Beauty and the Brit by Poppy St. James

CAMRYN

Tonight has been more than I could have ever imagined. Anyone looking at my life from the outside may think I have it all. A great career? Check. A small, but close-knit group of girlfriends? Check.

But my reality is much different. I crave a true connection, a partner in life, someone who gets me and accepts me for who I am. My ex was none of those, and I fooled myself into believing I was having fun—living it up in my twenties with a fling. But deep inside, I yearned for more.

And tonight, Sterling has unknowingly opened a huge gaping wound inside me. He’s made me feel special, planned something just for me. Showed me what it was like to spend an evening with a man interested in conversation just for the sake of getting to know me. I fear I’ll never be the same.

I haven’t dated, haven’t been out with anyone since David, and honestly, I’ve all but given up hope that good men actually exist. But if men like Sterling Quinn really do exist, then maybe the hunt for my lobster isn’t totally in vain. I still can’t believe I told him that. But he was so gracious and sweet about it, so I don’t regret it.

We’ve finished dinner and dessert, and now we’re lounging on the pillows outside, drinking a second glass of wine. My heart feels so full and conflicted, I’ve grown quiet in the past few minutes.

“You asked about my past.” Sterling looks out on the passing traffic below as he says this.

I’ve barely noticed the quiet hum and occasional car horn in the background, as we’ve been deep in conversation much of the night. Studying his profile, his square jawline peppered with dark stubble, his strong, straight nose and full lips, it takes me a moment to realize he’s waiting for me to respond.

“I was curious, yes.”

“I had a girlfriend last year. An attorney where I work. It was convenient.”

That pang of jealousy I felt earlier when I wondered about his past flares up again. “I see. And how long did you date her?”

“About eight months.”

Longer than I would have guessed.“That sounds serious.”

“Honestly? It wasn’t serious; not in the way you’re thinking, at least. There were no I-love-yous exchanged,” he adds.

“And she’s out of your life completely?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I still see her at the office occasionally, but we work on different floors. She still calls once in a while, but I’ve moved on.”

It seems like it would be the easier choice to marry someone he was comfortable with and has history with over some stranger, but I’m not going to be the one to point that out to him. He must have his reasons.

“And what about you? You were dating someone last year too. David, wasn’t it?”

I nod, surprised that Sterling even noticed. Maybe he silently kept tabs on me like I did on him.

“We broke up about six months ago. He took off.” With my heart, my wallet, and my good credit score.

“And there’s been no one since then?” Sterling asks.

I shake my head. “I haven’t had the slightest interest in dating.” Until you.

“Same here,” he says.

“But now you have to get married.”

“Seems that way.” He rubs the back of his neck again, which I’m coming to recognize as something he does when he’s anxious.

“Why are you doing this, really? You’re a successful attorney. I’m sure you make a comfortable living.”

He lets out a deep sigh, but doesn’t respond. After a beat of silence between us, his eyes lift to mine. “Come inside with me.”

We move inside, carrying the stacks of dishes and our wineglasses. We set the dishes in the kitchen and take our glasses to the couch.

His living room is masculine, yet inviting. A navy sofa in tweed fabric sits facing the large windows, and a leather armchair and small table made of steel round out the other side of the room. His coffee table is a large rustic crate that’s been overturned.

We’re sitting side by side on the couch when Sterling takes my wineglass from my hand and sets it on the table next to his.

He’s quiet, contemplative, and I wonder what he’s thinking about.

I realize it in that moment—we’re all struggling to find something true. True affection. True intimacy. True love. A shot at something real in this life. And Sterling and I share that desire. He might deny it, might say that he’s jaded on the idea of marriage and that he’s doing this for the money, but I can see it when I look into his eyes, can feel it when he smiles at me. He wants something true as badly as I do. He needs it, maybe even more than I do.

“I know this probably seems strange to you, me going through with this cocked-up plan to marry.”

I swallow and shake my head. I won’t judge him; there’s a lot of freaking money on the line.

“But you have to trust me that I have my reasons. It’s not all about the money. Well, it sort of is.” He rubs the back of his neck again. “I just need this to work.”

I take his hand. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I told you I’ll help, and I meant it.” A giggle forces its way up my throat. “Just consider tonight me testing your ability to woo a woman.”

His smile is amused. “And did I woo you, Miss Palmer?” He’s still holding my hand, and when he strokes the back of it with his thumb, tingles of awareness spiral through me.

I’m practically dizzy with the electricity that’s been humming between us all evening. He’s intoxicatingly attractive, and the lines between professionalism and pleasure have become irrevocably blurred. There should be miles between friendship and attraction, but with Sterling this close, with his subtle, spicy cologne and his deep blue eyes gazing into mine, everything is fuzzy.

“You get an A-plus in the wooing department, Mr. Quinn,” I whisper as Sterling draws near.

“We should probably test out how I kiss. You know, for research purposes,” he murmurs.

A warm shudder passes through me. Dear God, could he get any sexier?

His hands are on my jaw, and he tilts my mouth up to meet his. In that split second, I know I could pull away if I wanted to, but I don’t. My eyes drift closed just as his warm, full lips press softly against mine. When he sucks lightly on my bottom lip, I open to him. Then, so slowly it makes me ache, he brushes his tongue against mine.

Wow.

The.

Man.

Can.

Kiss.

In fact, every kiss I’ve had since my first in eighth grade pales in comparison.

Tender. Sensual. Soft. Urgent. His kiss is all of those things at once. And more.

He holds my jaw with one hand while the other trails down the front of my deep V-neck sweater. Careful to avoid my breasts, which ache for his touch, he lightly trails his fingertips along the line of exposed cleavage, leaving warmth tingling in his wake. My entire body silently pleads for more.

When he pulls away, he does so only a few inches, and rests his forehead against mine. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

Everything inside me clenches. Even the way this man curses is hot.

Pulling back a fraction more, Sterling focuses his eyes on mine. His are dark, glazed over with hot lust, and it makes me want him even more, knowing I affect him as much as he does me.

With a tiny groan at the back of his throat, he pulls back to study me. Swiping his thumb across my lower lip, he releases a pained exhale. He doesn’t ask how the kiss was, or tease me to see if he passed the test. We both know that kiss was utterly perfect. Intense. It was the real thing. So real, it’s a little scary. Some people just click—their chemistry or pheromones or something. I know I could easily fall for him, and given the direction his life’s headed, I can’t let that happen.

“We should stop before we do something we can’t take back,” he says.

I rise from the couch while Sterling does the same.

He clears his throat and leads me toward the door.

We stand there, our breathing ragged as though we’ve just run an Olympic race, not quite ready to say good night.

Feeling brazen, this time I’m the one lifting up on my toes to press my lips against his. It’s meant to be a chaste goodnight kiss, but it quickly spirals out of control.

Ripping my mouth from his, I suck in a deep breath. I feel as though I’ve been underwater, deprived of oxygen for too long. My heart is hammering, and I’m dizzy and flushed.

“I’d better go.” My voice comes out so soft, and I realize it’s because I haven’t spoken a single word since that kiss that tipped my world upside down.

He opens the door for me and leans against the frame while I slip my purse over one shoulder. “Thank you for coming over.”

“I had fun,” I whisper, my lips damp and swollen from his onslaught of hungry kisses.

“We should hang out again.” He smiles.

I nod, unsure how in the world I’ll be able to hang out with him again without things between us turning heated.

His expression changes, and I see something dark pass through his gaze. “Are you sure about this?”

I shrug. “Someone’s going to have to keep an eye this game show we call your life.”

He chuckles and gives me a brief hug before releasing me. “Night, Camryn,” he murmurs.

When I make it downstairs, the friendly doorman has a cab waiting for me.

“Good evening, miss,” he calls as I slip inside.

Miss.

The word only serves to remind me that some other girl is soon going to be Mrs. Sterling Quinn. The thought is sobering.