Bella Frances – The Scandal Behind the Wedding (страница 3)

Yes, this was definitely a mistake. She’d go back to the complex. She’d have the place all to herself since everyone else would already be on a flight to Ras al Khaimah. She’d soak in the plunge pool. She’d watch TV and text Kirsty to tell her that this was her worst ever piece of dating advice.

Maybe she would see if there were any more companies hiring junior coaches. She still had a couple of week nights free to pick up work, after all. The kids would give her a reason to smile, and any extra cash would be a bonus for Babs. Really—that was what she should be focussing everything on.

It was kind of the girls to suggest she start dating again, but even though she was well over Nick she was well short of the money she wanted to send Babs. Sixty thousand in legal fees and loans was going to take ages to pay—even in tax-free Dubai.

She turned around, ready to leave, more determined than ever to get out of this crazy party. The door opened again. Noise and lots of it—the boozy boys. A crack of command to silence them … dark, disquieting tones … and then cobalt eyes fastened straight onto hers.

She watched as they all piled in. His gang—because there was no doubt that he was the leader—all had their eyes on stilts, as if it was Christmas morning and the gifts were all for them. He stood at the door, letting them go, eyes only on her.

She stalled. She wavered. He waited. And watched. And then he took the decision right out of her hands and walked up to her. Not too fast, not too lazily, but sure and solid—no room for debate.

A slash of white suddenly lit his face, changing it from intense to exceptional as the brightness of his eyes was matched by the brilliance of his smile. He was breathtaking—it almost hurt her eyes to look at him. And to think she’d once thought Nick hot and handsome! This man aced every man-measuring yardstick. He was up close now, and she tipped her head back slightly to look at him. He had that reassuring height that made her feel feminine. A chest broad enough to lay her head on and melt into. Strength and stature … looks and presence. If there were man trophies his shelves would be covered in them.

‘Hi. Good to meet you … again.’

She watched stupidly as he lifted her puppet-like arm and brought her hand to his mouth. His lips were warm with an edge of soft stubble. She felt her eyes widen as he pressed them against her skin and struggled even more to keep up. He lowered her hand, pulled her a little closer and curved his lips into the sexiest smile she’d ever seen. The promise of long, slow and sensual loving was right there in the quirk of his lips. Terrifying.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Georgia.’ She breathed out her name and allowed him to keep her hand in his for a moment, still locked into that stare.

‘Georgia. Beautiful name,’ he said.

Was blue the colour of sin? She thought so—it was laced through his eyes.

‘Danny Ryan.’

‘Hi,’ she said back, finding her voice and a bit of composure.

She shook the hand that he had wrapped in his own and wondered where on earth her default defence mechanisms were. This man was super-league in every sense. Meaning that her run-for-your-life hormones should be pumping, instead of her gooey-girl hormones.

Come on, get back in the game—bath, bed and beyond is where you’re headed. Then a trawl for another job. The last thing you need is to get caught up in something like this with someone like him.

‘It’s nice to meet you, Danny. But I’m afraid I seem to have wound up at the wrong …’ She looked around, wondering how you would actually describe this. ‘I think I’m totally at the wrong party.’

He let her fingers slip away when she tugged her hand free, but held her with that presence, or force-field, or whatever it was.

‘Well, that’s a pity, because I was hoping to get the chance to properly apologise for what happened earlier. The boys have been working flat-out—they’ve had a couple of drinks and are being a bit loose with their tongues. I had a word with them—all of them—before we came in here. I hope you weren’t offended. Apologies—they meant no harm.’

‘Thanks, but since it wasn’t you who offended me there’s no need to apologise—and I am really in the wrong place. So …’

She looked around at his group who’d brought a whole new energy to the place. A place she really didn’t feel very comfortable in—even with the hottest guy in the room so up close and personal. Especially with the hottest guy in the room so up close and personal.

‘So. Yes. Thanks. Nice to meet you but I’m going to head off.’

He frowned slightly. Very slightly. As if he hadn’t quite given her permission to leave. You had to laugh at these guys. Clearly not used to anyone doing anything other than fall into line. But the adrenalin had definitely kicked in now and she’d decided on flight not fight. She was so not going there. What would be the point? He would think that she was a lot more liberal than she was just by virtue of actually being in this crazy place. And even though she badly needed some attention, a little bit of salve for her bruised and battered ego, she’d prefer it was with someone who would settle her down rather than stir her up.

‘Tommy.’

He didn’t so much bark out the name as growl it. And instantly the pain in the neck from the elevator appeared before her. His nose was sunburned and his eyes were slightly glazed. But he was lapdog-ready where his boss was concerned and he issued an instant apology.

‘Really sorry for what I said … and did … in the lift.’

‘Forget it,’ she said, looking away, looking for a clear path out.

But things were beginning to happen. Girls were coming forward, smiling and flirting. Heading right for the guys like homing devices. They were of all races. And all beautiful. Tall, cool, blonde. Hot Latino. Dusky, dramatic, dark. Pouty, elegant, ebony. And, yes, Celtic and pale. A smorgasbord. Were they all single? Really? Or had she arrived at a very different type of party?

Tommy didn’t hang around—he went straight back to the boys, swung his arms round two stunning girls and moved off, laughing as if this was the best Christmas Day ever.

She looked at Danny Ryan. Oh, no. He must think she was as easy as them. And—worse—he must be looking for that kind of girl. No way a guy like him was single by choice. None. Not a chance. The sands were still shifting. The waters were deep. And deadly. Time to swim for the shore.

‘I’ve got to go.’ She grabbed her bag tightly to her side, made to leave. Didn’t want to be there a moment longer.

‘Wait,’ he said, reaching out for her hand. ‘Why don’t you hang around a bit?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘That’s not going to happen. This is not my kind of party.’

He looked around, frowned. ‘Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s not at all what I was expecting either.’

He focussed his piercing stare back on her. As if it would compel her to stay.

‘Why don’t we find somewhere a bit more—civilised?’

She tried to look away from those eyes—she really did. But they took some amount of staring—so many blues … not a trace of cloudy grey or mossy green … just blue and black and deep. You could easily lose hours of your life staring into eyes like those—just looking for a flaw. But she didn’t want to waste any more of her life. She wanted to get her life back. Back on track. Back to earning as much as she possibly could, so that she could start to clear some of Babs’s debts and then finally get on a plane and the longed-for flight home.

‘Thanks, but I think I’ll head home. I’m not really in the mood now.’

He swung another glance around, frowned a little more. Seemed to check out what his boys were getting up to.

She did the same and saw that they were getting past first base and straight to third without so much as a casual introduction. This wasn’t a singles party. This was a brothel!

‘Give me a minute—I need to check in with my boys. They don’t know what we’ve wandered into. Then we’ll go somewhere else to fix your mood.’

He pinned her in place with a confident nod and then called a couple of his guys over to chat. She could go—she should go. Nausea was beginning to form in her throat. She knew this kind of party went on—she wasn’t stupid. But she’d never been up close and personal to it. She’d never seen with her own eyes—girls who could be her or her friends—girls dressed for a club night. But the only club they were going to was one that paid their wages.

She didn’t want to judge, but if this was what she thought it was she really didn’t belong here. And she certainly didn’t want to be hooking up with any guy—no matter how gorgeous—at a place like this.

He was still rounding up his team—some of whom looked less than impressed that he was calling time on their fun. Some of the girls stared over at her. If looks could kill …

Definitely time to go. She pulled the strap of her bag tighter, squared her shoulders and headed to the door.

Suddenly there was a noise and the crowd of girls and guys in front of her melted away. She looked up to see the cause of the commotion. Uniformed men. Police. Oh, no—could this get any worse?