Natalie Anderson

Nice Girls Finish Last


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get the ‘sorry but no thanks’ out and he’d already cupped her elbow and started walking them down the stairs. Her response surged higher. Incredible how the sound of his voice and the lightest grip on her brought on such giddy anticipation.

      She was melting—into a mess. This wasn’t going to work. She’d never spoken so suggestively in her life. In her last relationship it had been her ex who’d done the running; only at the end had she acted so desperately. Now she’d been more forward than she could believe, to someone so out of her league. Seth Walker was probably used to having women in his bed who did the splits five ways while swinging from a chandelier. She’d never been anything better than average in anything, not even sex. Her best course of action was a speedy withdrawal before she made more of an idiot of herself.

      ‘I’m sorry about your jacket,’ she muttered as they got to the entrance level.

      ‘No, you’re not.’ He laughed. ‘But that’s okay, it wasn’t a favourite.’

      She walked with him across the car park, because she couldn’t decide how to phrase her escape and because he moved with such assurance it was easier to go with him than against him. He’d put sunglasses on and she couldn’t read his expression. She’d have put hers on, too, except she was holding her bag in a death grip and couldn’t relax her fingers enough to operate the catch.

      ‘This is mine.’ He stopped by a beautiful gleaming black car. Its design spoke volumes—not some flashy low-to-the-ground sports number with a huge stereo system like most of the rugby guys drove, but sleek, solid, offering extreme comfort. ‘You ready to go?’ he asked.

      ‘Actually, no.’ She tried to smile back but her mouth was too stiff. ‘This was such a … We don’t have to do dinner. I don’t know what came over me,’ she mumbled. ‘I was just being … being …’

      ‘Provocative?’

      Yes, she had been. Only, now she’d provoked his reaction, she didn’t think she could handle it.

      ‘Stupid,’ she corrected, staring at the car rather than him. ‘Look, I’ll catch the bus. I’m sorry you had to come back here.’

      ‘You’re not catching the bus.’ He smiled, totally friendly and not at all wolfish. Well, she didn’t think so—she couldn’t see his eyes. ‘At least let me drop you home.’

      Oh. Lena breathed. He’d capitulated easily—she’d been reading this wrong. He wasn’t that interested. And she refused to admit to that sudden disappointment. ‘No, I’m okay. I’ll get the bus.’

      ‘I’m here anyway, I’m driving back through town …’ He still looked friendly, but like he didn’t really mind either way. ‘Be silly to waste the gas.’

      As she hesitated he flicked a button and unlocked the car. She shouldn’t refuse. She’d look silly and rude and hadn’t she been silly and rude enough to him? She didn’t want to look any more pathetic than she already did. ‘Okay, but I’m really sorry for wasting your time.’

      She was even more sorry she didn’t have the guts she’d had an hour before. She slid into the car, felt the leather practically embrace her. He pulled out of the park instantly, the engine so smooth it was almost inaudible.

      ‘I’m disappointed,’ he said. ‘I was looking forward to cooking up something fresh for you.’

      Despite the gentle airconditioning, Lena’s temperature surged and butterfly wings beat in her belly. But he’d spoken so blandly there wasn’t any undertone going on, right? ‘You caught me at a bad moment when I was … wasn’t thinking.’

      ‘Now I’m even more disappointed.’ His lips curved. ‘I thought I’d finally found a woman who’d hold her own with me. I was excited about that.’

      Hold her own? Okay, the undertone was there and searing images filled her head—ones where pleasure was extreme and mutually exhausting. ‘I think we should forget about what happened this afternoon,’ she mumbled.

      ‘No, you don’t.’ He suddenly laughed. ‘And I can’t. Anyway, I need to offer you a genuine apology and you do owe me for the jacket.’

      Did he have to laugh? It was too seductive. ‘You can send me the bill and you don’t need to apologise, your assumption wasn’t that bad. Or surprising, considering how it must have looked.’

      His grin widened, which wasn’t right, because she wasn’t trying to tease him, she was trying to engineer an almost dignified exit.

      ‘I apologise anyway,’ he said. ‘And as for your account, I’d prefer your time over your money.’

      A smooth line. A turn of his head that spelt intimacy. Her hot-for-him hormones soared—turning her back into that malleable toy with ‘his to play with’ on the label. She took a quick breath and told herself to calm down. It was mad to feel his every word and glance so intensely.

      He drove confidently, sliding along the thinnest of lanes with nerve-twanging speed, asking briefly for directions. She gave them as best she could, given her whirling thoughts and seesawing intentions.

      ‘How long have you worked at the stadium?’ he asked.

      Easy conversation. Thank goodness. ‘Nearly eighteen months.’

      ‘And you don’t mind being the only woman among all that testosterone?’

      ‘There are women working there—in catering, front of house.’

      ‘But not with you.’

      ‘No.’ Admittedly she’d liked it that way at the start. She’d found that women judged more than men, their approval was harder to win and easier to lose and she’d been wary about making new friends. She’d steered well clear of the wives-and-girlfriends club and even further from the behind-the-wife’s-back mistresses. But now she was happier than she’d ever been and she’d love to find some girls to hang with. Trouble was now she was so busy at work she didn’t have much time.

      ‘So the guys don’t bother you?’ he asked, the tease apparent in his tone. ‘I imagine they can be pretty demanding at times.’

      ‘You mean like the baby oil request?’ She giggled. ‘I don’t mind them, they’re just goofing. My brother was a national basketball rep, my father the assistant coach.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve been surrounded by packs of competitive, sporting males my whole life, I know how to handle jocks and jerks.’

      ‘Yeah, you left your mark on a couple today, that’s for sure.’ He laughed, too. ‘So does your brother still play?’

      ‘He’s in the States now on a full scholarship at one of those Ivy League places.’

      ‘Impressive.’

      ‘Yeah, he’s pretty amazing.’ Her kid brother wasn’t just a stellar athlete, but a genius academic, as well. But even he couldn’t hold a candle to their super-gifted sister. Lena loved them both, was proud of them both. And wanted them to be even just a little proud of her. So she was working on it. ‘My place is next on the left.’

      He turned the car into her driveway and she braced herself to begin the goodbye she’d been mentally practising. ‘Thanks for—’

      ‘You know, I was hoping you’d change your mind,’ he interrupted. Taking off his sunglasses, he swivelled to face her. He knew what he was doing. Anyone who looked into those blue eyes would be hypnotised into saying ‘absolutely’ to everything.

      ‘Invite me in,’ he said bluntly. ‘I’ll cook. Won’t take an hour and your debt’s paid.’ A so-easy deal from a wicked expression.

      She didn’t answer. At that moment, she simply couldn’t.

      ‘It’s too nice a night to dine alone.’ He was shameless about using that gorgeous smile.

      Seth Walker was a winner and she knew why. She also knew that if she