Beauty and the Brit by Poppy St. James

CAMRYN

Ipace my apartment, checking the clock yet again. Sterling and Bianca are an hour into their date, and I’m freaking out.

Get it together, Cam.

In an effort to distract myself, I’ve tried reading, watching TV, and baking, and I abandoned all three. A bowl of messed-up brownie batter containing salt instead of sugar was dumped into the trash, and I’m now sitting at my dining table with the latest stack of bills and collection letters that I’ve been avoiding going through.

Leafing through the pile, I try to figure out how I got myself here. I was always so responsible with my money. Having grown up with very little, I knew enough to be careful with what I had.

David the Dick did not. The first time I learned he charged something to my credit card—a set of speakers—we had a major fight. I couldn’t understand how someone I’d been dating for only a few months could do something like that behind my back. He swore it would never happen again, and that he’d pay the bill. Of course that never happened, and months later I learned he’d not only charged more to my credit card, but he’d charged items to my Amazon account, using my laptop when I wasn’t home. Then he sold all the merchandise and took off with the money. Leaving me in the biggest hole of my life.

My blood pressure rising, I make a tally of all the charges. Just under ten thousand dollars, which will be the exact amount I’ll get when I succeed in this crazy project. I have to.

Needing a distraction from the chaos on my dining table, I head into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of red wine. My cheap five-dollar bottle of wine is my weekly splurge. Well, that and the monthly pedicures I haven’t been able to give up, mostly just for the girl-time it affords me.

My cell phone rings and I grab it from the counter, giddy and light-headed when I see Sterling’s name displayed on the screen. I answer on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“Hello, beautiful.” Sterling’s warm, silky voice washes over me. It’s a relief just to hear the sound of his voice.

Still, I laugh at his attempt to be smooth. “How did it go, Romeo?”

“Quite well, I think.”

He sounds optimistic and cheerful. My stomach twists into a painful knot.

“Where are you?” he asks. “We’re still on to debrief, yes?”

Part of me wants to fake the stomach flu or a bout of chicken pox, anything to avoid having to hear about his date—that obviously went well—in all its gory detail. But of course I won’t. We agreed to this, I remind myself.

“I’m at home.”

“Great. Text me your address and I’ll be right over.”

“Okay. See you soon.” I text him my address and then head to my bedroom to freshen up.

When Sterling arrives fifteen minutes later, I’m ready. I enjoyed my glass of wine while perched on my bathroom counter, touching up my makeup. And now I’m feeling more relaxed and prepared to hear all about his date, or so I tell myself.

He removes his jacket, and I pour him a glass of wine as he surveys my place.

“Great view,” he says, wandering over toward the wall of windows with his wineglass in hand.

I admire the view of him in my living room. His shoulders are so broad, and he doesn’t appear the least bit bothered by my tiny place.

“Thanks. I’ve lived here for three years. It’s cramped, but that view and the fact that I hate moving have kept me here.”

Sterling wanders from the window to the sofa, and sits, patting the seat next to him. There’s a hopeful sort of longing in his eyes, and I brace myself for what’s about to come out of his mouth.

Lowering myself to the cushion next to him, I take another fortifying sip of wine.

“Did you do anything fun tonight?” he asks.

I shake my head. “If you count binge-watching TV fun, then yes. I had a blast.”

He chuckles. “What shows do you like to watch?”

“I’m a teensy bit obsessed with House Hunters International. It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly. Not to me, anyway. Would you like to live abroad someday?”

I shake my head. “Not really, I like living here, but I would love to travel.”

“What’s stopping you?” He lifts a strand of my hair from my shoulder, rubbing the silky ends between his fingers. It’s distracting to watch him.

“Money, for one. Things are kind of tight right now. Someday, though, I’d love to go to Italy.”

“I’ll take you to Italy.”

I laugh. “You can’t just take me to Italy. That’s crazy.”

“Why is that crazy?”

I pull my hair back into a ponytail, and out of his grasp. He needs to stop being so sweet and attentive. Things are already confusing between us.

I wag my finger at him. “You’re changing the subject. Don’t keep me in suspense any longer. I want to hear about your date. Tell me, are my matchmaking skills superb?”

He takes another sip of wine, his eyes never leaving mine as he swallows. “She was . . . nice.”

“Nice?” That’s all he’s going to give me, after I’ve been sitting here in agony for two hours?

He shrugs. “A bit young for me. But we got along fine.”

There’s something he’s not telling me, and I intend to get it out of him. “So, you’d like to see her again?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He takes another sip of his wine, then sets down the glass.

“I don’t understand.” I set my glass beside his. “We have a limited timetable here.”

Clearing his throat, he glances to the windows again before meeting my gaze. “Did you ever want something you can’t have?”

A wave of lust rolls through me. “Yes.” My voice is just a whisper.

Sterling leans in, cupping my jaw as he guides my mouth to his. Hot and hungry is the only way to describe his kiss. His tongue slides against mine, deepening our connection, and in that moment, I’m lost to him.

He is my everything. My unrequited crush. The source of my desire. He’s the thing my fantasies are made of. Which is… incredibly stupid, I remind myself.

Sterling makes me wish that happily-ever-afters weren’t just for fairy tales. Because to me, he is perfection. All that delicious British swagger wrapped up in one hot package is enough to make panties melt.

Wrapping my arms around his powerful shoulders, I move in closer, kissing him back with every ounce of the hot, fiery passion burning through my veins.

His mouth is hot and demanding, and somewhere my brain fires on, telling me I should put a stop to this. Then I decide I just don’t care. I lean against him as we kiss, savoring each wave of pleasure cresting through me.

He makes me feel alive and desirable. It’s addicting.

“Do you have any idea how sexy you are?” he growls.

I chew on my lip, sure that’s a rhetorical question.

“You’re so tempting.”

I know exactly what he means. Never in my life have I been so tempted to say screw it to my morals and have a dirty night of debauchery. Sadly, I know I’m not the type who can do that without regretting it in the morning. I’ve always been more of a committed-relationship type of girl. But I think I’ve been missing out on the casual fun other people my age seemed to enjoy.

“Sterling . . .” I grip his shoulders and push him back. “We need to stop.”

As hard as it is, I make myself move away. At the far end of the couch, I pull my knees to my chest and take a deep breath.

“You’re not dating anyone, are you?” he asks.

“I wouldn’t be here doing this with you if I was.” Pushing my hands into my hair, I release a long exhale. “I shouldn’t be doing this, anyway.”

He leans closer and rubs his thumb across my lower lip, his expression amused. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

Smiling at me, he chuckles. “You’re right. I’m not sorry. There’s no denying we have an attraction.”

“We can’t let ourselves get carried away,” I correct him, using my sternest voice. “And I’m serious this time.”

“Aye-aye, captain.”

His attempt at being funny only endears him to me more. Because, us keeping our hands to ourselves? The struggle is real.

I excuse myself to the restroom for a few minutes, and when I emerge, I find Sterling standing in front of the windows, looking out at the traffic that never seems to slow.

“Can I ask you something?” I’ve been wondering about this since we started our special project; I just haven’t had the courage to ask until now.

“Sure,” he says, turning to face me.

“What are the qualities you’re looking for in a wife?”

His gaze moves from mine to the floor. “That’s tough to answer. Never thought I’d have a wife. I never wanted to get married.”

“But you’re still going through with this, right?” I ask, suddenly feeling unsure.

“Of course. I told you, I have my reasons, but I have to go through with this.”

I nod. “I remember.”

“I suppose the qualities that are important are someone honest. Someone who gets along with my mum. It would help if we had compatibility inside and outside the bedroom.” He smirks.

“Yes, that would help.”

“I haven’t put as much thought into it as I should have. I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “What about Rebecca . . . have you thought about her? You guys already know each other; obviously you did share some common interests.”

He clears his throat. “Our shared interests were work and that we were both lonely.”

My eyes widen. Okay, that wasn’t what I was expecting to hear. The thought of him with someone else makes my palms sweat, and I get that dizzy feeling that comes right before you get sick.

“I’m sorry.” He takes my hand.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”

We’re still learning about each other, feeling out this whole unique situation. But it’s moments like this where we share real conversation that I discover more of the man he is underneath.

“I’m no saint. I’m sorry to disappoint you. If you want to walk away now, I totally get it.”

I force a sad smile onto my lips. “And miss all the fun? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank God. I need you if I’m to survive the next six months.”

I walk him to the door, then take two steps back so I’m not tempted to contort my body around his muscular one, or steal another mind-blowing kiss.

Sterling releases a sharp exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is just bollocks. There’s someone I genuinely like right now and I have no idea where it might lead, but I have this time bomb ticking in the background, deciding my fate for me. Talk about the worst timing ever.”

Butterflies tingle inside my stomach. “Then you should find a way to show her how you feel.”

We share an intense moment where his eyes don’t leave mine, and I find myself swaying forward the tiniest bit.

“Show her?”

I nod. “Actions speak louder than words.”

“Right.” He rubs the back of his neck. “You’re absolutely right.”

“Night, Sterling,” I say as he steps into the hall.

“Night, gorgeous.”

I close the door and press my back against it, then immediately sink to the floor. My legs are mush, and the only thing that’s going to cool me down is a cold shower.