PLAYING DIRTY WITH THE HOT CEO

chapter 16

Heidi

When we finish our ice creams, we head back home so we can have a few hours’ rest before we go out for the evening.

Titus declares he’s going to do a bit of work and sets up his laptop, so I leave him to it, go outside, and spend a while gardening. I water the begonias in the hanging baskets, clip the hedge at the bottom, and weed the borders between the hydrangeas, roses, dahlias, and peonies.

When I’m done, I check my watch and discover it’s nearly five p.m. I wash my hands, then go into the living room to find his laptop tucked next to the chair and the room empty. He must be in the bedroom. I run up the stairs, intending to go into the bathroom to freshen up, then stop short. The door’s open, and he’s in there, stripped to the waist, standing in front of the mirror, shaving.

“s**t,” I say as he turns around, “sorry.”

I was wearing a bikini top underneath my T-shirt today. I took the tee off while I was gardening, and I haven’t put it back on, and he does a double take before lifting his gaze to mine.

“I’m only shaving,” he says, amused, as I continue to stare at him. He looks back at his reflection, carefully drawing the razor up his throat. “What time do you want to leave?”

“I… um…” It’s no good. My ability to form words has vanished. Wow, this guy has an amazing body. He’s all tanned and muscular, and oh my God, I thought he only had tattoos on his arms, but he also has an amazing one across his back of a raven with its wings spread. I’ve never had a thing about guys with tattoos before, but there’s something incredibly sexy about a guy who normally wears a suit having tattoos underneath. He looks like a Viking warrior, and he steals my breath away.

He looks back at me as he rinses his razor in the water, and stops as he sees the look on my face. “What?”

I just shake my head, unable to speak.

He meets my eyes for a long moment, then looks back at his reflection. He gives a couple of final strokes of the razor before bending to rinse the last of the foam from his face. I watch his muscles move across his shoulders and ribs, before finally he picks up the towel and mops up the drips.

I still can’t speak. He rinses the sink, hangs the towel over the rack, and then unscrews the top of a bottle of aftershave. He tips a little onto his hands, rubs them together, and touches them to his face, wincing as it obviously stings. I feel entranced, as if he’s put me under a spell, and I can’t look away.

He picks up his tee, walks toward me, and turns to the side to squeeze past me in the doorway. Oh Jesus, he smells amazing. When our bodies are flush, he stops, the bare skin of his chest just brushing my n*****s in the bikini top. The heat from his skin sizzles on my belly. He looks down at me the same way he did in the church, his green eyes hot, the pupils dilated. Oh… I want him to kiss me so badly. My pulse is racing so fast I’m sure he can hear it.

He takes a deep breath, then exhales in a huff. “You’re like the f*****g Temptation of St Anthony,” he says, somewhat sulkily. He continues to move past me, goes into his room, and shuts the door with a little more force than is necessary.

My breath leaves me in a rush. Holy s**t. I’m tingling all over. I’ve never ached for a guy like this. Never been so desperate for him to kiss me that I’m tempted to leap up into his arms, wrap my legs around his waist, and crush my lips to his.

I wonder what he’d do if I did that?

Going into the bathroom, I close the door and walk over to look in the mirror. I’m blushing, and oh no, my neck and chest have flushed, too, the way they do when I’m aroused. No wonder he looked at me with such exasperation.

I feel a touch of shame. It’s not fair to be a prick tease. My brother’s friendship means a lot to him, and as much as I want him, it means a lot to me that he’s trying to resist his obvious attraction to me. I don’t want to sleep with him and then have him hate himself afterward.

After freshening up, I quietly go out and into my bedroom and close the door. I spend half an hour getting ready, then take a deep breath and go downstairs.

He’s sitting on the sofa, reading a book, although he looks up as I enter. He’s wearing jeans and a long-sleeved dress shirt over the top that’s a dark navy with a white paisley pattern, with the sleeves rolled up a couple of times.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.” I’m also wearing jeans with a white sparkly vest and a three-quarter sleeve black jacket. “You look nice,” I add. “Very swish.”

“Swish?”

“Sophisticated. Fashionable. Smooth.”

“Thank you, so do you.” He puts down the book—it’s one of mine, I realize, from the bookshelf, a history of Anglo-Saxon England—and gets to his feet. “I want to apologize for what I said upstairs,” he says.

I blink. “What do you mean?”

“About you tempting me. I hope you didn’t think I was saying you were doing it on purpose.”

“Oh. No.” I tuck my hair behind my ear.

He moves a bit closer to me, and his eyes are gentle. “You know why we can’t get involved, don’t you?”

I nod. “I know Oliver means a lot to you.”

“I promised him I’d look after you. He said he knows he can trust me, and I don’t want to betray that trust.”

I feel a flare of irritation toward my brother. “You know he probably said that to wind you up.” He blinks, and I realize that hadn’t occurred to him. “It’s none of his business who I choose to date,” I point out. Then I relent, “but it doesn’t change the fact that I live in England, and you live in New Zealand. It makes sense not to start something we can’t continue.”

“Mm.” His gaze drops to my mouth. He’s thinking about kissing me again.

A car horn sounds outside, and I jump. “That’s the Uber.”

He sighs and grabs his wallet. “Come on, then.”

Half relieved and half annoyed at the interruption, I retrieve my bag, and we go out and get in the Uber. It heads toward the A38, then southwest toward Plymouth.

“So who are we meeting tonight?” Titus asks.

“My friends Ally and Donna—they’re both primary school teachers that I met in my first year at a training center. Ally’s the same age as me, she’s an artist, quite flamboyant, and she’s dating Jack, who’s a nurse. Donna is two years older, and her degree is in biology. She’s married to Ian. He’s a lawyer, but don’t let that put you off—he’s really nice.” She smiles.

“I presume they know Jason?”

“Yeah, we went out a few times all together, but to be honest, Jason never really fitted in. He thought Ally was ditzy and Donna was bossy, and after we broke up, both Jack and Ian admitted they thought he was arrogant.”

“Do they know I’m coming?”

“Yeah, I’ve told them about you.”

“So where are we going?”

“It’s a restaurant up on the Hoe.”

“That’s where Francis Drake played bowls, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s right. He circumnavigated the world, and he was second-in-command when the Spanish Armada was defeated.”

“Should be fun,” he says.

“I hope so. Thank you for coming with me. And I apologize in advance if they tease you at all.”

Roman Empire

“Don’t worry about it. I’m a big boy.”

“So I’ve heard.”

He gives a short laugh. “Don’t start.”

“Sorry.”

He smiles. “So, tell me about Plymouth. It was bombed during the Second World War, wasn’t it?”

We chat about the city for a while as the Uber winds through the traffic, and it’s close to six thirty by the time we get to the Hoe. I point out the red-and-white-striped Smeaton’s Tower as we pass it, and then the Uber pulls up outside Seagulls Restaurant, and we get out.

It has a great view across Plymouth Sound, which is slowly turning orange as the sun sinks toward the horizon.

“They’re already here,” I say, seeing the cars out the front, and I wave as I spot them through the window. “Come on.”

I surprise myself by feeling nervous as we go in, and I realize it’s because I want them to like Titus. “Hello!” I call out as we approach the table.

“Heidi!” They all smile and stand to greet us. They kiss me on the cheek, but I can see that all they’re interested in is the guy I’m with. “This is Titus Oates,” I tell them.

“Like the Antarctic explorer?” Jack asks as we take our seats.

“Actually,” I say, “that Titus was named after the priest who created the Catholic conspiracy to kill King Charles the Second in 1649.”

“Does she drive you mad when she does that?” Ally wants to know as we pick up our menus. “She’s always coming out with historical facts or quoting dates.”

“Not at all,” he says. “I’m learning a lot. By the way, Heidi, I’ve got a historical joke for you. How was the Roman Empire cut in half?”

“Dunno,” I say.

“With a pair of Caesars.” He grins.

I snort, and the others start laughing. “Don’t encourage him,” I tell them.

“He’s going to fit in well,” Ian replies, still chortling, and I meet Titus’s eyes and smile.

It turns out to be an understatement. Titus is relatively quiet and thoughtful, and so I keep forgetting that he runs a company and is used to talking to groups of people. He doesn’t dominate the conversation, and he’s happy to sit and listen as we chat, but he isn’t shy to join in, and his wry sense of humor keeps us laughing throughout the evening as we choose our meals, then sit and chat over a few glasses of wine.

“Another historical joke for you,” he says while we wait for our desserts to arrive. “What’s the most popular kids’ movie about Ancient Greece?”

“Dunno,” we all say.

“Troy Story.”

I giggle, which makes Ally and Donna laugh.

He grins and says, “Excuse me, just going to visit the bathroom,” and he gets up and leaves the table.

I watch him walk away, unable to tear my gaze away from his butt in the tight jeans, then drag my gaze back to the table to see the four of them watching me, smiling.

“What?” I say, embarrassed.

“He’s lovely,” Ally states.

I smile. “I’m glad you like him.”

“He’s really going back next week?” Donna asks.

I sigh. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

“And you’re just good friends?” Jack wants to know.

“Just good friends.”

“Bullshit,” Ally says. “He hasn’t been able to tear his eyes away from you all evening.”

I blush. “I’m not saying we wouldn’t if we could… but I can’t. Not after Jason.”

Their smiles slowly fade. “Aw,” Ian says. “You shouldn’t let that fucker stop you having fun.”

“No, I agree,” I reply, “but Titus has to leave soon, and I don’t want to get hurt.”

“Fair enough,” Ally says softly. “It’s a shame though. He seems really into you.”

Her comment warms me. I can see him coming back through the restaurant, and I have to stifle a sigh at the sight of him, striding confidently through the tables, the women in the room unable to stop casting him glances as he walks by. I like him so much. It’s a shame our timing is so appalling.

“Can’t you just have a holiday fling?” Donna whispers just before he arrives.

“Shh!” I smile brightly at him as he sits again, glancing around. A holiday fling… That would be dumb, wouldn’t it? I’m pretty sure the Striking Viking would be a very easy man to fall in love with, and that’s never going to end well.