Christy McKellen – Bridesmaid with Attitude (страница 2)

There was no point in trying to grab his attention with all the pyrotechnics going on, so she settled in to ogle the rest of him instead, taking a moment to appreciate the strong contours of his frame: the dip of his waist leading to the lean line of his hips and the long, muscled legs encased in oil-stained, multi-pocketed combat shorts. She could see a spanner sticking out of one pocket, and what looked like a piece of torn sandpaper out of another.

Her gaze dropped further as she noticed a line of dripped grease on one of his robust-looking calves, and she fantasised for a second about what it might feel like to slide her fingertips over the oily toned muscles there.

She shivered in imagined anticipation.

There was something insanely hot about this man, looking all roughed up and dirty as he did, and a low, familiar throb began its beat between her legs.

Judging by her body’s fiery reaction to him, it had clearly been far too long since she’d last had sex. After spending the last couple of months working flat-out filming her show, not allowing any distractions to tempt her, this guy appeared to have rekindled her voracious sexual appetite, and it was now back with a vengeance.

The sparks and noise stopped abruptly and he turned away from the machine to lob a heavy-looking clamp onto a bench to the side of him, where it bounced and settled with a loud clunk-clank.

Something was clearly bugging him today too, if the tension in those work-honed shoulders was anything to go by.

The hairs on the back of her neck lifted as she became aware that he’d finally noticed her standing there and had shoved his goggles to the top of his head so he could give her an impatient glare, one eyebrow raised in apparent annoyance at her unexpected appearance.

Looking at his face, now it was revealed in all its glory, she noted that he wasn’t what she’d describe as classically handsome—he was a little too rugged, his features too irregular—but there was something darkly appealing about him. Something dangerous. Something devilish.

‘Can I help you?’

His voice was low and husky, but it had the clip of good breeding about it. Perhaps the owner only employed people from the upper classes here, to make him feel more cocooned in his embarrassment of riches.

‘I’m looking for the idiot who owns this place. Any idea where I can find him?’ she said, flashing the guy a winning smile and walking further into the room. Just because she was mad at his boss it didn’t mean she couldn’t be friendly with him.

He pulled a rag from his back pocket and wiped his hands on it while he seemed to consider her question. ‘What do you want with him?’ He looked back up to meet her eyes, his gaze shrewd, as if he knew exactly what she’d like to do with him.

His eyes were the colour of the lichen that had used to grow on her family’s Cornish beach house—a dense kind of greeny-grey with a hint of gold.

‘From the tone of your voice, I’m guessing it’s nothing good,’ he added, shoving the rag back into his pocket, making the lean muscles in his arm twist and flex in the most appealing manner.

Shaking her head, she attempted to break the core-tightening hold he had over her and casually leant one hip against the workbench to steady herself. ‘I’d rather save my wrath for the man in question. He has some serious grovelling to do.’

He raised one eyebrow. ‘Intriguing. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to facilitate your every whim.’ The sarcasm in his voice was so heavy it could have sunk ships.

A loyal employee, then.

She shrugged, giving him a playful grin. ‘He’ll be fine as long as he gives me what I want. Otherwise I’m gonna have to tear him a new one.’

He raised both eyebrows this time. ‘Sounds like I could be done for aiding and abetting a crime if I tell you what you want to know.’

‘Don’t worry—I won’t implicate you.’ She dipped her chin and gave him a wink. ‘It’ll be our secret.’

‘How very generous of you,’ he drawled, still not breaking a smile.

Man, this guy was seriously tough. And hot. And distracting her from her reason for being here.

‘So where is His Lordship?’

Pulling the goggles from the top of his head, he tossed them onto the workbench next to her, not breaking eye contact for a second, his expression remaining impassive. ‘Actually, you’re supposed to address me for the first time as Lord Berkeley, and then as My Lord after that.’

She felt as though her legs had been taken out from under her. ‘You? As in, you’re the Earl of Berkeley?’

What were the odds of Lord Snooty being so gorgeous?

He held out both hands in ironic surprise. ‘What’s the matter? Don’t I look the part?’

She snorted. ‘Not even close. Where’s your paunch? Where’s your receding hairline? You don’t even have a ruddy nose or an inappropriate leer.’

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you.’

‘I never said anything about being disappointed.’

His brow pinched into a scowl and it suddenly occurred to her that she was flirting with the scoundrel who was messing with Lula’s happiness when she should have been ripping him limb from limb.

‘Although I am mad at you for ruining my best friend’s wedding,’ she added, perhaps a little too late to make much of an impact.

Advancing on him now, she raised an accusing finger and pointed it at the centre of his broad chest.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, cancelling her booking a month before the wedding? Do you have any idea how happy she was to secure this place for her reception, especially after all the hoops you made her jump through?’

He opened his mouth to speak, but she wasn’t finished with him yet.

‘Is this about money?’ She ran her gaze over his dishevelled appearance. ‘Has someone offered you more for that date? Because if that’s the case you should be ashamed of yourself. You can’t play with a woman’s hopes and dreams like that; it’s sheer cruelty!’

He sighed and leant back against the workbench, crossing his arms and making his muscles bulge under his tight-fitting T-shirt. ‘She hasn’t been gazumped.’

‘Then why? Why would you do that to her?’

‘Unforeseen circumstances.’

‘What circumstances could be serious enough to ruin someone’s wedding day over? She chose this place in good faith. You signed a contract.’

‘Which gives me the option to cancel a month before the event. She’ll get her money back.’

She took another step forward, going for coolly menacing, but he didn’t move a millimetre. There wasn’t even a flicker of a reaction on his face.

Her heart-rate picked up, chasing adrenaline though her body. This close to him she could make out the scent of grease and hard work that radiated from him, and it was doing something crazy to her libido.

What was it about this mixture of good breeding and rough façade that sent her into such a spiral of lust? Perhaps, having lived and mostly worked in London for so many years, she was too used to being surrounded by metrosexual men—men who would be horrified by the thought of being caught looking so unkempt. There was something oddly refreshing about this guy not appearing to give a fig about his appearance. He’d made no move to tidy himself up at all. He didn’t care what she thought.

She kind of liked that.

Focus, Emily.

‘All right, Lord Berkeley, it’s not as simple as getting her money back and you know it. She’s already sent out the invitations. People are coming from as far away as Australia. They’ve booked very expensive flights. And she’s already confirmed food with the caterers, booked the cushion-fluffers and the petal-tweakers—the whole crazy shebang. She’s been planning this day for a whole year. You’re going to ruin the best day of her life.’

‘She’ll find somewhere else.’

Something flickered in his eyes and he looked almost regretful for a second, until he drew the angry shutters back down on his expression again.

Emily huffed out a disbelieving laugh. ‘She can’t arrange another reception venue now; there’s nowhere decent left to host that many people at such short notice.’

‘That’s not my problem.’

She clenched her fists in frustration, feeling her nails dig into her palms. Clearly he was going to be a tough nut to crack.

Okay, time to change tack and crank up the charisma she was so famous for.

Reaching out, she laid a palm against the rock-hard wall of his chest, right over where his heart would have been located if he’d had one, and brought out the big guns, giving him her most coquettish look. ‘Is there some other way I can persuade you to change your mind? It would mean the world to her—and me—if you could find a way to let her have her reception here.’

She watched in surprise as he put his hand over hers, curled his fingers tightly around it and pulled it away from his chest, dropping it the second it was clear of his body. There was no gentle regret in the move; it was a pure and resolute rebuffal.

The rejection rankled. Men never normally turned her down when she was in full flirt mode. She understood the power she wielded with her face and her body and had utilised it well over the years.

Narrowing her eyes, she pulled back her shoulders and squared up to him. ‘I don’t get it—what’s really going on here?’