Blame It on the Bikini

chapter SEVEN



BRAD was lost in thought when his sister thumped his shoulder.

‘What was that for?’ He frowned, rubbing his biceps more from surprise than pain.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ Lauren asked.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean those two women just swished past you with hips and bits wiggling and you didn’t even look at them. Plus I almost beat you today, which has never happened in our whole lives.’

Seated at the tennis-club lounge, Brad felt more confused than ever. ‘What women?’

Lauren’s mouth fell open. ‘Are you sick?’

Okay, he had been somewhat distracted this morning. ‘I’ve got a tough case on.’ He offered a genuine excuse. Gage Simmons was truanting again and still not speaking to his psychologist, and the idea of his parents coping with a mediation conference was a joke.

‘Isn’t that even more reason for you to scope out some action?’ Lauren said sarcastically. ‘That’s your usual stress release, isn’t it?’

Once upon a time it had been, sure. But he hadn’t looked at another woman in days—there was another consuming his brain space. ‘Have you seen much of Mya recently?’

‘My Mya?’ Lauren’s pretty nose wrinkled. ‘Not much. Why?’

‘I ran into her recently,’ Brad hedged. Seemed Mya hadn’t told Lauren about the mis-sent photo. Good.

‘Where?’

‘At that bar she works at.’

Lauren nodded and sighed. ‘She works all the time.’

‘Mmm.’ Brad knew if he left the space, Lauren would fill it.

‘It was her birthday last month and she couldn’t even come for a coffee with me, she was so crunched between work and study,’ Lauren said.

Bingo.

‘Seems a shame for her.’ Brad hesitated, unsure of how to put his idea forward without his sister guessing what it was he’d really wanted. ‘Your birthday is coming up soon and you’ll get your mitts on all your money.’ Her trust fund would be released. ‘We’ll have to have a huge party.’

Lauren shrugged. ‘I don’t want it.’

‘The party or the money?’

‘The money,’ said Lauren.

Brad paid proper attention to his sister for the first time all morning. ‘What do you mean you don’t want it?’

‘I’m going to give it away.’

‘What? Why?’

Lauren shrugged and looked self-conscious. ‘I want to make a difference. You make a difference.’

Brad smothered his groan and at the same time felt affection bubble for his scamp of a kid sister. ‘It’s easier for me to do that when I don’t have to worry about how much I earn in my job. I can afford to take on the pro bono cases, Lauren. I couldn’t do that as easily without the trust fund.’

‘That’s what Mya said too.’ Lauren frowned. ‘But look at her, she’s so independent.’

‘Yeah, but she’s not having much fun with it. Life should include some fun, don’t you think?’

‘We all know what you mean by that.’ Lauren rolled her eyes and giggled.

‘Not just that. Some simple fun too, you know—party fun.’ Brad stretched his legs out under the table. ‘What are we Davenports good at?’

‘Not that much.’ Lauren sipped her lemonade through her straw.

Brad raised an eyebrow. ‘But we are. We’re really good at putting on a show, right? Let’s put on a show for Mya.’

‘Mya?’ Lauren breathed in so quickly she choked on her drink. Coughing, she asked him the dreaded question. ‘You’re not going to mess with her, are you, Brad?’

He shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Hmm.’ Lauren didn’t look convinced. ‘She’s not as strong as she seems, you know. She’s actually quite vulnerable.’

‘Are you telling me to stay away?’ Brad managed a smile.

‘Would it make any difference if I did?’ Lauren asked point-blank. ‘I just don’t think it would end well. Things don’t end all that well for your women, and Mya’s had enough of that.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Brad grinned, though his teeth were clenched. ‘She’s like a sister to me.’ What did she mean things didn’t end that well for his women? ‘And this is because I have a venue I need to do something with for a night.’

‘A venue?’ Lauren leaned forward, and Brad smiled for real this time. Yeah, his sister had always liked a party. ‘So what were you thinking?’

‘How’s this for a plan?’

Mya got used to the random calls and quickly got in the habit of checking her phone for texts every five minutes. They were short queries about the tiniest details that most people would never think of. One thing to be said for Brad, he was thorough. Very thorough.

In the mornings now he came to the café and ordered a coffee. He never stayed more than ten minutes or so, always moved away when she got busy and had to serve someone. She spent the rest of the day looking forward to her shift at the bar.

Because now he turned up there early every night and urged her to do her worst in creating another cocktail or shot before the crowds came in. She loved the challenge and got the giggles over the often awful results. It didn’t matter if she made something that tasted hideous. They laughed about it—with him naming them outrageously. His word play had her in hysterics. He made suggestions; she ran with them. Together they came up with some bizarre mixes that actually worked and many, many failures. But with Brad, failing was more fun than not. And while they worked on it in that calm twenty minutes or so before the crowds appeared, they talked.

She admitted more about her parents’ troubles and told him about her cousins who lived around the corner. He listened and then, in turn, ‘fessed up more about his parents, and occasionally referenced his work. She knew he was incredibly busy; sometimes he came in looking drained but he always switched ‘on’ as soon as someone spoke to him. But she knew he went back home after their cocktail-mixing session to do more work. It was why he never drank more than a mouthful of whatever they’d mixed. But mostly they laughed—teasing about everything from taste in music and TV shows to sports teams, and swapped stories of wild, fun times with Lauren.

Mya laughed more in those few minutes each day than she had all year. But fun as it was, it was also slowly killing her because her teen dreams were nothing on the adult fantasies she had now about Brad Davenport. He was so attractive, so much fun and yet so serious about the silliest of things for the party. His concern over the finest of details was so attractive.

In days he became a constant in her life—the one person she saw most of aside from her workmates. It was only for a few minutes, but they were the highlight. And then there were all those texts and the never-ending playlist suggestions for the DJ.

Three days before the party, in between her shifts at the café and the bar, Mya was studying at the library. Her phone vibrated with a message from Brad.

Where are you?

She chuckled at over-educated Brad’s inability to use any abbreviated text language. She was similarly afflicted. So she texted back her grammatically correct reply and went back to her books.

She didn’t know how long it was before she glanced up and saw him standing at the end of the nearest row of books. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘It’s my natural home.’ He winked as he walked nearer.

‘But you of all people should know you’re not allowed food in the library.’ She gave the paper bags he was carrying a pointed look.

‘No one will see us.’ He jerked his head and sneaked down the stacks away from the study tables and well out of range of the librarian’s help desk.

‘Brad,’ she whispered. But in the end there was no choice but to follow, and she’d come over all first-year giggly student in the library in a heartbeat.

In the narrow space, surrounded by thick, bound books, he opened the bag and pulled out a couple of pottles and put them on a gap in the shelves.

‘What is this?’ she asked, intrigued.

‘Chocolate mousse.’

Of course it was; why had she even asked? But she did, and she had to ask the even more obvious. ‘You want me to try them?’

‘Yes, they come in these cute little cups, see?’ he whispered. ‘Which do you think, mint or chilli?’

‘You are taking this far too seriously.’ She shook her head, but licked her lips at the same time. Yum. She took a tiny bit on two teaspoons and tried them. ‘They’re both really good. I think Lauren would like—’

‘Which do you like best?’ he interrupted, his gaze boring into her.

Mya’s skin goosebumped while her innards seared. She’d missed that look these past couple of days—that full-of-awareness-and-forbidden-desires look. She’d thought he’d gone all friendly and party efficient and had forgotten that kiss altogether—or didn’t think it was worth anything. Now all she could think of was that kiss and how much it had moved her and that maybe, just maybe, he was thinking of it too.

‘Why does it matter what I think?’ She didn’t have to try to whisper now. Her voice had gone completely husky. ‘This is for Lauren, not me.’

‘She’ll like what you like,’ Brad insisted, stepping closer. ‘Come on, tell me.’

She’d never had lust-in-the-library fantasies. Until now. And right now, all she wanted was for Brad to kiss her again in this quiet, still space.

‘You’ve gone red,’ he said. ‘Was the chilli-chocolate too hot?’

‘Must have been,’ she muttered.

He was looking at her mouth. Could he please stop looking at her mouth? Did she have a huge gob of mousse on her lip? Because he looked as if he wanted to taste, and she wanted him to, very much.

Mya had never felt so hot.

But Brad missed her scorching thoughts. ‘Mint it is, then.’

She nodded. Just. ‘You’ve really got into this,’ she said, trying to pull herself together as he replaced the lids on the pottles and put them back in the bag.

‘I’ve discovered my latent party-planning talent.’ The smallest smile quirked his mouth. He glanced at her and caught her staring. ‘So you’re all set up to bring her?’

‘It’s all sorted.’ Mya nodded. She’d arranged it with Lauren a few days ago. But now that the party was so close, she felt irrationally ill at ease—even unhappy. She’d be glad when it was over, wouldn’t she? She wasn’t sure any more. But the worse feeling was the jealousy—she was envious of how much effort he’d gone to for his sister. Which was just mean of her.

She walked away from him, hiding from his intent gaze, back out to the table she’d been studying at. Hopefully he’d leave right away. But he didn’t. He pulled out the seat next to hers, sat and flipped open his iPad, hooking into the university’s wireless network.

How was she supposed to study now? He didn’t get that when he was around, her brain shut down and all she could think of now was lewd behaviour in the library. She coped for less than five minutes and then she spoke without thinking.

‘Did you ever get it on in the library in your librarian days?’

He shot her a startled look.

‘I mean—’ she felt her blush growing ‘—that’d be the kind of thing you’d have done back then, right?’

She trailed off as his intense look grew. He slowly shook his head.

He hadn’t? Really? She’d have thought that Mr Slayer like him would have … but no. He hadn’t. Nor had she, of course. And now here they were …

Oh, hell, why did that excite her all the more?

She looked at him and decided honesty was the best policy. ‘I can’t concentrate on my study when you’re around,’ she mumbled. ‘At the bar, the café, it’s different. I don’t need to think as hard as I do here. But I can’t think with you …’ She trailed off.

He didn’t say anything, just looked at her with those penetrating eyes. He hadn’t moved in the past ninety seconds. She wasn’t sure if he was even still breathing. Mya felt even hotter than before but now there was a huge dose of embarrassment twisted into her inner furnace as well. She’d all but admitted she still fancied him. But the fact was now she fancied him more than ever. And he’d gone all buddy on her.

‘Maybe it’s best if we work out any last-minute plans over the phone or something,’ she said quickly, trying to recover. ‘It would be easier, don’t you think?’

Slowly he blinked and then seemed to see straight through her. ‘That’s what you want?’

‘That would be for the best,’ she squeaked.

He remained still for a very long moment, still watching her. And then he whispered, ‘What are you going to wear?’

She froze; like his look, his question breached the boundaries from friendly to intimate—but she’d done that herself already. Now she felt she’d plunged off the edge of a cliff and was swimming in darkness. Who knew which direction the safe beach was? ‘I’m not sure.’

‘Not black,’ he said quietly.

‘Probably.’

‘No,’ he muttered. ‘Give me that at least.’

‘Okay.’ Mya could hardly swallow and her skin was doing that hot-and-cold tingly thing again. ‘You’ve done such a great job,’ she said softly, aiming for that conversation-closing platitude—that she meant with all her being. ‘She’s going to be so thrilled.’

‘You think?’ His smile lanced her heart. ‘I hope so.’

Suddenly he stood, not pausing to pack away his gear, just shoving it into his case as he left.

Instantly she felt bereft. But it was for the best. She looked down at the black-and-white text in front of her—the case names and details she had to understand and memorise. She didn’t see any of them. She sighed and blinked to refocus. The sooner the party was over, the better.

He didn’t text the day of the party. He didn’t need to, of course; he had everything planned to the nth degree. But he’d got her thinking. She wanted to get dressed up. Really get dressed up in a way she hadn’t in years. Her kind of dressing where she’d been as loud and unconventional—deliberate, girly. Everything unexpected. She’d been in the black jeans so long she’d almost forgotten her old style. But she didn’t have any money for anything new and had no time to make anything.

Yet there was one dress she could wear. She shied away from the thought—it would be so obvious, wouldn’t it? But she could adapt it, she could wear a wrap or a cardigan or something to dress it down a little … she could get away with it. Maybe.

She went to her parents’ house and picked it up, smiling to herself throughout the long bus-ride. She realised she was more excited about seeing him than she was about seeing Lauren’s reaction to her surprise.

Once dressed, she went to Lauren’s as she’d arranged for their ‘girly night out’—their first in ages.

‘Look at you!’ Lauren squealed when she greeted her at her door.

‘Ditto.’ Mya laughed at how glamorous Lauren looked.

‘Where should we go first?’ Lauren asked, her eyes sparkling.

‘I promised Drew I’d drop something in at the bar. Is it okay if we go there first?’ Mya spun her line.

‘’Course!’

Mya sent the ‘we’re coming’ text as they climbed into the taxi. All the way there she kept up an inane patter about one of her regular café customers—not Brad. Mya’s heart thudded as they swept up the steps. Kirk was on the door and he winked as they walked up and he swung the door open for them.

There was a moment of silence. Then a collective scream.

‘Surprise!’

The cacophony of almost a hundred people screaming momentarily deafened her, but Mya chuckled. The glitter confetti bucketing down on them might have been a touch OTT but that was all the more fun. She gazed at Lauren for her reaction.

Only then she noticed that Lauren was looking right back at her with a huge grin on. And then she heard the crowd chanting.

‘Mya! Mya! Mya!’

‘What?’ Mya gazed round in confusion.

Then—who knew from where—a gong sounded and they all screamed again in unison.

‘Happy Birthday, Mya!’

Mya clapped her hand over her mouth and shook her head.

‘This is for you,’ Mya tried to tell Lauren.

‘Uh-uh.’ Lauren shimmied closer with a wicked smile. ‘Fooled you. We all fooled you.’

Shocked, Mya stood immobile. She didn’t even breathe—only her eyes still functioned, sending images to her brain. And OMG they were all in on it. Jonny was laughing, her varsity mates. Even Drew was grinning. Her fellow baristas from the café were here. They’d all fooled her. They were all here for her.

It seemed Lauren had breathed in giggle-gas as she laughed delightedly, putting her arm along Mya’s shoulders.

‘But it’s not my birthday.’ Mya’s mouth felt as if she’d been at the dentist for a ten-hour procedure and she had all that cotton-gauze stuff still clogging it.

‘You never had a birthday party because you were working.’ Lauren laughed more. ‘So we took matters into our own hands.’

We.

Mya looked into the smiling crowd once more. Her mouth automatically curved into an answering smile even though she was still in shock, still couldn’t believe any of this.

Then she saw him. Brad.

And heaven help her he was all in black—black suit, black tie, black shirt. It emphasised his height, his eyes, his aura of simmering sexuality. The tailored tuxedo a perfect foil for her recycled old prom outfit. If they were a couple, they couldn’t have planned it better. Except they weren’t and they hadn’t.

But he’d planned it—this whole party. Had it been a set-up right from the beginning? What did he mean by all of this? Was this mere seduction? Or a gesture of kindness? Her heart thudded so fast she thought she might faint.

He strode forward from the throng of people and pulled her into a quick hug. ‘I changed my mind about the party once we got to talking,’ he whispered into her ear. ‘I thought it would be more fun to have a party for you.’

Her fingers touched his smooth jacket briefly, the contact with his body far too brief. He pulled back and looked at her for a split second, a shot of truth in his gaze—serious, sweet sincerity.

So all the things he’d asked her about hadn’t been for Lauren, but for her? No wonder he’d wanted to know which mousse she’d preferred. She blinked rapidly, emotion slamming into her. Pleasure, disbelief, gratitude, confusion.

She went cold again—and hot. She wanted this, she appreciated this, she did. But part of her wanted to escape as well. Part of her wanted to be alone.

Okay, not alone. She wanted to be with Brad.

Brad had lost all ability to move the moment he saw her. For a snatched moment of time his heart had stopped, his muscles froze solid, his brain shut down completely. When his system started again, it sped straight to a higher rate than usual. Adrenalin coursed through his veins and desire shot straight to his groin. Yeah, that was the part of him most affected. He drew a deep breath and forced his body to relax. Mya had made it more than clear it wasn’t happening. And that was fine. He was man enough to handle rejection. Except she didn’t look as if she was saying ‘no’ now. Her green eyes were wide and as fixed on him as his were on her. He’d known all along she was attracted to him, but determined not to have a hot affair. He could respect that. He was a man, not an animal, and all this tonight really hadn’t been about trying to make it happen. Only now he finally saw it—the surrender in her eyes, the seduction.

The yes.

She was in that dress. That damn beautiful pink prom dress, with her breasts cupped high and ribbons trailing down her bare back. His attempt to hold back his body’s reaction began to falter. When she looked at him like that? His muscles bunched, rigid with the urge to push her three steps back to the wall and screw her ‘til she screamed. Nothing sophisticated, nothing smooth. Just a wild-animal moment to assuage the white-hot lust consuming him.

But they were in a roomful of people and that wasn’t the show he had planned for them. And it wasn’t what she truly wanted either. She had her other priorities and he could respect them, right?

The only way he’d get through the night alive was to stay away from her and focus on his host duties. He’d been crazy taking this on, on top of his overfull caseload. He’d challenge Mya for her ‘world’s most busy’ title. But he’d done it. And that look on her face had been worth it. Now he could only hope she appreciated the other things he had planned for the evening. But jumping her wasn’t on that list.

Mya was aware of Lauren watching her so she forced her gaze off Brad’s tall frame as he disappeared back into the throng. ‘This is unbelievable.’ She smiled at her best friend.

‘So good.’ Lauren grabbed her hand. ‘Come on, I heard a rumour about crazy cocktails.’

They were there—listed on a chalk-board with Jonny standing behind the bar rolling his eyes over the contents. Mya grinned and ordered the only alcohol-free option—she needed to keep her wits about her.

A crowd formed around her—friends she hadn’t seen or been able to have fun with in ages, workmates with whom she’d never been able to just hang out. Conversation was fast and snatched and fun, and she tried so hard not to keep watch for Brad. She was determined to enjoy this—the first party ever thrown for her.

But an hour or so into it, the lights suddenly dimmed dramatically.

‘What’s happening?’ Mya leaned close to Lauren as the music switched so suddenly nothing but fierce drumming hit max volume.

‘I have no idea.’

Mya stared transfixed as about twenty black-clad figures swooped in, suddenly clearing a path through the crowds and pushing giant black boxes around the floor. The drums continued while the shadows put some kind of construction together.

Brad, looking sexier than a man had any right to be, was suddenly lit up from an overhead spotlight and appeared taller than ever. She realised those black-clad figures had created a small stage of sorts that extended down the middle of the room. Mya, like everyone else in the place, was stunned into immobility.

‘If you don’t mind, everyone, there’s something we need to do tonight.’ Brad’s voice boomed out. He had a microphone?

The black cloths that had been covering the windows behind him dropped, revealing two giant screens. The spotlight went off Brad while on screen an old-style countdown reel played. The guests joined in counting down. As they got to one the entire bar went pitch-black.

In the pregnant pause, Mya leaned in to Lauren. ‘When did he set this up?’

‘You’re asking me?’ Lauren giggled. ‘He didn’t let me in on this bit. I just had to get you here.’

‘You know we’re here to celebrate Mya’s birthday tonight. But the thing that you and I all know, but that Mya doesn’t quite believe yet, is that not only is she an amazing academic and gifted cocktail creator, she’s also an artist. And so for tonight, we’re turning this place into an art gallery and seeing what other marvellous things Mya has done.’

‘He’s what?’ Mya asked, clapping her hand over her mouth to hold back the shriek.

Now she understood what the stage really was—a runway. And walking along the runway now were models. Slim, gorgeous girls in black bikinis and boots, modelling her hats, her accessories, her dresses that she’d created in her teen years and in the first couple of years at university. Where the hell had he got them all from?

She turned to Lauren, who held her hands up in the classic ‘don’t shoot’ pose and shook her head at the same time.

She glanced at Brad and couldn’t contain the crow of delighted laughter. Naturally he’d found a way to get bikini-clad women on the scene. The crowd cheered and clapped, and she couldn’t blame them as the leggy beauties strutted the length and Brad gave a running commentary on each item.

‘There was a time in Mya’s life when we all looked forward to seeing what it was she was wearing—the accessories, the clothes, sometimes the shoes.’

Everybody laughed as a picture of silver-marker-decorated gumboots flashed up on the screens.

‘She moved into this world of recycled clothing, making new from the old, turning someone else’s rubbish into art for herself. Maximalist, statement clothing. More than clothing. It was wearable art.’

Mya gazed at both stage and screen, her heart swelling. He’d created a multimedia display—a live modelling show interspersed with images from the past flashing up on those giant screens and a soundtrack made up of her fave teen beats. She pressed her freezing palm to her hot forehead. All those DJ picks he’d texted her. The really cheesy ones she’d sent back. He’d made a music mashup and photo montage, and it was all so embarrassing and wonderful at the same time.

‘Of course, she designed for men as well,’ Brad said as the tempo of music changed.

Oh, my. Mya’s jaw dropped and she gripped Lauren’s hand, giggling now. Because she’d never designed anything for a guy. But there was an extremely buff guy up there now in nothing but black boxers and some sort of butchered baseball cap. She hadn’t designed it for a man, though one could wear it, of course, but it had just been for the fun of it. And the tie that was now being displayed by another guy with very little else on, that had been her school tie that she’d redecorated in a rebellious fit one day. But that mega-buff guy in nothing but black boxers really knew how to show it off.

‘So come on, everyone, give it up for Multifaceted Mya.’

Oh, no, someone had switched the lights on her. Literally shone the light on her, and some gorgeous thing came down to where she sat with Lauren. It was the buff guy with the cap. Nothing but the boxers and the cap. Mya looked over at Brad and saw his mouth twitching with amusement as he spoke.

‘While Mya makes her way to the runway, here are a couple of stills from the collection where we can see her talent at her best.’

Mya froze on her seat. He couldn’t be serious—she had to walk up there? And OMG there were huge photos of her up on those screens?

The black-clad male model extended his hand to her. She had no choice but to take her turn down the damn runway with the hot stuff at her side.

‘Let’s face it,’ Brad concluded. ‘The lady has an abundance of talent.’

Everyone in the place was on their feet and cheering.

Mya looked at Brad and saw his smile. Tender, a little mocking—self-mocking perhaps—but genuine. It pierced straight through the last thin layer of defence she had left and exposed her to the full glare of his attraction. In every cell, all the way to her toes it hit—how gorgeous he was.

He wasn’t just sexy and funny and handsome. He was nice, thoughtful and caring. It was a side of him she’d never wanted to acknowledge. She’d preferred to keep him in the slutski spoilt-man stereotype. Mr Superficial Playboy. That was the easy way out. But the truth was he was utterly outrageous, utterly unashamed and yet utterly kind.

The lights came back on, and Lauren came up as the bar music resumed.

‘It was all her idea.’ Brad curved his arm around Lauren’s shoulders and drew her close.

‘That’s not true.’ Lauren shook her head firmly.

‘Lauren found everything.’ Brad gave his sister a sharp look.

‘He came up with it when we were playing tennis at the club the other week.’

‘It was supposed to be a party for you,’ Mya said, too shaky inside to look at Brad at this moment.

‘I don’t need a party.’ Lauren shrugged. ‘I go to parties all the time.’

‘I’m getting you back for your birthday,’ Mya promised.

Lauren just laughed as one of her boys claimed her for the dance floor.

‘How did you do all this?’ Mya asked Brad, her mouth dry and still not looking at him.

‘I had help,’ he confessed. ‘With the catwalk and the lighting and the music and stuff.’

Mya shook her head and looked across the room. ‘Where did you find all of it?’

‘My mother’s itemised storage system. Lauren had kept them all.’

Well, it had mainly been Lauren’s clothes Mya had messed with. The only thing Mya had kept was the dress she was now wearing.

‘And you called on all your girlfriends to model for you.’ She felt overwhelmed. ‘Why did you do it?’

‘I found some of the pictures of you,’ he said softly.

‘You and your pictures.’ She stole a quick glance at him.

His mouth had twisted into a wry smile and that soft expression was in his eyes. ‘None as good as the one you sent me, but ones Lauren took when you guys were mucking around a few years ago. You were so bold and so creative. Why have you given all that up? You have real talent.’

‘No,’ she scoffed, totally downplaying it.

‘Didn’t you just see that standing ovation?’

‘You set it up.’ She couldn’t resist the urge to lean closer to tease him. ‘All those beautiful models and all their glorious skin?’

Her words drew a reluctant smile to his lips. ‘All that aside, you really do have talent,’ he insisted.

‘I appreciate this, so much,’ she said softly, her throat aching because it was such a kind thing he’d done for her. ‘But I don’t have time to do that any more. It was a hobby. Life has moved on from that stuff.’

She blinked as bleak frustration dimmed his eyes. ‘Mya, you don’t have a life.’

‘I do,’ she argued, quiet but firm. ‘And I’m lucky enough to have friends.’ Ones who cared. She might even dare put him in that category after tonight. Except, grateful as she was for this night, she didn’t want to lock him away in that neat and tidy box.

Something flashed in his eyes and was almost immediately blanked out. All that remained was resignation—she felt it too.

He smiled as another guest walked up to talk to them. It was that charismatic smile of his, yet strangely devoid of depth. Despite the excessive heat of a crowded club-floor on a hot summer’s night, Mya’s skin cooled as if the first spears of winter had bitten their way through the hot warehouse bricks. His walls were back up; that automatic charming gleam hid the honesty in his eyes. It felt as if she’d lost something precious.

Brad watched her mingle, the gnawing feeling inside worsening with each minute that she laughed and interacted and clearly had fun. She was having a great time, but it wasn’t enough. He was used to getting what he wanted—easily. Giving up what he wanted wasn’t nearly so easy. Especially when she looked at him with that expression in her eyes—the one that told him he could have what he’d wanted more than anything these past couple of weeks.

But successful though it may be to a point, this night was also a failure. She’d appreciated his effort, but she hadn’t understood it. He wanted her to understand she had so much more to offer the world if she’d just give herself a chance, if she just let go of all the burden she took on and let herself be free. She should be doing the things she loved, not just doing things for those she loved.

The realisation hurt and with that came the worse hit—he cared too much about where she was at and what she was doing. When he looked at her now, there wasn’t just that stirring in his groin—there was an ache in his chest.

He liked her—too much to mess around with her. Things don’t end all that well for your women. While he wasn’t sure he agreed with Lauren’s statement, he wasn’t taking the risk with Mya. He could get her to say yes, but she wasn’t cut out for a fling, and he didn’t want more than just that. Even if he did, she wasn’t ready for that in her life. She had her other priorities and that was fine. The only thing to do, right now, was walk away.

So he did.