Say You Will (17 page)

Beatrice tipped her head, her lips pursed with feigned contemplation. “Perhaps you should sit with her then.”

Niamh arrived with a saucy smile and elbowed Nick’s side. “Joining the party?”

“A couple pints for us,” he said, looking questioningly at the ladies.

“Yes, please,” Viola said as she lifted her shot glass.

“No.” Beatrice took the glass from her sister’s hand and stood. “I’m taking Vi home.”

“No,
cara
.” Luca took her hand and placed it on his chest, over his heart. “Stay with me for this one drink.”

She patted his chest and withdrew her hand. “If you have trouble drinking on your own, I’ll make sure she brings you a straw.”

Nick chuckled under his breath.

The cat burglar—Portia?—raised her hand. “I’ll stay. I’ll have another.”

Luca lifted his brow at Beatrice. “Your sister is very amenable.”

“If you find out how amenable she is, I’ll hang you by your bollocks.” Bea smiled as sweetly as a shark and took Viola in hand. “You’re fine, Rosalind?”

“Of course.” She waved them off. “I’ll see you later.”

Luca sighed lustily as he watched them leave. “
That
is a magnificent woman.”

“She eats men’s balls for lunch,” the cat burglar said.

“Even better.” He turned his wicked smile on Rosalind. “
Cara
, you must be the one Nico pines for.”

Nick pushed the Italian back and sat on the stool next to Rosalind. “His English isn’t very good.”

“I understand him.” Portia looked primly at the race car driver. “Have you been in London long?”

Luca shook his head, smiling at Niamh as she set their drinks on the bar. “I’m here only to convince Nico—”

Nick kicked him under the table.

“—that he should race me.” The Italian looked at him with narrow calculation. Then he returned his slick smile to the women. “I am a Formula One driver.”

“Are you good?” Portia asked, making a face as she sipped her drink.

“The best.” He faced Rosalind. “Nico is also good at many things, including driving, but not as good as me.”

Rosalind smiled. “I wouldn’t think so, since you race for a living.”

Luca gave him a look. Then he said, “Nico races—”

“Me racing is a mad thought,” he interrupted, taking a sip of his beer.

“Is it?” Luca tipped his head as if imagining it. “Perhaps we should test it with a race. Now.”

Aware of Rosalind’s questioning gaze on him, he explained, “Luca likes to test his Ferrari against my Lotus. He won’t accept that you can’t beat British engineering. Italians are all flash and no substance.”

“That’s a shame. I’ve never seen a race before. It seems like something a bad girl would do.”

He heard the promise in her voice—so did certain parts of his body that perked immediately to attention. A drag race through the sleepy streets of London with Rosalind at his side was a potent aphrodisiac concocted just for him.

Luca knocked his arm. “You see,
caro
? We should race. You will take the fair Rosalind, and I’ll take beautiful Portia, and we’ll see who’s all flash.”

“Let’s do it.” Portia downed her drink and set it on the table.

Nick glanced down at his beer, barely touched. Just as well since they were apparently going to drive hard. He pushed it aside and stood. “We left the cars at home.”

“It’s a short walk,” Luca assured Portia, offering her his arm in courtly fashion.

He and Rosalind let them walk ahead. She slipped her hand in his and spoke softly to him. “I’m excited about this.”

“I can tell.” He shook his head. “This is a bad idea. I hope you have someone who’ll bail you out.”

She grinned up at him. “I think I know someone with legal knowledge I can call on.”

He mentally winced. Bloody hell, he was sinking in more and more. He needed to have a talk with Summer again and have her straighten this all out.

They arrived at his house. Luca’s Ferrari sat indolently at the curb behind his Lotus. They went to their respective cars after designating their route, which included a lap around Hyde Park and back.

Luca saluted him. “Leave the windows up,
caro
, so you don’t choke on my dust.”

Nick shook his head, letting Rosalind in before going around to the driver’s side.

“I like Luca,” she declared as she buckled herself in.

“He has that effect on women.”

“He’s your BFF.”

“My what?” he asked as he fastened his seatbelt.

“Your best friend forever.”

“He’s more like a thorn in my side.” He looked at her. “Are you ready for this?”

“I cannot wait.” She grinned at him.

He pulled out next to where Luca waited for him in the street. The Italian grinned mockingly at him and then tore off.

Cursing under his breath, he zipped off after him. His car woke up instantly, eager to play. He let her loose.

Next to him, Rosalind laughed in delight. He kept his eyes on the road, knowing better than to get distracted while he was going so fast.

Luca had a decent lead on him, but he knew the streets better than the Italian. The other racer hesitated at one corner just enough to allow Nick to downshift and zip around him.

“Yes!” Rosalind laughed, her fist in the air, cheering him on. “We’ve got this.”

Inspired by her enthusiasm, he pumped the pedal and took it home. He glanced in the rearview mirror a couple times, wondering why Luca wasn’t trying to make a move to pass on the straightaways—if he knew his opponent, the Ferrari was modified for optimal performance.

He slowed to a stop in front of his house. The moment he turned the car off, Rosalind threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. “You’re a natural racer. Luca was right.”

He winced into her hair, where she couldn’t see him. “Those are words not often uttered.”

She laughed. “That was so much fun! I’m glad Luca convinced you to do it.”

He was going to kill that wanker for opening this can of worms. “You’re more of bad girl than I thought.”

She looked at him with a glint in her eyes. “And I’m going to show you how bad.”

Luca rolled up alongside him. Grinning, he gave them a salute and roared off with Portia.

“Take me in,” Rosalind said. “Bad girls don’t have patience.”

He hoped that wasn’t true—or else he hoped there was enough good in there to forgive him when she found out the truth about him.

Chapter Twenty-two

The man in her collage looked like Joe.

Em frowned at the board. How had she not noticed that before?

No wonder she was having issues. She ripped the man she was supposed to marry from the collage, crumpled him up, and tossed him in the trash. Then she took a cleansing breath.

Better. She’d find someone more like Ben and paste him on, and then everything would be on track again.

The elevator door opened, and a woman walked out. She strode toward the reception desk like she owned the world, each clack of her heels punctuating her sassy attitude. Her clothing was immaculate and moved with her body.

Em smiled at her. Most women would have been jealous, but not her. She’d never wanted power or expensive things. Just a home and a family. “Welcome to Orson & Tomlin,” she said as the woman stopped before her.

“I’m here to see Joe Winslow,” the woman said.

Em’s smile faded. She started to ask why, but she caught herself in time. “Is he expecting you?”

“No.” But the woman’s cat-like smile implied he wouldn’t mind.

Of course he wouldn’t. Wanker. Em punched his number into the phone.

He answered right away. “Miss me?” he said in a sex-me-up voice.

Wanker
. “
Sir
, there’s someone here to see you.”

“Who is it?”

“Why don’t you come out and see?” She slammed the phone down and bared her teeth at the woman. “He’ll be right out.”

The woman gave her a strange look and sat in the reception area. She picked up a magazine and idly flipped through it.

She
would
pick the French
Vogue
. Em gritted her teeth, trying not to glare at her. It wasn’t the woman’s fault she was absolutely fabulous. She probably had wonderful, rich parents who cared for her and sent her to the best schools. Em had been lucky if they hadn’t sold her clothes for money to buy alcohol.

She saw Joe the moment he strode down the hall. He flashed his swaggering grin as he approached. But then he saw the Victoria’s Secret model waiting for him and his face lit up.

Em felt like she was going to light up too—like an angry firecracker.

He lifted his brow. “Why—”

“Your
guest
is there.” She tipped her head toward the woman.

“I know. But—”

“You don’t want to keep her waiting, do you?” Say yes, she silently urged him.

Giving her an odd look, he turned and smiled brightly at the woman. “Cressida, this is a wonderful surprise.”

His guest looked just as pleased to see him. She jumped up and kissed him on both checks, of course. He held her waist, talking to her in a low voice. She watched them walk back to his office, the door closing behind them, cutting off the woman’s trilling laugh.

She stabbed a pen into her collage, knowing she was being completely irrational about this. She didn’t own him.

Own him? She didn’t even want him. She bowed her head and stared at her collage. Ben was the one she’d earmarked.

She pouted, staring at his door, her mind churning through everything they could be doing. She’d been in his office—she knew what happened in there firsthand.

She slammed a fist over her collage and then folded it and put it away. It was useless.

Someone touched her shoulder, and she whirled in her chair to find Summer standing next to her, looking concerned. “Are you okay?” her friend asked. “Because you’re muttering.”

Em glared at her. “Do I look okay?”

Summer took her by the arm. “Come with me.”

“I can’t leave. I’m the reception.”

She waved to a passing assistant. Smiling in her friendly way, Summer said, “Watch the phones, will you? I need to discuss an important case with Em.”

The assistant looked confused but shrugged and sat down. Summer had that effect on people.

Sighing, Em trudged after her friend. “I’m absolutely livid,” she exclaimed as Summer closed her office door.

Smiling, her friend perched on the edge of her desk. “I wouldn’t have noticed.”

She threw her hands in the air. “I don’t even know why I’m so angry.”

“At Joe?”

“Of course at Joe.” She glared at Summer. “Who else would cause this sort of emotion?”

“Not anyone I know.”

“Exactly.” She paced back and forth in front of the desk, the frustration boiling in her chest, right at her throat where it threatened to bubble up. “I don’t even want him.”

“That’s not the way it looks from my perspective.” Summer pursed her lips. “Weren’t you after a man who owns a coffee shop or something?”

“Yes.” She crossed her arms and pouted. “He asked me out.”

“Oh,” Summer said, perking up.

“I haven’t agreed.”

Realization dawned on her friend’s face, and she nodded. “Because of Joe.”

“No, I just haven’t gotten around to it,” Em said stubbornly.

“Are you really going to lie to yourself? I’ve seen the way you and Joe look at each other.”

“How is that?”

“Like you want to tear your clothes off and eat each other up.”

“
No
.” Em shook her finger. “There will be no eating. We’re work acquaintances, nothing more.”

“The sexual energy between you two is incredible.” Summer rotated her foot, looking at her shoe. “You know there’s a bet going around the office for when you two shag.”

“
What?”
She clapped her hands to her face. “That’s horrible.”

“Is it that off base?”

“Yes, it really is.” Despite the flirting and the kisses. She shook her head. “I have a plan. I want a family. I don’t have time for an office fling.”

Summer frowned. “Is that what Joe wants?”

She threw her hands in the air. “I have no idea what he wants.”

“Maybe you should ask him.” She stood up. “Because he clearly wants you, and I’ve never known Joe to go after anyone at the office.”

“It’s just a sexual thing,” she muttered morosely, crossing her arms. “I want forever, not someone who’s going to use me and then leave me.”

Summer’s brows lifted. “That doesn’t sound like Joe. But if you’re so determined to stay away from him, then it shouldn’t bother you who comes to see him, should it?”

Em glared at her friend. “I hate lawyer logic.”

Smiling, Summer squeezed her arm. “Just remember Joe isn’t who you want.”

“Joe isn’t who I want,” she murmured all the way back to her desk. “Joe isn’t who I want.”

But the moment Joe and the model walked out of his office her teeth gritted. She ducked her head, pretending to be engrossed with something at her desk, but the woman’s husky laughter as they waited by the elevator got to her. She hopped up and strode to the ladies room, not caring that she was leaving the desk unattended. This was an emergency.

She turned on the faucet and leaned against the counter, looking at herself in the mirror. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright. She looked both furious and aroused.

She hated it. Not caring that she’d mess up her makeup, she cupped her hands and splashed water on her face.

She heard the restroom door open but she ignored it, relishing the cool water. Eyes closed, she reached blindly for a paper towel to blot her face.

Her hand came into contact with a hand that held a towel out for her. A masculine hand.

Her nipples peaked—damn it—and she glared as she snatched the towel and blotted her face. She glared up at Joe. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his gaze searching hers.

She glared at him. “Absolutely nothing.”

He frowned. “This isn’t about Cressida, is it? She’s an old chum from uni.”

“Yes, you two were certainly chummy.”

He grinned suddenly. “You’re jealous.”