Beauty and the Brit by Poppy St. James
CAMRYN
I’m not normally one to succumb to peer pressure, but in this instance, I crumbled faster than a cookie at snack time. When Anna and Olivia asked me last night about lining up a date for Sterling, at first I scoffed at the idea, but the stack of printouts on my desk have been calling my name.
I leaf through the pile again. Smiling faces of hopeful women stare back at me, each with the secret desire to become Mrs. Sterling Quinn. I want to shove these into the back of a drawer, or better yet, the recycle bin, but instead I select one at random from the pile.
Meredith Aimes.
She’s got long dark hair that hangs in a sleek curtain down her back, and a regal, classy look. She’s beauty-queen pretty. Glancing over her profile, I discover she’s a former competitive swimmer, currently a teacher at a special-education school, and volunteers in her free time at an animal shelter. Basically, she’s incredible.
Nope. That’s a hard pass. I set her profile aside. I might be willing to set him up, but not with someone who’s freaking perfect.
I grab another three sheets from the stack and reject all three. A sweet nanny who loves watching football. A chef with a passion for public service. A gymnast who visits her sick grandma every Sunday after church.
Lifting another, I swallow a curse. A brown-eyed temptress with tits out to there. Wow! Those things are magnificent. They put my B-cups to shame. Sterling doesn’t need to see these. Fat chance of that happening when I shove her photo straight into the garbage.
Geez.What is up with all these Miss Perfects?
Annoyed, I grab one more.
Bianca Tetherdine. Blond. Perky. A college student, barely twenty-one.
I roll my eyes. Fine.
This will work. She’s cute, so he won’t suspect anything. It’s not like I can send him off with someone ugly. But I also doubt they’ll have anything in common, which makes her the perfect candidate.
I text Sterling to ask if he’s free this weekend, and once he confirms he is, I get everything all set up. Bianca’s free to meet for a drink tomorrow night. I confirm the time and place with her, then text Sterling again.
I’ve set you up on a date tomorrow. You’re meeting Bianca at eight at Lucky’s Tavern.
I expect a text back. Part of me wants to hear him complain about the idea, so I can pat myself on the back for this little experiment, feeling content that he’d prefer to spend his time with me.
But when a text doesn’t arrive, I fear perhaps this is what he’s been waiting for all along. This is my job, what I’m supposed to be doing.
Sterling obviously realizes that, and it’s time I did too. Anna was right all along.
With a heavy heart, I get back to work, intent on pushing all this Sterling business from my brain.
Hours later, I’m lost in work when a shriek from the office next door steals my attention.
“What was that?” I ask Anna.
“Not a clue. Come on.”
I push out of my chair and follow her. Normally, I’m not one for office gossip, but I could use a little distraction from my lackluster day.
Next door to our shared office is an open space containing six desks for a team of graphic designers. While they lack individual offices, the space is bright and open, and is often used as a communal gathering space for those hoping to catch the latest office gossip.
“What’s going on?” Anna asks as we stroll up.
Stopping near the workstation where they’re all gathered, I see a picture of Sterling on the computer screen. It appears to be a tabloid article. My stomach turns uneasy.
“Just the latest on the gossip site’s latest obsession—Sterling Quinn. He’s rumored to be involved in a secret affair, which could jeopardize the whole marriage/inheritance thing.”
“W-what do you mean?” Anna asks on my behalf, since I’ve suddenly found myself speechless.
Leaning against the side of the desk, I force my gaze from the screen and down to a designer, who’s apparently got all the inside scoop.
“Spill it, Rocky,” I say.
And he does.
“There’re pictures with him and some woman kissing in a corridor.”
He scrolls down the web page, and I see it in all its glory. Sterling’s muscular form wrapped around some tall redhead, their mouths fused together.
Something inside my chest aches, and I feel light-headed. I blink, but the image remains.
I push off the desk and stalk away, utterly disgusted.
Not only could this jeopardize our working relationship, and the money on the line, but more than that, I trusted him, believed in him, thought we’d made a special connection. Maybe as friends; maybe as more. And now this? It feels like a betrayal.
Anna follows me back to our office. “Are you okay?” she asks softly, closing the door behind us.
Nausea rolls through me as I drop into my office chair. “A woman came forward saying she spent the night with him recently. How do you think I’m doing?”
Anna sighs softly, lowering herself into the chair across from me. “Maybe it’s for the best. I mean, this whole project was crazy. Very nineteenth century, the idea of an arranged marriage. And then with things getting complicated between the two of you? This was a recipe for disaster from the onset. You see that, don’t you?”
My throat is tight, but I make myself nod my head.
I never imagined Sterling and I would have a connection like that. Of course, I think he’s attractive; even a blind person could see that. I figured that maybe there would be some mild innuendo thrown around, some flirting, but I never accounted for the deeper attraction that sizzles below the surface between us. Our chemistry is dangerous.
All the more reason to set him up for a date this weekend. It’s time to move on, and sticking with the original plan has never sounded better. Get Sterling successfully married off, and then collect my bonus.
“I’m just upset that he lied to me,” I grumble.
“Amen, sister,” Anna says, nodding.
“But I’ll be fine. I always am,” I say to myself more than her. Maybe if I keep repeating that mantra, it will be true.
Trying to immerse myself in work, I begin reviewing the campaign that Anna spent much of this week working on. She’s really been a godsend. She’s helped with my workload since she started last week, and every day promptly at two, she runs down to the coffee shop downstairs and returns with two iced lattes. I think that’s easily my favorite part.
“I think we deserve a special treat today,” Anna announces, rising from her desk at ten to two.
“Agreed.” Today has been stupid. “What are you thinking?”
She lifts her purse from the back of her chair and winks at me. “It’s a surprise. Be back in ten.”
I chuckle to myself and watch her go.
I’m typing away, lost in my work, when just a few minutes later, I hear footsteps outside my office door. For a second, I think it’s Anna, that maybe she forgot her wallet. But that’s not right, because I saw her grab her purse. When I look up, my breath catches.
It’s Sterling.
What is he doing here?He’s breathing hard, like he jogged here.
Dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a crisp white button-down shirt with a gray tweed overcoat, he’s so deliciously British, my chest aches. His hair is pushed up in the front, and he’s sporting a five o’clock shadow. He looks devastatingly handsome, and that simple fact pisses me off.
I can’t let my body react to his. Focus, Camryn.
I continue typing out the summary I was working on, trying not to let his masculine, spicy cologne totally derail me.
“Did you need something?”
He slides into the guest chair in front of my desk. “Are you okay?” His tone is unusually hollow.
Distracted, I abandon my e-mail for good and fold my hands in front of me. “Just dandy. Why do you ask?”
He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and he leans forward, gripping the edge of my desk. “Because my name is being splashed all over the tabloids saying I’ve been carrying on with another woman, and then I get a text from you saying you’ve set me up on a date.”
I tilt my head to the side, relieving some of the pressure building at the base of my neck. I can feel a massive headache coming on. So he did receive my text, but rather than responding to it like a normal human, he decided to confront me in person. Fabulous.
“I’m just trying to do my job, Sterling. And now I have a media circus to clean up on top of it, thanks to your . . . indiscretions.”
“For heaven’s sake, Camryn, that’s what I came here to tell you. That story is fabricated.”
I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “They have pictures of you with her!” My voice comes out sounding wild, hurt. I hate it.
Sterling rises to his feet and closes the door to my office, apparently not wanting anyone to overhear our conversation. Even if I am angry at him, I appreciate the gesture. I don’t need my office neighbors to hear me go off the rails, to know how emotionally invested I’ve become in my job.
Taking a deep breath, I try to rein in my reaction to him showing up here.
Sterling comes around the side of my desk, leaning down to face me so we’re eye to eye. My mouth goes dry the second his deep blue eyes latch onto mine.
“Will you please just listen to me,” he pleads. “I haven’t lied to you yet, and if you understood the first thing about me, it’s that I never will.”
“Sterling…”
“Never,” he repeats, solemnly.
“I’m all ears. I’d love to hear you explain when you had the time to go out with that woman between taking me out on Saturday night, and then spending Wednesday evening with you too. Quite a voracious appetite you have. I underestimated you.”
“The story is bullshit. Those pictures are of me and my ex from months ago.”
I pause, staring at him, trying to understand how I can possibly trust him again. I’m way more involved that I should be, in way over my head. The smart thing to do would be to cut my losses and move on.
“Look at the picture, Camryn.” He grabs a folded-up printout of the story from his back pocket and stabs at it with his finger. “We’re dressed in T-shirts. Do you really think that’s recent?”
Oh. He’s right. I’m a PR executive, and if I’ve learned one thing working in this field, it’s not to believe the tabloids. The way the media can spin those stories, you’re often left with only the tiniest kernel of truth. It’s fall in New York. Definitely not T-shirt weather.
I take a deep breath and shake my head. “Is that your ex?”
“Rebecca, yeah.”
The attorney at his firm that he’d told me about. In fact, he’d been very forthcoming about his past with her.
But the mental image of them kissing is singed into my brain. I wish it wasn’t. Shrugging my shoulders, I try to shake it off, but it’s no use. When did this get so complicated?
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Are you okay?”
I nod, fighting with myself to let it go. “It’ll be fine.”
“I really have to do this, don’t I?” he asks with a smirk.
“Marry? Only if you want to.”
The tick in his jaw tells me the idea is a foreign one. He leaves the perch at the side of my desk and returns to the seat across from me.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“I wanted to check in on you. Wanted to come in person. I needed to see your eyes, make sure you believed me.”
“I do believe you. None of that changes the fact that you still need to go on this date.”
He combs his long fingers through the front of his hair. “Right.”
I release a heavy sigh. There’s no escaping the reality of our situation. We each have a role to play, a job to do.
I give him a small smile, but it feels foreign. “She’s a nice girl. Go and have fun.”
He makes a noise of frustration and rises to his feet. “I’ll go, under one condition.”
“Name it.” I rise to stand before him. Even though I’m wearing heels, he still towers over me.
“After the date, you meet up with me—”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say, interrupting him.
“To debrief and discuss how it went,” he continues.
Chewing on my lip, I debate the merit of his suggestion. It’s actually a pretty decent idea. Either that, or I’ve gone mad. “Fine. Call me after.”
He kisses the back of my hand and disappears.
Anna returns moments later carrying a chocolate cupcake with a mountain of whipped frosting, but I’ve found my stomach is in knots and my appetite is gone.