Chapter Four
Michael
I woke to the warmth of a soft, pliable body next to me. My morning wood had me seeking out her comfort. She grumbled when I made contact, and I opened my eyes. Danielle.
She lay on her side, her face half buried in a pillow with dark brown waves hiding the other half. One knee was bent. The sheet rested on the swell of her hip, leaving full, creamy breasts on display.
Propping on one elbow, I trailed my fingers over her shoulder, dragging kisses behind them, down the back of her ribs to her waist. We hadn’t had sex again after going to sleep, despite my plans to spend all night fucking her into oblivion. I flexed my hips so that she’d feel how hard I was.
With an unintelligible whine, she scooted away and shoved her head under the pillow. Obviously not a morning person.
Smiling at her grumpiness, I rolled the other way and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. As I made my way to the bathroom to shower, I shook my head over the fact that I was happy to let her sleep. Usually, I’d be eager to get my bed partner on her way and uncomfortable if she lingered too long. But I didn’t want Danielle to leave. I wanted more time to explore the feelings she evoked in me.
My mother had always said, “You’ll know when you know.”
All my life I’d listened to my gut. My instinct had never led me wrong, whether it was reading a route on the football field and knowing when to change the play or getting the sense of a client and what they wanted before they themselves knew. And I knew almost instantly when a woman wasn’t the right one for me.
But something deep inside told me this woman might be different.
After I showered and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, I grabbed my phone and trotted downstairs. As I hit the fifth tread from the bottom, it squeaked, reminding me of our game on the stairs last night. I grinned, a bounce in my step as I entered the kitchen.
A few minutes later, I had coffee made and eggs whipped and scrambling in the pan. Setting the spatula aside, I poured a mug of the strong black brew and blew on it. Coffee was the only Americanism I couldn’t give up when I’d made the move to England. Even after ten years, I simply couldn’t abide tea.
Settling a hip against the counter, I called the office.
Jaycee picked up. “Good morning, Townes & Winters Design.”
“Jaycee, it’s Michael.”
“Good morning, Mr. Winters.”
“Good morning. Can you please tell Robert I won’t be in today? I don’t have any appointments, and something has come up.”
“Of course.”
“Cheers.” I disconnected the call and scrolled through texts. There was one from my mother saying she hoped I had a good time last night. If she only knew.
A text alert went off as I was about to set aside my phone to tend the eggs.
Dom: Sorry I didn’t let you know we wouldn’t be at the art exhibit. Daisy said she was too tired to go, and I’m with Sarah in South Africa. Her father is in ICU in Cape Town. Don’t know when I’ll be home. Daisy is at my apartment. Will you check on her? She hasn’t answered any of my texts or calls.
Daisy. Yep, a flower.
I thumbed a quick answer and made a mental note to follow through.
Me: Sure. I’ll run by your place at lunch.
Tucking my phone in my back pocket, I stirred the eggs and popped two slices of bread into the toaster. I planned to take Danielle to my favorite bistro near Portobello Road Market tonight. Then we could shop, eat, and stroll through Hyde Park. I don’t know why it was important to me that she loved my city as much as I did.
Probably because I’d waited so long to find a woman who made me feel the way she did, and she would only be in England for a few more days. Wasn’t that what she said? Only in London to get lucky, and all I can think about is getting you alone and naked and fucking you until it’s time to catch my flight home.
Maybe I’d throw those words back at her and suggest she keep her word because just thinking about never seeing her again—
A squeak on the stairs told me that my sleeping beauty was finally awake. “I’m in the kitchen, luv.” When she didn’t answer, I called out, “Danielle?”
Still no answer.
I turned off the heat, laid the spatula on the spoon rest, and walked around the wall blocking my view of the living room. Wearing only the white dress shirt I’d worn the night before, Danielle was on her hands and knees, crouched low and looking under the sofa. Twin half-moons of creamy flesh peeked from the tailored hem.
My dick stretched toward my abs. I could take her from behind. Right there on the floor. Or…she was already on her knees. It wouldn’t—
“Damn it.” The curse was barely audible, but the level of distress behind it broke into my lust-filled musings.
“Can I help?” I asked, striding toward her with every intention of forgetting breakfast and taking her back to bed as soon as she found what she was looking for.
She spun around, her hair wild, her dark eyes wide. Pink stained her cheeks and flowed down her neck. Slender fingers clutched her tiny purse to her chest. “I, um, I can’t find the keys.”
“What keys?”
“The ones to get back into D—the place where I’m staying.” She crossed to the wall I’d fucked her against, dropped to her knees, and began stuffing things into the purse—a phone, a tube of lipstick, and a credit card.
“We’ll find them later,” I said, giving up on going back to bed for now. She didn’t look like her morning grumps had worn off yet. “Come have breakfast. Do you drink coffee?”
Her head jerked up, and she shoved her hair out of her face. “I don’t have time for coffee. I have to find those keys. I have a meeting at one.”
Disappointment filtered into my hopes of having her all to myself today, but I rallied. Surely, whatever meeting she had planned wouldn’t take long. My plans could work around hers. “Let me help you look.”
She swiped her dress off the floor and held out a hand to stop me in my tracks. “Turn around.” When I didn’t catch on, she added,” So I can get dressed.”
“You’re kidding, right?” I laughed. “I’ve already seen you naked.”
“That was last night.” She waved a hand. “Hurry.”
I did as she requested, no matter how silly. Material swished, presumably as my shirt came off, then swished again as her dress replaced it. How could the confident woman who stripped for me and masturbated while I watched turn into this shy and fidgety female?
I turned back around to find her flinging cushions from my couch. “I doubt they’d be there, luv. We never made it to the couch.”
“Stop calling me luv and help me find them.” She deserted the sofa to rifle through the peat moss covering the soil in a potted plant.
Not daring to point out the plant was across the room, I put in a serious effort to help her find her keys.
Ten minutes later, I heard a sniffle and dropped the curtain I’d just checked under. She was leaning against my now-favorite wall and wiping a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand.
Rising from my knees, I said, “Where is your meeting?”
“Downtown.”
“Not to worry. I can take you.”
She blinked at me and another tear fell, only to meet its demise with another swipe. “I’m not worried about how to get there.” She laughed. “But I can’t go like this.”
I took in her long legs and the swell of her breasts threatening to spill from the bodice of her rumpled dress. I agreed but went with humor. “I don’t know why not.” I grinned. “You’ve got my attention.”
“Well, that’s great”—she flung out her arms—“but I’m not trying to fuck the people I’m meeting, am I?” Her head fell back as regret washed over her face. “I’m sorry. That was a bitchy thing to say.”
I let her words roll off my back. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t make light of a situation that clearly has you upset.”
She slid to the floor, drew her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. Her forehead dropped to her knees. “This has all been a big mistake. I shouldn’t be here.”
Now, those words were different. Here I was thinking she might be the woman I’d been waiting for, and she called what we shared a mistake.
Oblivious to my thoughts, she went on, her voice muffled. “I’m sorry. I know guys like you are one and done. I wanted to be out of here before you woke up, but I overslept. And now, it’s all awkward—” Another sniffle. “—and so fucking humiliating.”
Guys like me? The words stung, but clearly, she wasn’t wrong in her perception of me. Until last night, I’d been exactly the guy she described.
I crossed the space between us, sat beside her, my back to the wall, and pulled her onto my lap. She didn’t fight me. Instead, she curled her arms around me and buried her face in my neck.
“Look at me, luv.”
“Danielle,” she murmured, her breath warming my skin.
“Danielle.” I splayed a hand on the side of her face and used my thumb to tip her head back until her watery eyes met mine. “The only thing awkward is knowing you planned on sneaking out of here this morning without saying anything when I took the day off to spend more time with you.”
Her eyes flared in surprise. “You did?”
“I did.” I wiped the last of the wetness from her cheek. “And I have an idea that could solve your problem.”
“A locksmith?”
Chuckling, I moved her from my lap, stood, and held out my hand. “No, we’ll save that as a last resort.”
She accepted my hand, and I pulled her to her feet. I couldn’t resist the taste of her lips, but I kept it chaste. “You go shower, and I’ll make a call.”
Her brows dove into a doubtful frown, but she turned around and started up the stairs.
I headed for the kitchen, grabbed my coffee mug in one hand, and leaned against the island. I pulled my phone from my pocket and pressed a number on speed dial, then lifted the mug to my lips. I took a gulp only to wince as I swallowed the tepid coffee.
I poured the rest in the sink as my mother answered, “Michael?”
“Hi, Mum.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, but I need a favor for a friend.” Until I figured out what this thing was with Danielle, friend was all my mother needed to know.
“What friend?”
“Her name is Danielle.”
“Michael Chandler Winters, you haven’t gotten this girl in trouble have you?”
I laughed. “No, Mum, it’s nothing like that.”
“I’m listening.”
“Well, you see…”
****
Danielle
Feeling clean and somewhat calmer, I followed Michael to his car parked in front of his house. He said he could help me, so I had little choice but to put my fate in his hands.
“It’s just a couple of blocks.” He opened the passenger door. “Normally, I would walk, but since we’re in a bit of a time crunch…”
I slid into the sleek black sedan, and he shut the door. As he rounded the front of the car, I looked at him fully for the first time that morning. In jeans that hugged his ass and a T-shirt that had seen better days, he still sent a swarm of butterflies fluttering around in my belly.
How could anyone regret a night with this man? I certainly didn’t. Not the night anyway. But I’d turned into a burden. He’d tried to assure me otherwise, that he wanted to spend the day with me, which thrilled the hell out of me. I just hoped it wasn’t a mistake. I mean really, my fantasy had been fulfilled.
And yet, as he slid into the car with a happy grin and pulled away from the curb, the engine wasn’t the only thing revved up and ready to go.
Michael wasn’t lying. The trip literally took two minutes. He turned two corners and parked on a street similar to his. The front doors of the white homes were fewer and farther apart, indicating the homes were likely larger. Posher, too, judging by the architecture. This was old money England.
He jumped out of the car and hurried around to open my door while I was still gawking at the ornate beauty of the buildings.
“Who lives here?” I accepted his hand and unfolded from the comfy leather seats. If he’d brought me to one of his supermodel-thin booty calls, I was out of here, even if I had to walk all the way back to Chelsea.
The front door opened before he could answer, and a lovely woman in her fifties smiled serenely at us. Her hair was blonde with a hint of gray, her eyes were the color of thunder clouds, and she appeared to be about my height. The same build as me, too.
He greeted the woman with a kiss on the cheek. “Good morning, Mum.”
Mum?
“Hello, darling.” His mother glanced at me, never batting an eye. “Hi, I’m Laura.”
“Danielle,” I choked out.
“Come in, come in.” She backed into the hall, so that we could enter, and Michael closed the door.
Her gaze swept over me, taking in the wrinkled dress, the amount of leg showing beneath the short hem, my hooker heels, and no makeup. This was not how I would have wanted to meet his mother, looking like a hot mess, not that I’d ever considered meeting her when years ago, Dominic had sung her praises.
“I understand we have a bit of a dilemma,” his mother said.
I resisted the urge to tug on my dress. It wasn’t going to get any longer. Instead, I smiled. “A bit of one, yes.”
Laura looked at her son and nodded, then turned to lead the way into the living room. “I believe I have just what you need.”
I grabbed Michael’s arm to keep him in the entryway. “Your mum ?” I whispered. “Really? You brought your one-night stand to your mother’s house?”
This was no walk of shame. This was a fucking marathon.
He frowned, and his eyes flashed with… What? Anger? Hurt? Confusion? Whatever it was, it disappeared as he patted my hand and pulled me forward. “She’s good at this. Trust me.”
Feeling like a peasant, I let him drag me farther into the elegant home.
“Can I offer you something to drink?” his mother asked.
I didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but—
“We’re in a rush, Mum.” Michael laced his fingers with mine. “Her meeting is at one.”
“Then let’s get to it, shall we?” Laura nodded as if to answer her own question, then looked at Michael. “Why don’t you go find something to do and leave us to it?”
“Of course.” He nudged me as his mother glided toward the stairs.
I balked. “Don’t you dare leave me here.”
“You’ll be fine.” His lips cut off my argument with a quick peck. “I’ll go look for your keys again.”
Then he was gone, and I stood staring after him.
“This way, dear.”
Like a prisoner on my way to the gallows, I followed Laura up the stairs and down a hall to an open door. I entered a bedroom decorated with whites and creams and tans. The only color was a painting with splashes of teal and blush pink. I wanted to explore it further, examine the brush strokes, to see who the artist was, but I contained my curiosity as Laura waved a hand toward the bed.
“I’ve taken the liberty of choosing a few possibilities,” she said, “though Michael only explained it was for a meeting. If none of these are appropriate, we’ll find something else, but he described you perfectly, so they should fit. We’re about the same size.”
Glancing from the clothes laid out on the bed to Laura, I struggled not to fidget. “I’m so sorry to have intruded on you this way.”
“Nonsense. It’s been a long time since my son has needed me. A mother misses that, you know.”
Memories of my mother would argue that statement, but I read understanding in the woman’s eyes. She wasn’t judging. She was trying to help her son.
“Besides,” Laura said, “when he said he was bringing over a girl, I admit I was a little excited and quite a bit curious. He’s never brought a woman home to meet me.”
And he still hasn’t. But I couldn’t tell this kind woman that her son was only taking pity on me because I’d bawled like a baby. I wasn’t special to him, and I’d be gone by Monday. “Well, I thank you all the same.”
She nodded. “I’ll put the kettle on while you try these on. I’ve left the rudimentary essentials of makeup”—she pointed to the vanity by the window—“though I dare say you don’t appear to need much—if any.”
Laura exited the room and closed the door behind her.
I stood there, overwhelmed by the generosity of both son and mother. My pride needled me to graciously decline their help, but unless Michael found Dominic’s keys, I had no other choice. And saying no would be rude at this point.
Sighing, I removed my sad, wrinkled dress, which left me standing in the middle of the room in my bra and heels. Crossing to the bed, I carefully fingered the edge of a black jacket in one of the garment bags. It was lightweight wool, lined with black silk. The pants had a lean silhouette with fitted hips and a flare at the hem. This had to be designer.
I flipped the waistband of the pants and read the couturière’s label. Lady Laura Chandler.
“Oh. My. God.” How could I not have put it together? Michael’s mother was the Lady Laura, one of my favorite fashion designers and far beyond my department-store budget. I couldn’t afford the pants, much less the matching jacket. Still, I couldn’t resist trying them on.
Slipping out of my heels, I stepped into the pants and could honestly say I’d never felt such luxury. The lining was cool and soft against my bare legs, not to mention on her ass and lady bits. The white, silk shell went on next, a stark contrast against the ebony jacket with one button that nipped in at the waist. I slid back into my heels and turned to face the mirror. My legs looked longer than ever.
Wow! It was amazing what a well-tailored outfit could do for a woman’s figure…and her ego. It was perfect, definitely a power suit.
I turned this way and that. So maybe I could splurge just a little. I could probably recoup the loss in…oh, say a year…and only if I got the new job.
A giggle escaped to fill the silence of the room. Dominic had offered to let me stay with him until I found an affordable alternative, but a year might be pushing it, especially with Sarah in the picture.
Without trying on the other beautiful piece’s, I quickly took off the suit and blouse and hung them on a hook behind the door. Sitting at the vanity, I peered in the mirror and got to work pinning my hair in a loose-but-tidy, messy bun. A contradiction in terms if ever there was one.
Twenty minutes later, I gathered my torn dress and made my way to the stairs. Pausing at the top, I realized I had missed the neatly arranged grouping of pictures displayed on the staircase wall. One by one, I stopped to admire them. Michael as a boy of ten in a prep school uniform with his tawny hair and straight white smile. No doubt he’d broken many a little girls’ hearts.
On the last step, I lingered to admire a couple of photos of him in his football uniform. One was with Dominic at the stadium after a game. The other was with his mother. His hair was a gorgeous mess, sweat plastering the front to his forehead, and his smile was infectious. My lips tilted upward, and I heaved a wistful sigh.
Dominic had said Michael’s mother never missed a game, spent the entire fall season in the States just to watch him. That was when I had started saving to go see Dominic play. If Michael’s mom could fly all that way from the UK—
“Here you are.”
Startled, and feeling a little guilty for ogling her son, I took the last step down and smiled. “Just going down memory lane.”
“Do you miss your family?” Laura asked, her head cocked to one side.
I blinked. Fuck, did she catch my slip.
Michael didn’t know who I was, so why would his mother? “Oh, yes. I’m hoping to be closer to my family soon.”
“Michael called. He’s on his way,” she said, without a trace of suspicion. “We’ll have a nice chat and a cup of tea while we wait.”
Following her to the kitchen, my conscience prickled. This woman was so kind, so…everything my mother had never been, and all I wanted to do was confess who I was, why I’d lied, and ask for advice.
Instead, I deviated from all talk of family. “The suit is lovely. You’re very talented and one of my favorite designers.”
“You’re sweet.” She stopped at the counter to pour us both a cup of tea and smiled, conspiratorially. “I was hoping you’d pick that one. From the moment I saw you, I knew it was perfect for you.”
“I don’t know how I’ll ever pay you back for your help, but I will send payment for the suit.”
Laura waved a hand in dismissal. “Nonsense. You look lovely in it. Besides, just seeing the look on my son’s face when he looks at you is payment enough.”
More guilt. How could I tell her she had it all wrong?
“How did you two meet? Are you a client?”
I sipped at her tea, stalling while I tried to figure out how to answer. I couldn’t lie to her any more than I already had, after the kindness she’d shown. “We met through a friend.”
Not a lie. Dominic was my brother, but he was also my best friend.
The front door opened and shut, and a second later, Michael joined us in the kitchen. His eyes widened, then sparked in appreciation…and hunger, which was entirely inappropriate with his mother standing there. “You look stunning.”
His mother gave me an I-told-you-so nudge. Flushing from head to toe, I slid a glance to the woman whose eyes twinkled knowingly.
I lowered my cup to the counter. “I should go, but if you won’t let me pay, I’ll make sure this gets cleaned and returned to you as soon as possible.”
“No need.” Laura laid a hand on mine. “Think of it as a gift.”
“I couldn’t.”
Michael moved in beside me and took my hand from his mother’s grip. “You can’t argue with my mum. She’ll have her way no matter what.” He turned to his mother. “Cheers, Mum. I owe you one.”
He hurried me out the door and to the car. “We should have just enough time to get you there.”
When he climbed into the driver’s side, I leaned toward him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
He snorted as he started the car and gave me a sly grin. “I was expecting better recompense than that for coming to your rescue, but I’ll seek payment later.”
“Some knight in shining armor you are, wanting payment from a damsel in distress. What ever happened to chivalry?” I relaxed as he pulled into the lane and aimed for Central London. It was all working out, thanks to Michael and his mother. “I didn’t know your mother was Lady Laura Chandler.”
He slid me a quizzical smirk. “How could you?”
Fuck . “I-I just mean I’m surprised. That’s all. The names don’t match.”
“She took back her maiden name when she divorced my father.” His bitter tone told me I’d hit a nerve, so I changed the subject.
“She asked if I was a client. Do you often sleep with your clients?”
He chuckled. “No. But if you’re fishing, I’m a partner in an architectural firm. In fact, my office isn’t far from where you’re meeting, so I might run by to pick up plans for a new client, and I have another errand to run.”
When he didn’t elaborate, I turned to look out the window and tried not to feel like shit for keeping secrets from him. He was so open and honest. I really needed to tell him I was Dominic’s little sister and our meeting wasn’t by chance. But the words wouldn’t come, and I wasn’t ready to end the fantasy or risk rejection. Not yet.
Twenty minutes later, he stopped in front of the fake address I’d given him. I wasn’t sure if he knew Daisy’s interview was with the museum, so I’d found a place close by. I’d have to catch a taxi or hoof it to my destination.
Before I could open the car door, he leaned over, his hand at the back of my neck, and pulled me in for a soul-searing kiss. My nipples peaked, and my core contracted. I melted into him just as he retreated.
His breath warmed her lips. “Now, that made all the hard work of your rescue worthwhile.”
I shoved at his shoulder, giggling like a giddy teenager, and opened the door. “I have to go.”
Once the door was shut behind me and I stepped onto the curb, the window rolled down. I ducked to look at him.
“I’ll be right here waiting,” he said, “when you’re finished.”
“Are you sure?” I figured I’d take a taxi to his place, find Dominic’s keys, and make a graceful exit…if that was what he wanted. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He waved and drove away.
As soon as Michael was out of sight, I hailed a cab and climbed in. Ten minutes later, I sat in the outer office at the back of the museum, trying to catch my breath. I ended up being five minutes early for my interview and took a moment to check my phone.
There were thirteen texts from Dominic. The first told me that he and Sarah had landed and were on the way to the hospital. The second was several hours later with news that Sarah’s father was stable but still in ICU.
Worry showed up in the third.
Dominic: Hey, text me back to let me know you’re okay.
Dominic: Daize?
Dominic: Are you okay?
Dominic: Answer your phone.
Dominic: You’re really scaring me.
Dominic: Dammit, Daisy. Where are you?
His messages went on like that until the last one, which had come in five minutes ago.
Dominic: If I don’t hear from you in the next thirty minutes, I’m calling the police and catching a flight home.
I looked up at the director’s door to make sure I had time to answer. I couldn’t let Dominic come home because I’d silenced my phone at the art exhibit last night and forgot to turn it back on because I was too busy having sex with his friend.
I thumbed as fast as I could.
Me: Sorry. I’m fine. I was just tired last night, so I turned off my phone. I’m about to go into my interview. Love you!
Lies, lies, lies. But there was no way I’d tell him the truth, that I’d seduced and slept with Michael. I could barely believe it myself.