Beauty and the Brit by Poppy St. James

CAMRYN

It’s Friday afternoon, and I’m at the office.

Being the good (nosy) friend she is, Anna has already sufficiently grilled me about my dinner out with Sterling this past weekend, and of course, our evening out last night. I downplayed the strange sexual tension that crackled between us.

The intimacy of the restaurant. The way his gaze stayed glued to mine. His low voice.

A shudder zips through me at the memory.

And then last night, the way he only had eyes for me, despite the roomful of gorgeous women clamoring for his attention.

There’s just something magnetic about him. Of course he’s attractive, but it’s so much more than that. His confidence. His candor. It’s all so intriguing.

If we were both single, I could see myself falling fast for him.

Well, we are both single, but it’s more complicated than that. He’s trying to get married, and I’ve sworn off men.

We discussed him swinging by the office today if he got a break in his work day. I’m sure we covered everything last night, but just in case there was anything we forgot, he insisted. It was cute, really.

But now that he’s almost due to arrive, my heart is in a frenzy, and I swear I’ve typed and deleted the same sentence three times. Slamming my fingers against the keyboard, I manage to finish the e-mail without typos and finally click SEND.

“You okay?” Anna asks.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, I nod. With the last-minute arrangement to bring on an assistant, I’ve spent a good part of the week getting Anna up to speed on all of my current projects, which means I’ve fallen behind big-time on answering e-mails and voice mails. But Anna’s a quick study, and is already off and running on creating a mock-up social-media campaign for a client that I’ll review tomorrow.

We’re sharing an office space, which is fine by me. I have a desk in the center of the room facing the door, and Anna is seated at the L-shaped desk in the corner, typing away.

I refuse to glance up and check the clock yet again, but when I hear a British accent, all bets are off and my gaze flies to the door.

Sterling’s in the hall, talking to Noah and Olivia. Today he’s dressed in a tailored navy-blue suit with a crisp white shirt and pale pink tie. My lips tilt upwards. Only a confident man wears pink.

A warm shiver passes through my body. Dear God, he’s attractive. He’s shaking hands with Noah and laughing about something.

I rise to my feet and wander out to join them. As I approach, Sterling turns to Olivia and gestures to her belly.

“May I?”

She shrugs. “Most people don’t even ask. Go ahead.”

He places one large palm against her belly and grins at her, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Wow. This is incredible.” Pulling his hand away, he shakes Noah’s hand again. “Good job, mate. Makes me want to get someone pregnant.”

He chuckles, and I see several of the office girls smile in his direction while my ovaries do a dance of joy.

Get in line, ladies.

I approach and stop beside Olivia. “Hi, guys.”

Sterling’s gaze pulls over to mine like we’re two sides of a magnet. “Cami,” he says, his voice low.

Cami?No one calls me Cami, but I don’t correct him. Some small part of me likes that he’s bestowed me with a nickname.

“Are you ready to go over the plan?” I ask.

Noah and Olivia are watching us wide-eyed, and while I’m trying to figure out what’s up with their weird vibes, Sterling nods and says cheerio to Noah and Olivia before following me into my office.

The space seems smaller with his masculine presence looming, and I inch my way around my desk.

Anna turns and her focus lands on Sterling, her gaze drifting up his six-foot-plus form. Her mouth opens and she just kind of stares blankly.

“Anna, this is Sterling Quinn. Our new client,” I say pointedly.

This snaps her from her likely erotic daydream, and she manages to say a shaky hi.

“’Ello, love,” Sterling says brightly.

“Go ahead and have a seat.” I indicate the floral-print accent chair in front of my desk.

Sterling obeys, and I sit across from him. The desk between us feels like a necessary barrier. Keep your cool, Camyrn.

“I made some progress on our plan this morning, contacting a few local hotels to obtain quotes on renting ballroom space for our recruiting event. I think we’ll have a good turnout, and we’ll need the space.”

He nods along, his eyes still on mine.

“I’m aiming to hold the event about four weeks from now. Make sure your calendar is free.”

“Of course,” he says smoothly.

“As soon as we have a firm date and the location nailed down, I’ll begin placing ads on the local dating sites to solicit candidates. After I screen them for the obvious stuff, like making sure they don’t have any felonies, or an ex-husband they tried to mutilate, you can have a look at the prospects and let me know if any of them suit you.”

He nods again. “Very thorough, Miss Palmer. I’m impressed. You’ve thought of everything.”

“Well, not everything.” I realize we never discussed specifics. Last night, we merely covered big-picture things. “I need to know the shape and size of the woman you desire. Age. Hair color. Chest size. Shaved bald or landing strip? Give me your preferences.”

“Pardon?” He scoffs with a bewildered look.

“And try to be as specific as possible.” I grab my notepad and pen, poised and ready.

He leans back in his seat and appraises me, his gaze sinking slowly from my loose chignon bun to the peep-toe pumps resting under my desk.

I fight off a shiver. Good golly, it’s been way too long since I’ve had any male attention. A few sultry looks from an attractive man and I’m practically overheating.

“Hmm. Let’s see.” He leans closer, his eyes still appraising me as he rubs his chin. “Five six.” He stops and looks down at my heels again. “No, five three, about 145 pounds. Twenty . . . six? With dark blond hair. Shoulder length. And green eyes.”

Sterling just described me down to the smallest detail, and I’m not amused. He promised to take this seriously.

“Are you trying to be funny?”

“Not at all. Why?” He shifts closer still, and I catch a sniff of his mouth-watering cologne.

“I’m not an idiot, Sterling. You don’t need to stroke my ego, or butter me up. I’m in this until the end. When I take on a project, I always see it through. No matter what.”

His confused look tells me his compliment had nothing to do with kissing up. Which means now I’m the one who’s confused.

Sighing, I inhale deeply. “Okay, let’s try this again. Your preferences.”

He leans over one side of my desk, fiddling with my unicorn mug that serves as a pencil holder. “Size doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, come on.” I roll my eyes and snatch the mug from his hands. “That’s just a lie women tell men; you don’t need to perpetuate it. Trust me; size matters.”

“Fine, does this help? I’d much prefer a Kim Kardashian body type than a Kate Moss.”

Okay, so he likes curves. “Yes, it does, actually.”

My round, size-eight butt and full breasts usually feel like too much, but with that one statement, my constant the diet starts Monday mentality suddenly seems insignificant. I set down the mug on the far end of my desk and jot down a note, then press on.

“Okay. Race, religion, politics . . . anything important I should know? Any particular quirks, such as a foot fetish or a breast man, things like that I need to be aware of?”

“Not really,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m fairly open minded.”

“Well then, I think I have enough to work with for now. I can begin assembling some candidates for you to consider.”

Sterling rises from the chair and stalks straight toward me. “One more thing, love.” His voice is low, and the sultry sound goes straight to my head. I feel dizzy. Hot all over. Sterling checks his wristwatch, a platinum-and-gold number that looks expensive. “Are you free Wednesday night, by chance?”

“For?” I thought we were through here.

“To hang out.” He shrugs.

Hang out?I doubt that’s a good idea. “Oh, I, um. I need to check my schedule.”

He rises to his feet, then nods. “Brilliant. Ring me and let me know.”

I’m in a daze, but I find myself rising and nodding back at him. “Have a good evening.”

“Good-bye, Anna,” Sterling says on his way out the door.

I’d totally forgotten about Anna.

“Ho. Ly. Shit!” Anna blurts the second he’s gone. “That was freaking intense!”

I want to blow her off, to downplay what just happened. Instead, I lean against the side of my desk and pull deep breaths into my lungs.

“Seriously? That was crazy. I need a cigarette right now,” Anna says, smiling at me. “And I don’t even smoke!”

“Don’t read more into this than is there. He’s charming and was just trying to be funny. That’s all.”

I fall back into my chair and try to focus on my laptop screen. But it might as well be written in Mandarin for all I can decipher. Sterling has left me completely and utterly flustered.

“He wants to hang out?” Anna giggles. “Is that a euphemism for something sexy where he’s from?”

“Of course not; don’t be silly.” But hell, part of me wants to google it just to be sure. “Let’s just get back to work.”

Anna sighs, but heads back to her desk.

I can’t help but wonder about his past. How many lovers has he had? I don’t know his dating history, and when I asked if he’s ever had a real relationship, he didn’t give me a full answer.

As my curiosity grows, I try to convince myself I’m only interested in the details because of my role.

Who am I kidding?

Definitely not Anna. And not myself.

Jealousy bubbles up inside me, and I want to know who he’s dated, who he’s slept with. Closing my eyes for a second, I scold myself silently, because I have no right to be jealous.

“So, are you going to do it?” Anna asks, interrupting my sour thoughts.

“Do what?”

“Hang out with him?”

Chewing on my lip, I consider it. “I don’t know. I might . . .”

“Then you should totally do it.” Anna nods.

I can see where her loyalties lie. First, I need some answers.

I grab my cell and dial Sterling’s number.

“Hey, Camryn. Did I forget something at your office?” he asks.

“No, I just . . . I had some questions for you.”

“Of course. What’s on your mind?”

“Well, when you said hang out, what did you mean?”

Anna’s hand flies over her mouth and her eyes widen.

No sense in beating around the bush.

I can almost hear the smile in Sterling’s voice when he replies. “What do you want it to mean?”

Straightening my shoulders, I sit up taller in my chair. “Oh no, you don’t, mister. Before I agree to spend time with you, there are a few things I need to know.”

“Go for it.”

“How many women have you slept with?”

“Pardon?” Sterling coughs.

Anna is on her feet, making slashing motions across her throat with her hand.

“Your number. What is it?” My tone is calm, controlled. I’m actually enjoying this.

“Is that information you need as my publicist, or as the woman I’ve asked to hang out?”

“Just answer the question, Sterling. Or can you not count that high?”

He lets out a sigh, so brief I can barely hear it. For a second, I’m sure he’s going to dodge the question.

“Enough to know what I’m doing. Not enough to make me a total wanker.”

I laugh, despite myself. It’s actually a good response.

“Let me make this clear for you. I like you, Camryn. We’re both adults, and there’s no reason why we can’t hang out and enjoy each other’s company without it turning weird.”

What the hell does that mean? I’m more confused now than before. Maybe this is his last hurrah before becoming a married man.

“I’m not quite sure what to say.”

“We have fun together. Let’s keep it casual and fun; we both deserve that.”

The man has a point.

“But you’re about to be married,” I say.

“Not tomorrow. Not the next day.”

“But soon.”

He exhales. “Yes, and that’s kind of stressing me out, so I could use a little downtime with someone who gets me.”

I swallow.

“Say yes,” he murmurs.

“Sterling . . .”

“I would never hurt you,” he adds softly.

“Fine, but I’m not having sex with you.”

Anna is now lying on the floor of my office, her face scrunched up in agony, her head in her hands.

“I know that,” he says.

A girly bubble of laughter escapes my lips, and I clamp a hand over my mouth. I want to bitch-slap myself for that outburst. But Sterling only seems amused.

“Seriously, don’t worry. Don’t overthink this. Everything will be fine,” he says. “I promise.”

I straighten my shoulders. “Okay then. Wednesday. Where should I meet you?”

Anna breaks out into a huge grin.

“My flat. At seven.”

Sterling’s sexy deep voice sends a tingle down my spine. My cheeks are bright red when I hang up the phone.

His flat. It’s cute that he calls his apartment a flat. How very British of him.

Anna lets out a small squeal as she jumps up.

I hold up my hand. “Not one word.”

“Poop stick,” she says and sticks out her tongue, but goes back to her desk.

I spend the rest of the work day trying to make peace with his explanation, to talk myself into this non-date. I weigh the pros and cons, push the women of his past (and future) out of my mind. It doesn’t really work and I spend the rest of my time at the office distracted and on edge.

I say good night to Anna and pack up my things. The entire way home, I argue with myself. Part of me wants to just go with it. The other part of me knows this is a recipe for disaster.

My e-mail is full with the first round of applicants, and I know I’ll be spending the evening with a big glass of wine and a bunch of women who could be Sterling’s future wife.

I’m just going to have to tell Sterling. Our hanging out is stupid. Not when there’s so much on the line.

I take a deep breath and remember that he promised it was casual fun, nothing more.

Don’t make a big deal out of this.

But it feels impossible not to.