Unexpected Lovers Box Set by J.B. Heller
Hannahand I continue to see each other for the next few weeks whenever we can. Between my work at English Enterprises and Hannah’s busy schedule at The Aquarium, it’s hard to make time for each other, but we do.
It’s mostly been breakfasts since we’re both early risers who work long hours. We’ve squeezed in a couple more lunch dates in the back room at The Aquarium, as well. Then, Hannah came to surprise me at the office between meetings two days ago, wearing a fitted trench coat—and nothing else. . .
Tonight, we’re finally having that dinner we tried for weeks ago. I’m waiting out in front of Alejandro’s for her to arrive when none other than Camille strides past with her next potential husband. Poor sucker.
Upon noticing me, she pauses. “Samuel, what a pleasant surprise. This is Marco Valentine. You’ve heard of Valentine Construction, yes?”
I roll my eyes. I’ve known Marco for years; we went to college together. I tip my chin in his direction, ignoring the viper at his side. “Careful with this one. She’ll go to extraordinary lengths to lock you down.”
“How dare you!” Camille screeches at the same time Marco takes a step away from her.
He eyes her before his gaze shifts to me. “Something I should know, brother?”
“Don’t listen to him, Marco. He’s just bitter because I ended things with him,” Camille sneers.
An unladylike snort comes from behind her, and she spins to glare at the eavesdropper.
Hannah steps around her and over to my side, pushing onto her toes to press a kiss to my cheek. “Sorry I’m late, sexy pants. Traffic was a bitch.”
My hand slides around her waist as I tug her closer and drop a kiss atop her head. “No problem, sweet cheeks.”
Marco smirks, and Camille’s jaw drops. “Who is she?” Camille demands.
I open my mouth to tell her to mind her business, but Hannah presses a hand to my chest, silencing me.
A sweet smile lights her face, and she steps forward, extending a hand to Camille. “I’m Hannah, the woman who doesn’t have to fake a pregnancy to secure future dates with Sammy here.”
Camille’s eyes flare, and she launches for Hannah. I yank Hannah back behind me as Marco goes for Camille, wrapping his hands around her biceps and dragging her away.
He looks over his shoulder to me, eyes wide and questioning.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,”I mouth, and he nods his acknowledgment.
Almost a dozen eyes are on us now. Great, just great. “The spectacle is over. You may carry on with your evenings,” I snap, and the small crowd disperses.
I turn to Hannah, taking in her beautiful face. She makes me feel so many things all at once. I have to grit my teeth to stop myself from saying all the things I know she doesn’t want to hear because this is temporary.
The smile she was wearing fades at my expression. “Sam, wha—"
My fingers glide over her cheeks and into her hair. Keep it light, Sam. “You are all kinds of trouble, woman. What am I going to do with you?”
Nerves zipthrough my body like an electric current. The way Sam is looking at me. . .it’s almost feral.
I lick my lips, and his gaze follows the action. “Umm, I don’t know. Take me inside this fancy-ass restaurant and feed me?”
He shakes his head slowly. The glint in his eyes makes my lady-bits tingle in awareness. What is it with this man and his ability to turn the temperature up with just a look?
“Ah, Sam, are we going to go inside? It’s awful hot out here . . .”
The corner of his mouth hooks in a panty-melting grin. “How did you know she’s the one who faked the pregnancy?”
I shrug. “Lucky guess.”
“And if it wasn’t her? What would you have done?”
I shrug again. “Would it have mattered? The way she was talking down to you was enough to piss me off. Then I heard the little warning you passed on to her date and knew she’d definitely done something to deserve the look of distaste you were casting toward her.”
“I see,” is all he says.
I frown, and he removes his fingers from where they’re buried in my hair to run his thumbs over the lines marring my forehead. “Watching you defend my honor was the biggest turn-on.”
My grin is instant. “Everything turns you on, you horndog.”
“Only when it comes to you. I’m not usually this bad. I swear. I’m sure if you give me a couple more weeks, he’ll calm down.”
Wrapping my hands around his collar, I tug his face to my level. “Now why would I ever want that?” I whisper over his lips then press mine to his.
His hands are back in my hair, tilting my head the way he wants it. I melt into his hard chest, loving every little bit of his attention.
He breaks the kiss, panting against my swollen lips. “I want to take you back to my place and show you just how much I liked that little show. But I promised you food, and I know how you feel about steak. This place has the best steaks in the city. So, I’ll feed you first, then I’ll feast on you.”
His words stoke my already raging libido. “Okay,” I murmur.
His hands drag over my neck, along my collarbone, then slide down my exposed arms to take my hands. “I like this dress,” he says.
I look at my simple black, strapless dress and the shiny, red-bow belt at my waist that matches my killer heels. “Thanks. Now stop complimenting me so we can go eat.”
Sam smiles and shakes his head slightly. “Yes, ma’am.” He drops one of my hands and leads me inside the restaurant by my other.
The moment we step inside, all eyes are on us—or I should say, me. And not in a nice way, either. I swallow and look at my feet when one woman’s remark meets my ears. “Oh, how sweet, English is slumming it with the help this evening. I heard she works at Thomas’s new establishment.”
Sam’s eyes narrow on the woman, and she meets his stare head-on, no shame in her face. She meant what she said and doesn’t care that I heard it.
It takes me a moment to decide how I want to deal with the crude, assessing judgment of the other patrons. I can either feel ashamed of everything I have worked so hard for, or I can straighten my backbone and show them their words mean as much to me as they themselves do.
Inhaling a deep breath, I raise my head high and smile directly at the woman. Then, I smack Sam’s ass and say, “Lead the way, hot stuff. This two-dollar hooker wants a steak.”
Mouths gape and murmurs ensue as Sam chuckles and tugs me to a table in a dark corner, far away from all the prying eyes.
As soon as we’re seated and our drink orders have been placed, Sam looks at me and, yet again, shakes his head. “Trouble,” he mumbles under his breath, a huge shit-eating grin plastered on his handsome face.
“What a lovely bunch of people you seem to know, Sammy. And their manners. . .” I wave a hand in the air. “I had heard the upper crust attend etiquette lessons as children. You can certainly tell.”
“If I didn’t know better, I might think that’s sarcasm I detect in your tone, Miss Archer,” he muses, finger tapping his chin.
I place my hand over my chest, aghast. “Why, Mr. English, you have offended me, sir. A true lady never uses such crude modes of speech.”
He rolls his eyes. “Of course. My sincere apologies.”
I chuckle and relax into my plush chair. The waiter appears with our drinks and requests our meal orders. I look to Sam as we haven’t even opened our menus yet. He winks at me then hands the waiter the unused menus.
“My usual, thank you, Terrance, by two, please. And the crème brûlée for dessert.”
“Very well, sir,” Terrance says with a slight bow of his head, then he’s gone again.
Over our delicious meals, we make small talk about the weather, my work, his work, and our respective upcoming schedules.
“So, I’m not going to be able to see you this week again?” Sam asks.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to get away during the day. Maybe we could do dinner one night?”
He smirks. “Or I could bring you lunch again? I did quite enjoy our lunch date this week.”
“I bet you did!” I chuckle.
Sometime later, our plates are cleared, and the dessert is placed on the table between us. I stare at the delicate dish, and my mouth waters at the sweet caramel scent wafting toward me.
Sam laughs lightly. “I take it you approve of my choices this evening then?”
“Hell yes, I do,” I tell him, smiling brightly. “Everything has been wonderful, except for your taste in company—myself excluded, of course.”
“To be fair, I don’t have control over who else dines here,” he says, digging a dainty silver spoon into the crème brûlée and offering it to me.
I lean forward, and he slides the spoon into my mouth. An embarrassing moan escapes me as the exquisite flavor bursts on my tongue.
The spoon clatters to the table. “And on that note, I think it’s time to get the check,” Sam announces.
“But the . . .” I point at the dessert.
“We’ll get it to go,” he says, raising one hand to signal the waiter while the other discreetly disappears under the table.
Terrance approaches, and Sam tells him, “We’ll get the check now, please, and take the crème brûlée with us.”
I wait till Terrance is out of earshot then ask, “Are you seriously that turned on you can’t wait until we finish?”
He slides his hand over mine on the table. “Baby, if I have to watch you eat the rest of this crème brûlée,”—he gives my mouth a pointed stare—“we’re not going to make it home. Besides, I’d much rather feed it to you while you’re naked.”
