Текст книги "One King's Way"
Автор книги: Samantha Young
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Samantha Young is a New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author from Stirlingshire, Scotland. She's been nominated for the Goodreads Choice Award for Best Author and Best Romance for her international bestselling novel On Dublin Street.
Visit Samantha Young online:
www.authorsamanthayoung.com
https://twitter.com/AuthorSamYoung
The On Dublin Street series
On Dublin Street
Down London Road
Before Jamaica Lane
Fall from India Place
Echoes of Scotland Street
Moonlight on Nightingale Way
Castle Hill
Until Fountain Bridge
One King’s Way
Hero
One King’s Way
An On Dublin Street Novella
Samantha Young
PIATKUS
First published in the US in 2015 by InterMix, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
First published in Great Britain in 2015 by Piatkus
Copyright © Samantha Young, 2015
Excerpt from Hero © Samantha Young, 2015
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
ISBN 978-0-349-41100-2
Piatkus
An imprint of
Little, Brown Book Group
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
An Hachette UK Company
www.hachette.co.uk
www.piatkus.co.uk
Contents
About the Author
The On Dublin Street series
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Craig
Rain
Craig
Rain
Rain
Craig
Rain
Craig
Rain
Rain
Craig
Craig
Rain
Rain
Rain
Craig
Rain
Craig
Excerpt from Hero
For Amy, Georgia, Rachel, and Shelly.
An ocean may divide us . . . but what’s a little water between the truest of friends.
Craig
Snoring woke him.
The abrasive noise filtered into Craig’s unconscious and ripped him right out of sleep. He blinked against the faint light filtering in from the purple curtains hanging at his bedroom window.
Wait a minute.
Craig tensed.
I don’t own purple curtains.
The memory of last night slowly pushed to the forefront of his brain.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Turning his head in tiny increments for fear he’d wake the snorer beside him, Craig glimpsed a pale face peeking out from the mass of red hair splayed all over the pillows. This wasn’t his bedroom. This was . . .
Donna’s bedroom.
No, that wasn’t right.
Danielle “call me Danni.”
Craig sat up unhurriedly, his muscles locked with tension, worried that any slight movement would cause the snoring to stop and those bright blue eyes to open. Danielle “call me Danni” had hung around until he finished his shift at Club 39, the popular basement bar on George Street in the heart of Edinburgh’s city center. He’d been bartending there full time for five years and there were women who came regularly to the bar just to be served by him.
Some of them to be served by him.
Like Danni.
She’d been coming to the bar for the last few weeks—every Thursday night without fail with her friends on student night. She was a postgrad. And she was fucking gorgeous. Craig could hardly let her down.
But sticking around in the morning?
Nah. They both knew what this was.
Or at least they both would when she woke up in the morning and he was gone.
He winced, hoping she was really all about casual like she’d promised she was last night. Craig never fucked a woman if he thought she might be clueless about the rules of a one-night stand. Ninety-nine percent of the time he read a woman right. There was the occasional one percent who always made him feel like a bastard afterward.
Shattered, and wanting his own bed away from the snorer, he slid carefully out of Danni’s bed and dressed quickly and quietly. He usually waited until a woman had fallen asleep after sex and then he’d leave, but last night he must have been more exhausted than usual because he’d drifted off too.
This was a close call.
He was just tiptoeing down the hall of the flat when a door to his right opened. He stopped in his tracks as a fresh-faced young woman gazed at him from her bedroom doorway.
She cracked a smile at his deer-in-headlights expression. “If you want to stay I can give you some earplugs,” she whispered.
He smirked at her joke and whispered back, “Thanks, but I need to get going.”
She nodded. “Don’t worry, Danni won’t be mad you left.”
“Good to know.”
“She would have thrown you out if you didn’t leave yourself.”
He grinned. “Is that right?”
“Oh yeah.” Her roommate grinned back. “She’s my hero. She’s better at this shit than any manwhore.” With that she shut the door in his face and Craig left the flat feeling amused and more than a little relieved.
* * *
“Pick a girl and settle down, Craig, before you catch a terrible disease. You know your dad was the same until he met me. Slept with anything with a vagina.”
La la la, la la la la.
“Son, are you listening to me?”
Nope. Because there were some words you never wanted your mother to utter, and vagina was one of them. Pretending the conversation had never happened, he opened the fridge, scrounging for a snack.
The fridge was almost empty.
Craig frowned, shut the door, and turned to look at his mum as she made him a cup of coffee with the last of the milk. “Why is the fridge empty?”
His mum glanced up from stirring sugar into his drink. “Och, don’t give me that look. Today was supposed to be my shopping day but they called me in to work to cover for someone. I just ordered some Chinese for dinner. I’ll go for my shopping tomorrow.”
After escaping Danni’s flat that morning he’d gotten home to his own flat and crashed until late afternoon. He’d showered and dressed, caught up with some friends for dinner, and then swung around to his mum’s on his way to work to check on her.
“So you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” She handed him his coffee and sat down at the kitchen table.
Craig followed suit. “Are the girls okay?” He referred to his two sisters, Jeannie and Maggie.
“Fine. Both getting on fine.” She reached over and patted his hand. “You don’t need to worry so much anymore. Things have eased up since the girls moved out.”
For ten years—since he was fifteen years old and his dad died—Craig had been man of the house. He’d left school at sixteen so he could get a job and help his mum out financially. He hadn’t moved out of the house until the girls were old enough to get jobs and help out too. Now Jeannie was engaged at twenty-two and living with her fiancé, and Maggie was in the second term of her first year of university at Aberdeen.
This meant the pressure was off him somewhat, but it was hard to shake the responsibility and the constant concern he’d felt for them for so long.
“And how are you really, Mum?” He sipped at the coffee. “Since Mags left?”
A spark of sadness entered her eyes and Craig felt it in his gut. “I miss her. It’s quiet.” She forced a wide teasing grin. “I’m thinking about getting a cat.”
He shot her a grin. His mum. Cat lady. Somehow he couldn’t picture it. “I’ll try to come by more often.” He stopped over once a week for a coffee before his shift at the bar, and he talked to her on the phone a couple of times a week too.
Maybe it wasn’t enough.
“Don’t you dare,” she admonished. “You’re a grown man. I’m not cutting into your life.”
“You’re my mum. It’s not exactly cutting into my life.”
She gave him a sly smile. “What if I were to tell you I’d joined a dating site?”
Craig jerked a little, completely taken aback. His mum hadn’t been on a date for ten years, and it wasn’t because she wasn’t a good-looking woman. She didn’t look her fifty-five years, with her trim figure and smooth skin. But she’d spent the past ten years caring for her children and missing her late husband.
It would be nice for her to have company . . . but the thought of her dating . . . Craig scowled. “Dating sites can be dangerous.”
She laughed. “I thought you’d take it well.”
“You’re being serious, then?”
She shrugged. “I need a life, Craig. It’s time.”
He mused quietly over this as he drank his coffee. He didn’t like the idea of her using dating sites. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of her dating at all. A heavy feeling sat in his gut—a feeling of concern and powerlessness. He hated it. It warred with the part of him that knew his mother deserved to find happiness again.
Finally he stood up. “If you make a date with someone, tell me about it. I want to know when and where—” He raised a hand to cut off her coming protest. “It’s for your safety, alright? You can’t be too sure these days.”
Sighing, his mum nodded. “Okay, darlin’.” Her eyes filled with tenderness. “Don’t work too hard.”
He gave her a small smile, rinsed out his mug, and kissed her on the cheek. “Love you,” he said gruffly.
Her whole face lit up like it always did when he told her he loved her. That’s why he did it as often as he could. “I love you too, son.”
* * *
“Okay, you haven’t flirted with one customer or Jo this evening, so I have to ask . . . what is going on with you?” an American voice said from behind him.
Craig shot his colleague, fellow bartender, and friend, Joss Butler, a wry look over his shoulder. “I remember getting my head bitten off the last time I asked you that. There might have been a finger involved, and not in a good way.”
She rolled her eyes at his teasing. “Forget I asked.”
“Well I want to know.” Jo sidled up to them.
It was a Friday evening, and they were having a weirdly quiet lull.
“Plus”—Jo shot Joss a teasing smile—“if Joss is using this time to talk to us instead of canoodling with Carmichael then she really must be worried about you.”
Joss glowered at Jo and they laughed.
Across the bar, sitting in their usual seats were Joss’s boyfriend, Braden Carmichael, and his sister, Ellie, and her boyfriend, Adam. Sometimes they visited the bar on nights Joss was working. Craig had never seen a man as smitten as Braden, although it could be said his best friend, Adam, was a close contender.
Craig didn’t blame them. Although he wasn’t really a relationship-type guy, he could see the attraction. Ellie was a tall, very pretty, and very sweet blonde. And Joss . . . Well, Joss was another matter entirely. She was sexy as hell.
He didn’t know if it was the fact that she was gorgeous as fuck with her seductive gray cat eyes and the best pair of tits he’d ever seen, or if it was more than that. Craig had known her a good few years now, and yet he felt like he hardly knew anything about her.
He compared her to his other colleague. Jo was tall, built like a supermodel, and was probably technically the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, and ever slept with. But he knew all he needed to know about Jo. She was a nice enough girl, but he couldn’t fully respect a woman who would open her legs for the richest fucker who came along just so she had a few nice pairs of shoes in her wardrobe. The only reason she slept with him was because they were drunk and she’d just been dumped by the latest wealthy asshole.
However, Joss . . . Joss was a mystery. She was sharp, quick-witted, and rarely gave anything away about her life. She intrigued him. Maybe it was because he hadn’t had her, but he’d always fancied her and saw her as the ultimate challenge. She had the kind of charisma that was rare—it made her stand out to him, made her that wee bit more special than most of the women he’d known. Craig reckoned she was the kind of woman who might have changed his one-night-stand ways . . . But they’d never know because there was one thing he did know about Joss:
She was completely in love with Braden Carmichael.
The lucky fuck.
Craig smirked at the thought. The only reason he wasn’t put out by this fact was because Braden felt the same way about Joss, and . . . honestly, Craig wasn’t exactly unhappy in his pursuit of women. He had it free and easy. Life was good.
Except for one thing.
“My mum joined an Internet dating site.” He saw Joss’s mouth twitch with amusement and rolled his eyes. “Why do I bother?”
“No, I’m sorry.” She held up her hands in placation. “I’m not going to laugh. I swear.”
He shot a look at Jo, who was also trying to contain her amusement.
“Why did Alistair have to be sick tonight?” he groaned and leaned on the bar, lowering his head into his hands, referring to their other colleague who Jo was covering for.
“Are they torturing you, Craig?” Braden’s familiar voice drew his head back up.
Braden leaned against the bar, staring at Joss in amusement.
It had taken Braden a few months to stop looking at Craig like he wanted to rip his balls off—he was pissed at Craig for the time he’d kissed Joss at the bar during a shift. Craig had actually done it partly because he’d always wanted to and partly because he wanted to piss off Braden. He’d assumed Braden was just some rich arsehole who thought he could get anyone he wanted. He’d watched him play Joss that night, hanging on to some pretty brunette’s every word, attempting to make Joss jealous. So Craig had delighted in showing him that Joss didn’t belong to him, that two could play that game.
It worked out in a way he never imagined, but Braden turned out to be a decent guy.
He also eventually got over Craig and the kiss.
“Joss thinks it’s funny that my mum has joined a dating site.”
Braden’s gaze darted to him and he winced sympathetically. “Fuck.”
“Thank you.” Craig slammed his hand down on the bar. “That right there! That is the appropriate reaction.”
“Okay, so obviously I don’t get it.” Joss seemed to unconsciously lean across the bar toward her boyfriend. Braden automatically linked their hands together.
Craig ignored their lovey-dovey shit. “Do you know how dangerous dating sites can be?”
“They’re not too bad,” Jo said.
It was not lost on him that he was a lucky man who got to work alongside two stunning women he had a laugh with, but right now they were being deliberately obtuse and annoying. “Not too bad?”
She shrugged. “My friend found her boyfriend on a dating website.”
“This isn’t your friend. This is my mum.”
“I didn’t realize you were a momma’s boy,” Joss teased.
“Jocelyn,” Braden murmured in warning.
She sighed. “What? What am I not getting?”
“It’s weird for a man to think of his mother being a woman. It’s even stranger for your mother to be dating. It’s concerning for your mother to be dating via the Internet, where there are millions of fucking weirdos pretending to be people they are not,” Braden said.
Her eyes lit up with understanding. “Oh. Right. I see.” She patted Craig on the shoulder. “She’ll be fine.”
“Aye.” Jo patted his other shoulder. “Don’t worry about her. Just make sure she tells someone where and when she’s going if she decides to meet up with a guy.”
He nodded. “I’ve already told her to tell me.”
“Well there’s nothing more you can do, I’m afraid,” Joss said in her usual straightforward manner. “She’s a grown woman and she has a right to make these kinds of decisions. Has it been a while since she’s been on a date?”
“Ten years.”
“Oh hell yeah.” She scrunched up her nose, “You are going let your mom do this.”
“Ten years,” Jo whispered, her eyes wide. “God, I hope I never have to go ten years without getting some.”
“Right,” Joss murmured, shooting Braden a look.
Braden grinned at her. “You have nothing to worry about on that front, babe.”
The thought of his mother doing what they were talking about doing and using the Internet to find men to do it with . . . “Okay, subject change. You bastards just made it worse.”
Braden shot him an amused but apologetic look. “What would you like to talk about instead?”
Feeling uncharacteristically agitated, Craig just shook his head. “I think I’m just going to take my break.”
* * *
When he returned from break the bar was a little busier, and he was feeling somewhat better about the whole situation. Joss was right. His mother was a grown woman and he had to let her do this. He’d be there to protect her if she needed him.
As Jo passed him to take her break, she touched his arm. “I’m sorry about earlier. And I think it’s really nice you worry so much about your mum.”
He gave her a peck on the cheek. “We’re all cool, darlin’.”
She smiled, her stance relaxing a little before disappearing into the staff area.
“So . . . you’re really touchy about your mom,” Joss called down the bar to him as he poured a customer a draft of lager. Joss was anything but sensitive. He shot her a filthy look and she laughed. “I’m just saying . . . this is another side to you. It’s nice.” She shrugged and turned back to her customer.
He shook his head, wearing a small smile. Women. He’d never fully understand them. And that was all part of the appeal.
“And what can I get you, beautiful?” He grinned at his next customer, a mousy-haired brunette with gorgeous big brown eyes.
She blushed. “Two JD and Cokes, please.”
He winked at her. “Coming right up.”
He wandered down the bar to get a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, his gaze roaming over the club. There were more people dancing on the small dance floor at the back of the basement club, and plenty more sitting at tables and standing on the main floor. His gaze was just flitting past the doorway when a woman walked in and his attention automatically swung back to her.
It was the way she walked—sexy, slow, relaxed steps in her high red heels, a seductive sway in her hips that seemed unconscious, and an overall gracefulness about her movements that was incredibly appealing and feminine.
And then there was the way she was dressed.
She looked like some stunning 1940s pin-up girl. Her dark, shoulder-length hair was swept back off her forehead in high, curled waves, and the ends were curled under in a similar fashion. Her black dress might as well have been glued to her body it was so tightly fitted. She was tallish, perhaps not as tall as Jo, but only an inch or so off it in her heels, and she was slim with gentle curves. The square neckline of the dress showed off a very nice cleavage, the cap sleeves accentuated slender arms and the flash of what could be a tattoo on the inside of her upper left arm. The hemline of the dress stopped below her knees, showing off the prettiest, shapeliest calves he’d ever seen in his life.
And now that he had stopped to look, the third thing that froze him in place was her face.
Fuck.
She was stunning.
Big, thickly lashed eyes that he’d bet his life on were dark brown. A small, delicate nose. High, rounded cheekbones. A lush full mouth she’d painted red to match her shoes.
Lust shot through his blood and traveled south.
“You may want to wipe your chin,” Joss’s voice murmured in his ear. “You’re drooling.”
Snapping out of his preoccupation with the jitterbug babe who had just strutted into the bar, Craig scowled at Joss. “Are you just here to take the piss out of me all night?”
She grinned. “When you make it this easy, yes.”
He grunted at her teasing, fighting the urge to laugh, and returned to fixing his customer her drinks.
He worked on, halfheartedly flirting with his female customers and pretending to give them his full attention, when in fact seventy percent of his attention was on the woman.
And he only grew more intrigued as she wandered around the club, assuming an air of casualness while her eyes searched the faces of the punters with a real determination. She was up to something. He just knew it. When she didn’t come near the bar for a drink, his interest only grew as he watched her find a spot behind where Braden and co were sitting, her eagle eyes on the doorway.
For the next hour, Craig watched her as she watched the door.
And he was more than a little surprised by the disappointment he felt when she left the club without ever approaching the bar.
Rain
The sleazy, traitorous, arrogant little bastard wasn’t here.
I tried my best not to look angry, anxious, or out of place at Club 39. The truth was the basement bar on George Street wasn’t really my kind of hangout. It was too trendy and attracted too many yuppie types. Like my sister, Darcy’s, fuckwit of an ex-boyfriend.
I’d never understand what it was she saw in Angus York. She’d been dating him for a few weeks by the time I eventually met him, and I’d been ready to love him since Darcy was so smitten with him. The night we met he said, right in front of her, that I was—and I quote—“Absolutely stunning and incredibly fuckable.” And he did it in this leering, lascivious way that I thought would have prompted Darcy to slap him and tell him to get the hell out of her life. Instead she’d just nodded uncomfortably and changed the subject.
I’d disliked him ever since.
Now . . . now I hated him.
And I was going to find a way to destroy him.
Darcy had told me he loved this bar—he was there almost every weekend. But tonight there was no sign of him. Again.
I sighed, feeling impatient. I wanted to get the plan in motion so it could all be over with. Last night I’d felt like a complete idiot standing at the back of the bar on my own, watching the doorway for Angus. I needed to be more natural.
I needed a bloody drink.
I’d arrived earlier this evening so there wouldn’t be any chance of missing the disgusting ex if he did decide to show up. There were empty seats at the bar but I knew those would fill up soon. I slipped into one, catching the attention of a tall and exceptionally beautiful strawberry-blond bartender.
She smiled prettily at me. “What can I get you?”
“I’ve got this, Jo,” a deep, masculine voice said.
My gaze flickered down the bar and I tensed as I watched the bartender from last night stride toward us.
I’d noticed him watching me last night.
His interest was unsettling, and even more unsettling now that I was up close to him.
He was too good-looking.
Tall, very tall—and I liked my men tall since I wore heels that usually put me at five ten every day. He had thick dark brown hair that he wore in this unkempt, sexy, messy way that was real and not artfully made to look real with hair products. Warm blue-green eyes stared intently at me out of a ruggedly handsome face. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and it looked delicious on him.
The girl, Jo’s, quizzical gaze moved between us before she shrugged and moved out of her colleague’s way.
He took her place, his broad shoulders lengthening as he splayed his arms out, palms to the bar. It was as though he was trying to block out anything from distracting me from him.
My gaze ran up his long arms. They were muscled in a way that told me he visited the gym, and I had a sudden longing to see him without the black T-shirt he wore.
Heat flashed through me.
Bugger.
“You’re back,” he said, giving me a flirtatious smile.
So he wasn’t going to pretend he hadn’t been watching me like a hawk the night before. He was either really damn sure of himself or he was a bit of a creeper. I really hoped it was the former.
“I am,” I said, not flirtatiously. “And I’m thirsty this time around.”
His light eyes gleamed at me. “And what can I get you?”
There was no mistaking the deepening of his voice, or the innuendo in it.
I stubbornly ignored it. “Do you have Fuligni wine? A glass of Brunello di Montalcino if you have it.”
His mouth kicked up at the right corner. “Coming straight up, Ms. Bacall.”
I tried to hide my amusement as he alluded to my penchant for the forties era in my personal style. He turned away from me to pour a glass of wine and I drank in his broad back, feeling the lust stirring in my lower belly.
Bugger, bugger.
He turned back to me, his eyes glimmering with flirtation as he slid the drink slowly across the bar to me.
“How much do I owe you?”
“We’ll put it on a tab.” He leaned his elbows on the bar, bringing his gorgeous face closer to mine.
I found myself falling into the blue-green depths of his heated gaze.
Wine!
I snatched up the glass and took a rather unladylike gulp.
For some reason this made the bartender chuckle. He held out a hand to me as I lowered my glass back to the bar. “I’m Craig.”
Not really wanting to shake his hand, but not rude enough to ignore it, I slipped my hand into his and sucked in a breath when his grip tightened. He pulled me gently forward in the stool.
“I’m Rain.” I tugged on my hand and he released it, but only after brushing his thumb over my skin and making it tingle.
“Rain.” His lips twitched again.
What was it about me he found so vastly amusing?
“Rain Alexander.”
“Rain Alexander,” he repeated. “Stunning name for a stunning woman.”
I cocked my head to the side and studied him. Last night when he wasn’t watching me he was flirting with all of his female customers. Flirtiness just exuded from this man’s pores.
Unfortunately for Mr. Flirt, I didn’t know how to flirt back.
In this case that was fortunate for me because I didn’t want to flirt back!
“You should really stop flirting with me,” I said matter-of-factly.
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“I don’t know how to flirt back. I never learned the art of it.”
“I find it hard to believe that a woman as beautiful as you doesn’t know how to flirt.”
“That right there is why I never bothered to learn to flirt. It’s all bullshit.” I shrugged.
Craig laughed. “Okay. I’m listening.”
Glancing around the quiet bar I realized he really was settling in to listen because there were no other customers to distract him. I looked back at him, hoping what I had to say next would offend his sensibilities enough to get him to leave me to my “work.” “Last night I watched you flirt with every female customer. I bet my life on it that you call them all ‘gorgeous,’ ‘beautiful,’ ‘stunning,’ no matter if they’re any of those things or not. So . . . when you say those words to me, they mean absolutely nothing. The flutter I would get in my belly if another man said them to me, that flush of pleasure I’d feel along my skin, it doesn’t happen when a man like you says them to me . . . because the words have become so throwaway, so overused, they’ve lost their meaning entirely.”
I studied Craig as he processed my words, and he seemed genuinely perturbed by them. He leaned farther across the bar and I got a whiff of the delicious, spicy cologne he was wearing, and that flutter his compliments didn’t provoke suddenly awoke in my belly. I flushed and then thanked my mother’s Puerto Rican heritage for my tan skin that didn’t blush.
“See, that’s where you and I disagree,” he said softly, and the low timber of his voice, combined with the heat in his eyes, only wreaked more havoc on my body. “I believe that there is something beautiful about every woman, so when I say they’re gorgeous, or they’re beautiful, I do mean it.”
I liked that. But I wasn’t convinced it wasn’t a line. “You’re a connoisseur of women,” I guessed, curling my top lip at the thought. “You know just the right thing to say.”
His eyes were drawn to my mouth and I shivered at the naked thoughts in his gaze. “I just say what I feel in the moment.” His gaze flicked back up to my eyes. “Right now I’m thinking you have the most luscious fucking mouth I’ve ever seen in my life.”
A shiver rippled down my shoulders and around to my chest. My nipples tightened and their reaction caused that telltale tingling between my thighs.
Oh bugger, bugger, bugger.
I fought hard to mask my reaction and I think I succeeded because Craig narrowed his eyes in thought as he studied me.
I gave a huff of laughter. “What do you want me to say? I’ve already told you I can’t flirt back, and that with someone like you it doesn’t affect me. You don’t make me feel special when I’m just one in a million.”
“You’re very honest, aren’t you?” he murmured, not looking at all disinterested like I’d wanted him to.
“I say what I feel.”
“And I’m trying to tell you I do the same.” He grinned at me suddenly and its boyish charm practically melted my insides. “I’ve decided I’m not going to lose heart. I’ve got all night to convince you.”
I frowned at his tenacity. “You might not have all night. I’m probably going to leave after I finish my wine.”
“No, you’re not.” He leaned over the bar again. “Because you’re here for a reason. You’re up to something.” He trailed a finger along the inside of my wrist and I couldn’t mask my shiver this time. His eyes brightened knowingly and his grin turned smug, arrogant.
I narrowed my eyes and snatched my hand away from his reach. “I just happen to be sensitive there. Don’t get cocky.”
Craig pinched his lips together to stop himself from laughing, but the effort was railroaded by the laughter in his eyes.
I felt an answering tug of amusement at my own lips and I looked away, hoping the absence of his face would stifle it.
“So who are you looking for?”
My gaze snapped back to him at the question but thankfully I didn’t have to answer because a group of girls wandered into the club, laughing and making a lot of noise. They headed straight for the bar.
Craig winked at me and strode away to help Jo serve them.
Even knowing I shouldn’t, I watched him as he chatted and flirted with the girls. Part of me admired the fact that he didn’t suddenly stop flirting with them in order to make some headway with me, but another, much larger, part was disappointed.
The truth was I’d craved affection my whole life, and since much of my childhood was spent receiving so little, I’d become especially greedy in my adulthood. Since my first boyfriend when I was sixteen, I’d longed to be the only female (who wasn’t related to him) to matter to anyone I dated. I wanted to be a man’s whole world. Like . . . he’d die for me kind of love and vice versa.
When I was fourteen, lonely and starving for affection, I’d fallen in love with romance novels, and ever since then I’d hoped for an epic love story of my own.
I wanted to be the only woman he saw.
Unfortunately, that uncompromising need for full-on love had ruined my relationships. My boyfriends never seemed to live up to my expectations. They never bought me presents just because they saw something that reminded them of me. They looked lustfully at other women when they didn’t think I was looking. It didn’t bother them when another man flirted with me right in front of them.
