleep was spent thinking of the stranger the night before and the moment that she felt he was going to kiss her.

And she stopped it.

She groaned at the thought of all the what ifs. She deliberately didn't get his name to easily forget him. Like that would stop her mind churning. Even without a name he haunted her thoughts if only for a while before his face tapered off like the mist. Moral of the past night—parking close to a bar was hazardous to a person’s libido.

Now as she waited in the reception area of Bryce Engineering LLP, she needed to get a grip and concentrate on the meeting. She couldn't make her presentation if she kept on thinking about the sexy stranger now, could she? She'd be all hot and bothered and maybe sound like Marilyn Monroe. That would be nice, though the wrong place to do so.

She twisted to face the floor-to-ceiling glass windows behind her, her hair gently falling around her shoulders. She righted herself and realised that someone stood in front of her. Someone male, his scent making her inhale sharply. Lime. Cool lime. Fresh. Crisp. Sexy. Her eyes travelled the length of the denim clad thighs, to the fit torso encased in a button down shirt and fall coat, all the way up to the quirking mouth and the sexy but amused eyes.

Oh…my…God.

And she thought she'd never see him again, but he was here. The sexy stranger who caressed her face without even touching her and made her heart flutter. There was no doubt in her mind that he was a man other women would fight to be his arm candy, with his cleanly cut wavy hair, and the dark brows that slashed over those amazing blue orbs that had the ability to look deep into her soul and see her secrets. The daylight allowed her to appreciate him more, to assess his chiselled face, aquiline nose, and those full firm lips that were trying to hide a smile as his eyes perused her.

"Like what you see?"

Colour flooded Gracie's cheeks, but she arched a brow. "Like what you see?"

"Touché.” His eyes sparkled with laughter. “Hi."

Gracie's mouth was suddenly dry. "Hi." She cleared the hoarseness from her voice. "Hi."

"What are you doing here?" he asked with a smile, a dimple forming on his right cheek.

She took a deep breath to gather her wits about her and calm her heart. "I'm here to speak to Luke Bryce."

He raised a brow. "Really? Why? Are you going to tell on me?"

"What?" Her eyes widened. "No! Why would I tell on you? You didn’t do anything wrong. Do you work here?" Crap, her mouth was like a no brake train.

He nodded, his eyes twinkling.

Gracie was seriously changing her view about him. Sexy yes. Arrogant, absolutely!

"Then why are you here?"

Gracie's forehead briefly puckered. "Uh...that's between Mr. Bryce and me."

He looked taken aback before his eyes crinkled. "You're right. It's none of my business. I didn't mean to pry." He sat down beside her. Gracie not only felt how the sofa depressed under his weight, but also felt the body heat through his clothes that made her want to slide closer.

"Aren't you supposed to get to work? That might be a reason to tell your boss."

"It's okay. We operate on flexi-time." He shrugged.

"Your boss must really be laid back to allow his employees to take their sweet time getting work done," she quipped.

"Yeah, he is," he murmured. "Did you get home all right?"

"Yes, I did. Thanks for asking." Gracie looked at the receptionist, who continued to work on her computer before looking at her watch.

Her sexy stranger looked at the receptionist as well.

"Is there anything wrong?"

"My meeting should have started five minutes ago and the receptionist doesn't seem bothered that he's late."

"Oh, he's here. Probably got caught up with something important."

"I hope he finishes up soon." Gracie sighed. "I need to get back to the office and deal with the other accounts."
And I want to get home and get more sleep.
Morning fatigue wasn’t something she cared for.

"I see," he said before looking down at his hands, then giving her a quick smile. "Let me find out, and I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks," she said, a smile tugging at her mouth. "Seems like you have a habit of saving women in distress."

"Only you." He looked at her a minute longer, an emotion flitting through his gaze before it was banked.

Gracie's cheeks warmed and butterflies suddenly decided to tiptoe through the tulips inside her belly. Was her handsome stranger flirting with her?

Where the hell did the possessive phrase 'my handsome stranger' come from?

When he left, that side of her body near to where he sat immediately felt bereft. She swallowed hard as she looked at the way his denims fit him perfectly. Her heart raced at the thought of squeezing those ass cheeks. And the body. In her three-inch heels, the top of her head had merely reached his shoulders. He was broad shouldered, with narrow hips and thighs that spoke of the power underneath. He looked as though he worked out a lot, but the handshake he gave her the night before spoke of working hands. As though he wasn't afraid of manual labour. Gracie's body started to wake, her blood sluggish from the lack of attention, perking up as though sensing another body's blood waking it from its stupor. It was in the way her breast seemed to swell inside her bra and the sudden tingle trickling down her spine to tease the apex of her thighs. It was something she hadn't felt in a very long time. Her imagination started to run rampant. What else would she find underneath those clothes? How would it feel to touch his skin before he hovered over her as they...

Crap! This is so not happening!
Her face heated up at her imagination that swirled around like a cocktail being twirled by a finger.

Get a grip!
Try as she might, Gracie couldn't stop her body's upheaval. The closer he got, the more her core clenched in the most delicious of ways. She closed her eyes just for a second. She needed to look indifferent, that she didn't care, that this stranger wreaking havoc to her senses wasn’t really affecting her. She pursed her lips as she inhaled deeply. She wanted to badly fan herself as his words sensually made their way through her bloodstream. She sat up straight when he returned. Heartbeat still racing, she stood up so fast that she almost lost her balance at the slight giddiness.

"Find out anything?" Gracie was only too glad that her voice didn't sound breathless.

"Yes, I did," he said. "I've told the receptionist that I'll take you to him. He's waiting for you."

Her eyes widened. Why wasn't she told? A crease formed on her forehead.

"No harm done." He winked.

Gracie felt heat rising up her cheeks again. This guy was going to think that she was having a rosacea flare up! As she walked behind her sexy stranger, she looked at the receptionist, who smiled at her genuinely before looking at the man walking ahead of her. Alarm bells started ringing inside Gracie's head, and she didn't know why.

He walked farther down the corridor and opened the door to the CEO's office. Gracie entered and waited for the door to close. The office was very utilitarian. It didn't have the opulent trappings of panelled walls with a bar filled with the best liquor or an expensive oil painting as the room's focal point. There was a desk to one side of the room where two wing back chairs faced it. On the desk were several files neatly stacked to one side and several open blueprints set on the other. The wall behind the desk was a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that gave her a view of the other buildings that dotted Manchester's business district in Spinning Fields. A filing cabinet sat on one corner and beside it was a leather couch with a low coffee table.

No one was inside.

Gracie turned around. Her sexy stranger had his arms crossed as he leaned on the door. Her body heated at the way he looked at her as though he was mentally undressing her. Her breasts suddenly felt heavy, aching to be held by those firm hands and stroked by those long tapered fingers. Her core tightened at the mental images her mind created, and she almost closed her eyes when she felt her sex's muscles twitch.