Beauty and the Brit by Poppy St. James
CAMRYN
Blinking into the bathroom mirror at the historic Waldorf Astoria hotel, I heave in a deep cleansing breath.
One more night.
You’ve got this.
It feels impossible, but I have no choice in the matter. I have to survive one more dinner with Sterling, and then if things go according to plan, tomorrow he’ll meet the woman he’s supposed to be with and they’ll begin dating so that he can meet his marriage deadline. And I’ll go back to my lonely existence.
I never would have imagined when I took on this project the depth of feelings I’d develop for the deliciously sexy lawyer Sterling Quinn.
Anna and I went over the plan again today. I’m ready for this. She was right. We had to move it up, force his hand at this, and we each need to move on. There’s no other way.
The event is to take place at this very hotel tomorrow morning, in a ballroom on the second floor. I suggested we meet here tonight as a dry run for tomorrow. It would give us a chance to look over the event space, and mentally prepare.
I press my lips together, blotting my vibrant berry-colored lipstick, and then head out. As I walk toward the steakhouse located just past the hotel lobby, I smooth my black shift dress over my hips. Fall in New York is my closet’s favorite time. This dress is comfortable with its long sleeves and pockets, while still flattering, and I’ve paired black opaque tights and my tallest black heels. The only color I’m sporting is my lipstick, and the effect is sexy while still being classy.
Once inside the restaurant, I spot Sterling at an out-of-the-way table for two, and start toward him. When he spots me, he rises from the table. His gaze roams up and down my entire body, from my sky-high heels that make my legs look great, to my kissable lips.
Eat your heart out, Mr. Quinn.
We’re here to cover the details for the event tomorrow. Not to stare into each other’s eyes and fantasize over something that will never be.
That’s what my pep talk in the bathroom was all about. No more falling for his swoony charms, sweet smiles, or his positive outlook on life. No more. My goal is to get him married—to someone else—then collect my bonus and move on with my life. I have to.
“You look . . . stunning,” he whispers, pulling me in close for a quick peck on my cheek.
“Thank you.”
I take a step back and allow him to pull out my chair. I refuse to comment on how over-the-top sexy he looks. I mean, yes, I’d like to kiss his brains out, but that’s beside the point. Tonight I’m playing the role of professional Camryn. In fact, I keep my eyeballs trained on the floor just so I don’t stare.
We sit down and glance over the menu.
I plan to order the biggest, juiciest steak on the menu and a loaded baked potato, with plenty of red wine to wash it all down. And, screw it, I’m even getting dessert. That mountainous slice of chocolate cake I saw on the dessert cart when I came in was practically calling my name. After all, there’s no sense in watching my calories now.
Our wine is delivered and we each take a sip. It’s delicious, full-bodied and aromatic with hints of cherry and plum.
Then I pull out my file folder containing the details for tomorrow.
Sterling clears his throat, and I expect him to comment on the fact that I’m all business tonight, but he doesn’t. He simply pushes the flickering candle aside and leans in to look at the itinerary I’ve set out.
“The festivities kick off at ten in the morning with an hour break for lunch at noon, and then we’ll continue right on through until five p.m., unless you find your Cinderella early. In that case, I have no issues with wrapping up sooner.”
He nods once, his gaze downcast onto the paper.
“The hotel will provide security to keep the line manageable, and of course, assist if anyone gets unruly. The women will proceed from their place in line to one of two tables. They’ll meet briefly with me and Anna, and if we get a sense that she’ll be match for you, Anna and I will ask them to wait in a holding room for their meeting with you to begin.”
“Sounds good,” Sterling says, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I hope there’s not too many surprises. Anna and I already spent the last few weeks prescreening the women. And we’ll arrive early to make sure everything is set up and running smoothly. You’ll have a conference-style room to conduct the one-on-one speed dates in. The setup will be simple—a table and two chairs. I hope that’s okay.”
“Thank you. This is . . . more than I was expecting.”
I nod, accepting his gratitude. “It’s fine. I’m just doing my job.”
His eyes narrow on mine, like there’s something he doesn’t like about me calling him a job.
Silence grows around us, and though I’ve never been at a loss for words around Sterling before, I am now. He’s looking at me like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to solve. The server returns with our food, saving me from the awkward moment of silence that seems to stretch out into forever.
Seared steaks with sautéed mushrooms and goat-cheese crostini. Two fresh glasses of red wine. We managed to order the exact same thing again.
“I feel a little foolish. I’m sorry I was babbling on like that, and now we’re done discussing everything before the entrées even arrived.” I look down at my plate, wishing we’d just wrapped this up with an e-mail, wishing I didn’t feel all the conflicted emotions crashing through me.
“Hey.” His voice is soft as he reaches for my hand. “Let’s not put more pressure on ourselves than is already there. In fact, let’s not even think about tomorrow. Please just enjoy this meal with me.”
His voice is so tender; it’s impossible to say no when he pleads with me like that.
I nod. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” I take a huge gulp of air and pick up my fork.
Sterling shakes his head. “What did I tell you about being sorry?”
I smile for the first time tonight. “To knock it off.”
His chuckle is warm and silky, and I decide it’s my favorite sound in the whole world. Hearing this man laugh, there’s just something about it.
“Not in so many words, but yes. No apologies tonight. Let’s just enjoy a nice dinner and each other’s company.”
Placing a bite of tender steak into my mouth, I moan. “Dear God . . .”
“Are you trying to torture me?” he says with a groan.
I swallow, and my jaw drops open. “I didn’t . . . what?”
“That little noise you made. And, of course, when you showed up looking like you do in that dress. A man has his limits, love.”
“I’m sorry.” I wince, realizing I’ve just broken another of his rules by apologizing when I shouldn’t.
He shakes his head as his dark eyes smolder on mine. “You’re practically begging to be punished.”
A sharp inhale is my only response. I can feel my cheeks turning red, so I focus on my meal, cutting up small bites of steak, chewing and swallowing. But the entire time, I’m hyperaware of Sterling’s sexy presence across from me.
Somehow we make it through the meal, and then Sterling orders us each another wine and requests the dessert menu.
“My mum’s been asking about you.”
“Me?”
He nods. “She wants to know when we’re all getting together to watch Indiana Jones.”
I chuckle. “That would be fun. I wonder if we can find a theater that plays old movies.”
He rubs his chin. “That’s a good idea. I was thinking I’d have to buy it on DVD or something.”
“Soon you’ll have enough money to buy your own theater and show whatever kind of movies you want.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could take them back. He gives me a sad look that says part of him wishes this money never came into his life at all.
“I never got to thank you for taking me to meet her. She’s a sweetheart,” I say.
“I think she liked visiting with you more than she did me.” Sterling takes a sip of wine, watching me over the rim of his glass.
The slice of chocolate cake we ordered is delivered with a dollop of fluffy cream and curls of dark-chocolate shavings.
“Oh wow, this looks amazing.” Tentatively, I pick up my spoon.
“Dig in, love.”
I groan. “I’ve been so good about going to the gym lately. This is not going to end well for me.”
“Not true. And I told you; I like a woman with curves.” He takes a big bite, his mouth moving over the spoon in a distracting way.
I flash him a challenging smirk. “So you’re saying I’m curvy.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t turn this into a bad thing. I’m saying you’re perfection. Every man’s dream. So eat the cake with me, yeah?”
I laugh, despite myself. “Yeah.” Like I can resist, anyway.
We dig in, and soon we’re back to the lighthearted teasing conversations that I feel like I have only with Sterling. It feels good, and so normal and easy between us.
One bite turns into four, and then before I know it, I’ve licked the last of the frosting from the back of my spoon.
“That was amazing.” I wipe the corners of my mouth with my napkin and place it on the table beside the empty plates.
“Thank you for coming tonight. For dinner, for everything.”
“Excuse me for just a second,” I say, rising to my feet.
Two glasses of wine and an ice water with dinner, and my bladder is yelling at me, despite the fact that I don’t want to miss a second of being with Sterling. Somewhere deep inside, I know this is my last night with him.
Once I’m locked inside the bathroom stall, I release a long sigh. I hate that we’re coming to the end of the evening. Hate even more that tomorrow, I’ll be forced at last to play matchmaker and set him up with another woman. Part of me wishes I could stay at that table, laughing and drinking wine with him, and just be in his presence forever.
In the bathroom mirror, I can’t help but notice the reflection looking back at me is somber. Yes, my hair is still blown out into silky waves, and my makeup is still on point, but I can see it in my eyes. There’s a deep sadness there threatening to break down.
But I won’t cry now. I take a deep breath and drop my tube of lipstick back inside my purse.
When I finish inside the ladies’ room, I find Sterling standing in the hallway waiting for me, and I stop suddenly. The look in his eyes is untamed lust. A dark shiver of need races through me.
He stalks closer and places one hand against my lower back. It’s impossible to hold on to the sliver of control I’ve clung to all evening.
“I’m not ready to say good night, and I don’t think you are either.”
I blink up at him, intoxicated with desire and momentarily speechless. “What are you saying?”
“Come with me,” he says, his voice just a rough growl.
I’m not sure if it’s a question or a statement, but without hesitating, I place my hand in his. And then we’re heading toward the elevators as quickly as our feet will carry us.
He stabs the button for the fifteenth floor as anticipation races through me. He must have gotten a room for the night when I went to the restroom. Awfully ballsy of him. How he had time to pay our bill and reserve a hotel room, I’m not sure.
The elevator doors slip closed, and then we’re alone in the small space, my pulse humming. My brain is screaming at me to abort this idiotic mission. There’s no way I can be alone with Sterling Quinn in a hotel room and resist doing something very unbecoming of a lady.
“You look worried,” he says, sliding up beside me. His fingertips are on my chin, lifting my mouth to his for a soft kiss. “Don’t be.”
His whisper of breath over my lips is so soft and tender, I want to melt into his arms.
After another tender kiss, the elevator stops. When the doors open, Sterling presses one hand against my lower back and guides me down the hall.
We’ve been building toward this very moment since the first meeting we had at that sexy, swanky restaurant. It suddenly occurs to me—maybe he’s wanted this all along.
But why? Am I a distraction from his looming wedding? Or is he as attracted to me as I am to him? And more importantly, is that where this all ends—with physical attraction—and once the itch is scratched, we’ll each move on with our lives?
That’s the most likely scenario; even my lust-and-wine-soaked brain knows that.
And still, I want this. I close my eyes and make a silent promise to myself. Whatever happens tonight, I vow not to regret it in the morning.
The hotel room is simple, yet elegant. Sterling flips on a lamp, and while I check out the view from the balcony, he excuses himself to the restroom.
I hear the water running, and unsure what else to do with myself, I go to the minibar and grab two glasses. I screw off the top of a miniature bottle of whiskey and dump half of it in each glass, startling slightly as the low rumble of his voice comes from behind me.
“What are you doing?”
“Just a nightcap,” I say, raising one glass to him. The truth is, I need something for my nerves. My hands are shaky and my stomach is in knots.
We clink glasses and each take a sip.
Wow.That burns. I must make a grimace, because Sterling looks at me with sympathy, then takes my glass and sets it on the dresser.
“Come here.” His mouth lowers to mine, and his hands slide into my hair.
All the tension, all the worry I had slips away. I forgot what an amazing kisser this man is. He tastes of whiskey and sin, and I want more.
He breaks away too quickly, watching my eyes like he’s looking to be sure I want this. I give him a small nod. Taking my hand, Sterling leads me to the bed.
We kiss like that for a long time, our mouths fused together like we’re both afraid if we stop, the spell will be broken and we’ll have to go back to our real lives. In real life there are sick moms and medical bills, credit-card drama, and obligations a mile long. But here, now, there’s only his warm mouth devouring mine in a hungry frenzy. I can taste the smoky flavor of the whiskey lingering on his tongue.
Now that I’ve experienced Sterling’s earth-shattering kisses, I don’t know how anyone else will ever compare.