Could he even begin to understand why she’d given up everything because she hadn’t liked what she’d been doing or who she’d been doing it for? That she’d run? To Europe, and then Africa, Asia? And when she hadn’t found what she was looking for in foreign places—that nebulous, indefinable something that would make her life make sense—she’d come home to see if she could find it by travelling through her own country.
Seeing that he was still waiting for an answer, she shrugged and bit the inside of her lip. ‘I’ve been travelling for a long time.’
‘Why?’
She tipped her head and shoved her tongue in her cheek. ‘I’m trying to find myself—to work out why I do the things I do and make the choices I make.’
His lips quirked at her dramatic tone. ‘Any luck with that?’
‘Absolutely none,’ Remy replied in a mournful voice. And even while she was mocking herself she silently admitted that she was starting to become slightly concerned that she never would.
‘And how do you support yourself and your gas habit?’
That amazing thumb had resumed its rhythm on her wrist. She could no more pull her hand away than she could adjust the temperature of the sun.
Savings, investments, property … She’d worked so hard that she’d never had time to spend any of her ridiculously huge salary. She earned enough in interest and dividends and rental, and from the occasional virtual consulting job she took, to allow her to keep travelling for a long, long time. If she was really lucky she would find whatever it was that she was looking for soon—in Portland, maybe, or in the next town she visited.
‘When I need to I find work.’ There were always IT consulting projects popping into her inbox—some of which she took on, if they were interesting enough.
‘Doing …?’
‘This and that … I’m a hell of a cook—and, for the record, a really bad waitress.’
He laughed again and she felt her womb contract. Why was getting this hard-eyed, hard-bodied man to laugh such a kick? Such an incredible turn-on?
‘Good to know.’
‘So … what do you do?’
Bo lifted his eyebrows. ‘What do you think I do?’
The corners of his mouth lifted in a sexy little smile. Was he flirting? He was so contained that she couldn’t be sure, but she’d give him the benefit of the doubt.
‘I’ll play that game. Well, you look marginally intelligent,’ she teased. ‘Accountant?’
Bo pulled a face. ‘Ugh!’
She pulled a face too. ‘Lawyer?’
‘Double ugh!’
She tapped her finger against her lip. ‘So, not an accountant or a lawyer? I’d still say that you’re in management.’
‘Yeah.’
And she just knew that he was the top branch of a very tall tree. She couldn’t imagine him taking orders from anyone. He was too controlled, too alpha … not her type at all. As a long-term prospect, she clarified. Along with her career she’d also given up on love and her dreams of happy-ever-after with a nice man followed by a couple of kids. She’d finally—finally!—learnt that, despite what people said, love, trust and approval were conditional—very much dependent on what she delivered.
So three years and two months ago she’d stopped playing that game, and she now kept any new relationships simple. Most of them were transient and fleeting anyway, due to the fact that she was constantly on the move.
And this was pure sexual heat shimmering between her and Bo: passion, lust and incredible chemistry.
Remy lifted her head from watching his thumb on her wrist—so fascinating, so thrilling!—and her eyes slammed into his. She swallowed at the heat and passion rolling through them and sighed when Bo lifted his hand and that magical thumb brushed her full bottom lip.
‘So sexy,’ he muttered as his other hand gripped her thigh.
Remy looked down at his hand and could easily imagine those tanned fingers on her breast, that wide hand sliding over her hip, under her bottom, lifting her to him …
Then he leaned forward and his mouth touched hers … warm, wonderful. Remy, shocked and surprised and utterly turned on, had to grab at his biceps to keep from falling off her stool. Bo steadied her by holding her waist, and she could feel the ridges of his fingers through her thin cotton dress.
Remy held on to his wrists and, wanting more of his deliciousness, pressed her mouth back onto his. He tasted like whiskey and breath mints and his lips were a surprise. Warm, firm, dry … Confident. That word again. What he was to his core and what she only had a glossy, thin layer of…
His hand moved to her spine, kneading as he worked his way up to her bare shoulders, moved around to touch her face. His thumb skated over her cheekbone as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth.
Remy’s eyes flew open at the bolt of lust that spiked through her. Where had that come from? She couldn’t remember when last she’d been kissed with such mastery, such complete and utter self-assurance.
She wanted more of this—more of him. Now. Tonight. One night of passion with a man she knew would rock her world.
Grabbing every last bit of courage she had, she made herself pull back from him, determined to be sensible just for a minute.
‘This sounds like an extraordinarily personal question, and I know you can lie when you answer but I hope you don’t. Are you married? Involved?’
Apart from those hot, tumultuous eyes, he looked as calm and collected as before. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he drained his drink. ‘No.’
‘Good.’ Remy nodded. ‘It’s one of my little rules.’ She shrugged a slim shoulder and forced herself to say the words. ‘Been tested lately?’
Bo remained unruffled. ‘Yep. I’m good.’
‘Me too, but I’d still expect you to use a condom.’
‘Noted.’
‘Okay, then.’
Remy, hoping, praying, that she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life, stood up and draped her black leather bag over her slim shoulder. She was as nervous as hell—couldn’t believe that she’d had the … well, the courage to do this. Knowing that laughter would loosen the tension between them, she deliberately looked down at his feet before flashing him a naughty grin.
‘You know what they say about men with big feet. Want to prove that to me?’
His shout of laughter had more than a few customers looking their way.
Yeah, laugh, cutie, Remy thought as they left the bar. You sound amazing.
‘You okay?’
Bo’s voice rumbled across her skin and Remy nodded, rubbing her head against his shoulder.
‘Wonderful, thanks.’
And she genuinely was. Sleeping with Bo was nothing like the last one-night stand she’d had, and she was thrilled that it was so much more. There were no regrets this time—no feelings of guilt, no resentment at not being satisfied.
She felt relaxed and calm and, weirdly, safe.
She’d hit the one-night stand jackpot, Remy thought on an internal smile. Very good-looking, and his body, under those sharp threads, was droolworthy. Long, lean muscles, ripped abs, broad shoulders … And he smelled divine.
He was the best lover she’d ever had by a million miles.