The Fiancé by Stefanie London

Her Playboy Crush

by Nicola Marsh

CHAPTER ONE

‘RYDER’SBACKINTOWN.’

Four words designed to strike fear into Polly Scanlon’s guarded heart as she glared at her brother Archie, smirking knowingly at her from his perch atop the stepladder.

‘So?’

She shrugged, well aware that Archie of all people wouldn’t buy her forced nonchalance for a second as she handed him a hammer.

‘Just thought you’d like to know.’ He grinned, well aware of her never-ending mortification at the hands of his charming friend.

Ryder Beale had been born to make her life a misery. A fact he’d never let her forget during her painful teenage years and beyond. He’d teased her about everything, from training bras to geeky grades, his sole aim being to make her blush.

God help her if Archie knew the rest.

‘You should’ve defended me all those years,’ she said, propping herself against a sheet-covered armoire. ‘Encouraging a guy like Ryder is like giving a kid red cordial and letting him loose in a lolly shop.’

Archie chuckled. ‘You’re the only little sis I have. Par for the course I’d get a laugh out of seeing you squirm.’

‘Bastard.’

‘Love you too.’ He winked and blew her a kiss. ‘Now pass me the pack of hooks, please.’

She wondered why Ryder was back in town. It had been over five years since he’d last come home. She’d initially been glad when he’d left Sydney after high school; at least that’s what she kept telling herself. She’d been a pining sixteen-year-old at the time, her crush on her older, sexier next-door neighbour a secret she’d shielded behind clever quips and constant sparring.

Ryder had never failed to get a rise out of her, but it had been their thing and she’d missed it after he’d left. He’d returned to Sydney intermittently since then and their banter had only intensified: lots of smartass word play, too much sexual tension on her part. He’d never treated her as anything other than an annoying friend.

Now Ryder was back in town and her ovaries couldn’t help but leap for joy.

She handed Archie the hooks. ‘So what’s the PITA doing in Sydney anyway?’

Not that she was interested. Much.

‘The pain in the ass is here to plan my thirtieth, apparently.’ Archie hammered a few nails through the first hook’s eye and she winced at the noise. ‘Something a sibling should do, you know.’

Polly flipped her middle finger at him. ‘You hate parties.’

‘Not the kind Ryder organises.’ He tossed the hammer and caught it, a move he’d got down pat since he’d started renovating his place six months ago. ‘When one of his private school buddies turned twenty-one he had the top ten placed girls in a local beauty pageant attend.’

Polly snorted and ignored the stab of jealousy at the thought of Ryder anywhere near beauty pageant contestants. Then again, she’d seen enough of the kind of women he’d hung out with over the years. Ever since he’d become a life coach much in demand on the talk show circuit, he’d been featured in magazines and articles online, some of which depicted him attending parties, usually with a beautiful woman on his arm. His playboy reputation had escalated along with his fame and while she’d never begrudge him his burgeoning career, she could do without seeing the gorgeous, glamorous women he favoured these days.

Not that she should care. They’d never been more than friends—he’d never given her the slightest hint he knew about her crush or reciprocated it—but seeing Ryder with those women made her yearn for a dartboard. It was crazy, considering she was older and wiser now, and someone like him would never go for someone like her, even if she was foolish enough to indulge her old crush a tad.

‘You know you’ll more than likely get a strippergram and a case of tequila.’

Archie slipped the hammer into his tool belt and rubbed his hands together. ‘Counting on it.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

‘It’ll be a blast.’ He came down the ladder. ‘Maybe you can both be party planners together?’

‘Not bloody likely,’ she blurted, earning another wide-eared grin from Archie.

If she didn’t know any better she’d think he knew about her long-term crush on his best friend. But that couldn’t be right because if Archie knew he would’ve warned her off Ryder and teased her endlessly about it.

He dusted off his hands and wiped them on a towel tucked into his tool belt. ‘Why don’t you ponder helping Ryder throw me the best thirtieth party ever while you make a start on sanding the skirting boards in the guest bedroom and I make a quick trip to the hardware store?’

‘Fine,’ she muttered, agreeing to the physical labour. Pondering anything remotely to do with Ryder? No way in hell.

‘Back in ten,’ he said, unbuckling his tool belt, grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

Leaving Polly doing exactly as he’d instructed: pondering working alongside Ryder to plan Archie’s party. As if.

She may not have spent much time with Ryder in five years, but he’d been the bane of her existence for fourteen years before that. She’d been eight, Archie ten, when the Beales had moved in next door and Ryder and Archie had been besties ever since.

While she’d struggled socially, he’d been the most popular boy in school. While she’d sucked at sports, he’d excelled at football, cricket, soccer and hockey. While she had still been trying to break into her coveted field of statistics, he’d managed to build a stellar career in life coaching, completing his psychology degree and becoming a revered speaker.

Ryder had appeared in countless online magazines, had been interviewed by the talk show elite and had cut a swathe through gorgeous women from Rome to New York. He’d led a charmed life. Hers was finally kicking off at the ripe old age of twenty-seven.

She’d landed her dream opportunity at Sizzle, Sydney’s hippest fashion house. Now all she had to do was kick ass with the upcoming fundraiser she’d been placed in charge of and she could climb the corporate ladder to where she wanted to be: number crunching in the glam fashion world to which she’d been drawn her entire life.

A long, low wolf whistle interrupted her musings. ‘Looking good, Pollyanna.’

Polly stiffened, the muscles in her neck tightening so fast they hurt. That voice. Deep. Taunting, with a hint of huskiness that never failed to send a shiver of longing through her. She turned slowly, reluctantly, to find Ryder leaning in the doorway from the kitchen to the lounge, grinning at her like he’d just spied his favourite dessert.

‘That’s not my name,’ she said, sounding cool and collected, feeling anything but.

There was something about the way Ryder looked at her, had always looked at her, that made her want to apply lashings of mascara, slick crimson gloss on her lips and slip into something a lot less comfortable.

‘It should be, considering your altruistic view of the world.’ He straightened and strode towards her, making her hormones do a weird little jive. ‘Still seeing everything in black and white?’

‘Nothing wrong with cold, hard facts,’ she said, her fingers digging into the wood of the armoire to anchor her in a world suddenly off kilter.

Her pulse raced and her palms grew clammy, physical signs of a purely visceral response whenever this guy got too close. She should be over this, over him. Not that there was anything to get over beyond a lot of fanciful notions in her own head. But she’d spent too many teen years secretly lusting after him to pretend he didn’t affect her, because this grown-up version of Ryder was even sexier than his younger counterpart.

‘No room for grey, huh?’ He stopped two feet in front of her. Close enough to smell his designer aftershave with a hint of spice. Close enough to see the green flecks in his hazel eyes. Close enough to want to touch that broad chest and lean waist and...lower.

She’d seen him bare-chested before, when he’d kick the soccer ball around with Archie in their backyard, and over the years when she’d give in to the temptation of searching his name online and find pictures of him standing on top of a cliff face he’d just scaled or diving with sharks. In both those instances his glorious bronze chest had been on full display and she’d ended up having a restless sleep because of it.

It was stupid to still be fantasising over him all these years later, but those naughty notions in the middle of the night were nothing on having him this close.

Would his chest be as hard as it looked?

Would her hands fit in the dip of his waist?

Would the clearly delineated lines of his abs be traceable with her fingertips as she dipped beneath his waistband?

How big would he be...?

Polly swallowed and a fine sheen of perspiration broke out on her forehead.

‘You’re blushing.’ The tip of his thumb grazed her cheek, sending a jolt of longing so strong through her body that she almost swayed towards him. ‘What’s got you all hot and bothered?’

If he only knew. But Polly could never let on how he made her feel. She’d had enough mortification in her life when it came to guys to let the uber-confident Ryder Beale figure out her pathetic crush and how many times she’d imagined riding him until he made her scream.

‘I’m not blushing; I’ve just been working too hard being Archie’s slave.’

She fanned her face regardless because her cheeks were flaming. Like that would help. She needed a dunk in an ice bath to cool off.

‘Don’t let him push you around.’ His mouth quirked into a sexy smile as he reached out and tugged the ends of her shoulder-length hair. ‘This is new.’

Damn, she wished he’d stop touching her—or at least make it count.

‘I lost the pigtails about ten years ago, and you’ve seen me since then,’ she said, hating how her breathlessness at his proximity made her voice squeaky.

‘You didn’t have this layered look last time I saw you,’ he said. ‘I like it.’ He wound a few strands around his fingers until they reached her hairline. ‘I like it a lot.’

What the hell was he doing? He never touched her, ever, and she’d wondered whether to be grateful or insulted. She’d seen the way he’d been with other girls all those years ago, playful and flirtatious, charming the pants off them—probably literally. She’d been jealous and yearning, hiding her envy behind cutting quips. But he’d never flirted with her; instead he’d tease her the same way Archie did. She’d hated being treated like his younger sister too.

So what had changed now? Had he grown tired of his playthings around the world and wanted a new challenge?

Because that’s the only reason he’d be toying with her like this. He knew she was off limits and disinterested—she’d faked it well in the past—so was this some kind of warped game to him, to see how far he could push the geeky younger sister of his best friend?

His fingers wound her hair tighter slowly, gentle tugs that had her biting back a groan at the sensuality of it. When his fingertips grazed her scalp, Polly’s knees buckled a little so she reacted how she always did when Ryder disarmed her.

‘Back off, bozo, or I’ll make you.’

He laughed and leaned closer, his breath fanning her cheek and setting off all kinds of reactions, most of them between her legs. She throbbed with wanting him.

‘It could be fun for you to try,’ he murmured in her ear, his lips grazing her skin and sending a delicious shudder through her body.

When his teeth nipped her lobe, she froze. He was actually doing this, seducing her, and she had no idea how to react. It had to be a game to him. He’d never shown the slightest sign of wanting to get physical with her before.

‘So what’s it to be, Pol? Want to take me down?’

He blew on her ear and this time she couldn’t prevent a low moan escaping her lips. She didn’t want to take him down. She wanted to go down on him, and have him return the favour.

But this was crazy. Until she figured out what game he was playing, she had to put a stop to this teasing.

‘You’re full of it,’ she said, stepping back. She couldn’t think, let alone formulate coherent sentences, when he was that close and he knew it.

How many times had she pushed him away over the years? Too many to count. Toying with her amused him; he liked to see how much he could rattle her. By her predictable reaction, the answer was a lot.

But this heightened awareness was new. He exuded a sexual magnetism that drew many women to him, according to the online tabloids, and it irked that it worked on her too. She shouldn’t be this attracted to him. Her crush should’ve waned. If anything, the way her skin tingled and heat flushed her from the inside out, her lust for him had only intensified.

Not good. She needed a distraction, fast.

‘Archie says you’re here to plan his thirtieth.’ She strolled to the corner where her brother had stacked his DIY paraphernalia, putting some much-needed distance between them.

‘Want to help me? It’s been a long time since I’ve hung out with Arch and you’d know what he’s into these days better than me.’

That was all she needed—to spend one-on-one time with him. Especially after the weird flirty thing he’d been doing a few moments ago that still had her body buzzing.

She should ask him about it. Her ear lobe still tingled from his teeth nipping it in the briefest of bites. But did she really want to have a discussion that could end in her revealing how much she’d like him to nip her all over?

‘Can’t, I’m too busy with my new job.’ She snagged a few sheets of sandpaper, needing to keep busy if Ryder insisted on waiting for Archie’s return. ‘But I’m sure you’ll be the hostess with the mostest.’

His chuckles at her sarcasm warmed her blood, making her slightly giddy. ‘Let me guess. Your new job involves calculating the probability of Australia winning the next World Cup. Or you’re wowing the Prime Minister with enough statistics to promote you to his deputy? Or—?’

‘I’m working for Sizzle,’ she blurted out, hating how he never failed to make her feel like the nerd she was.

Growing up, he’d teased her about always having her nose in a book or getting straight As. While he’d been kicking a football in the backyard with Archie after school, she’d have her homework spread out on the kitchen table, trying to concentrate while sneaking glances at the way his jersey moulded to his chest. When he came into the kitchen for a drink she’d feign indifference, trying to ignore how good he made her feel when he asked insightful questions about her homework.

She’d known he was smart back then and had wondered why he’d hidden it, pretending to act the fool and goof around with Archie who’d never had aspirations beyond getting through his final year at school and scoring a building apprenticeship.

She’d attended the local high school with Archie while Ryder had gone to an elite private school several suburbs away, but he’d never lorded it over them and he’d underplayed his intelligence.

‘Sizzle?’ His eyebrows rose to a satisfying height. ‘The fashion house?’

‘The one and only.’ Smug that she’d managed to surprise him for once, she folded her arms, only to lower them to her sides when his gaze zeroed in on her chest. That was new too, his awareness of her as a woman. She’d secretly wished he would notice her over the years but he’d never hinted at anything untoward. Even his teasing had been annoyingly platonic. Then again, considering his choice of girlfriends over the last few years, she’d never measure up in the glam stakes. ‘Maybe you should drop by some time and update your wardrobe?’

She’d meant it as a funny jibe—he’d always looked good in whatever he wore, even as a kid—her dry humour a defence mechanism. She’d always needled him when she’d felt disconcerted, but she realised it had backfired when a spark of interest lit his eyes.

‘Is that an invitation?’

‘No, it was me trying to be snide.’ She glanced at the dark denim moulding long, lean legs and the navy polo shirt hugging his muscular chest, then wished she hadn’t when the heat in her cheeks intensified. ‘We both know your outfit cost more than my monthly wage so you definitely don’t need a wardrobe update.’

He tilted his head, studying her, the gleam in his eyes speculative. ‘In my profession, it pays to keep abreast of the latest fashion.’

‘What profession’s that? Winning women and influencing friends?’

He tsk-tsked. ‘Mixing metaphors and being snide? Not your style, Pollyanna.’

Polly huffed out a breath, annoyed she’d let him get to her yet again, and desperate for him to leave her alone. Physically, she’d always found him attractive but when he sparred with her, she wanted him even more. ‘Archie should be back soon if you want to wait in the kitchen.’

‘When I’m having so much fun here?’ He shook his head and grinned. ‘I’d rather see you climb that ladder so I can ogle your legs.’

Discombobulated by his sudden interest in her attributes—first having a quick perv at her boobs and now mentioning her legs—Polly muttered, ‘Yeah, a regular supermodel, that’s me,’ as she tried to brush past him on her way to the guest room.

But his hand shot out and gripped her upper arm, making it impossible to move. ‘Why do you do that?’

Her skin prickled where he touched her, every nerve ending on hyper alert, yearning for his touch all over.

‘Do what?’

‘Undersell yourself.’

His pupils dilated, almost obliterating all that beautiful hazel, and she glanced away.

He didn’t stop staring at her but she didn’t dare meet his gaze for fear of seeing what she’d glimpsed a moment ago.

Desire.

She must have imagined it. A result of years of pent-up sexual frustration, him touching her arm, and wishful thinking.

Because if she couldn’t handle Ryder teasing her, no way could she handle him wanting her.

Guys like him didn’t want girls like her.

Beauty and the Geek. And she sure as hell wasn’t the beauty.

‘You’re something else, Polly.’

His audible sincerity undermined her almost as much as the use of her name without the usual teasing addendum, and she couldn’t help but look at him.

What she saw blew her away.

Heat.

Pure, unadulterated heat that made her want to lean into him, stand on her tiptoes, and devour him.

‘You always have been,’ he added, so softly she barely heard, as his hungry gaze focussed on her lips.

Polly swore her heart stopped. Her chest felt tight. Her throat closed. Her eyes watered. Since when had their teasing turned sexual?

Something indefinable pulsed between them as he lowered his head. Every muscle in her body locked. She should flee but she was damned if she wanted to. She’d imagined how his lips would feel for so long that she wondered if the reality would surpass the fantasy.

Firm, commanding, a master who’d had more practice than she had. And in that moment, with a palpable electricity arcing between them and her body straining towards his, she knew kissing Ryder would be a dumbass idea.

He could have any woman he wanted. So what the hell was he doing toying with her?

Time to flee before she blubbered as well as pashed him.

‘Still a charmer.’ She patted his cheek for a moment, savouring the illicit thrill of stubble scraping her palm, before easing away. ‘Nice to know some things never change.’

She slipped out of his grasp, grateful when he let her go.

She only just caught his murmured, ‘I’ve changed,’ before she fled.

Copyright © 2020 by Nicola Marsh