One Hot Crush (Hot Brits Book 3) Read online

  The second I step off the train at Stamford, my phone rings.

  "Are you there yet?" Dane asks when I answer the call.

  "Yes, I'm in Stamford. But I haven't gotten to Eddie Masters' place yet."

  "I forgot to mention Eddie is sending a car for you. The driver will have a sign with your name on it."

  Glancing around, I spot a man holding a cardboard sign with my name scrawled on it in big red letters. I wave to the driver, who nods. "I see him. How's it going with Noah?"

  "He keeps calling me 'Mr. Dixon, sir.' It's odd."

  "At least he's being polite." I follow the driver toward a silver Lexus sedan and climb into the backseat. "I doubt you'd like it if he called you 'dude.' Noah seems nice. I'm sure you two will get along."

  "Not as well as I got on with you."

  I get a warm feeling all over when he says that. "You should take Noah to lunch. Make him feel welcome. The poor kid took the job with two hours' notice."

  "All right. I'll take him to lunch." Dane lowers his voice to a husky rumble. "But I absolutely will not be kissing him in the hallway."

  I smile with my lips sealed, holding my fingers to my mouth until the urge to laugh subsides. "Just buy him lunch like the good boss I know you are."

  "Yes, I will." He pauses, like he's thinking about what he wants to say next. "I'd like to have dinner with you again tonight. For extra practice. The publicity campaign starts in earnest in ten days."

  "Guess we'd better get practiced up, then." Practice making out with Dane. Oh, that sounds like exactly what I'll need after a long day of working for a fitness trainer and taking the train back and forth to New York. But there's a problem. I'm already tired from not sleeping well last night. "Um, I think I'll be wiped out after my first day at a new job, plus the commute."

  "I'll order takeaway and bring it to your flat. It would be, ah, good for us to get it on---Uh, get in the habit of, you know, doing things together."

  The Lexus is pulling into the driveway of a large house.

  "Okay," I tell Dane, "we can meet at my place. Not sure what time I'll be home."

  "Call me when you get off the train."

  "It's a date." I decide I really ought to go all in on playing the part of Dane Dixon's love interest, so I add, "See you tonight, honey. Can't wait to snuggle with you."

  Dane sputters, and I bet there's spittle flying. "Y-yes. God---Goodbye."

  Click. Call ended.

  The driver opens my door for me. Wow, another gentleman in the modern world. Of course, this guy gets paid to be polite to his passengers. I walk up concrete steps to the front door of a big, beautiful stone house that must have cost a fortune.

  Seconds tick by after I hit the buzzer, then the door swings open. And I get my first look at my new boss.

  The guy works out for a living, so I shouldn't be surprised by his ripped physique. But damn, he knows how to flaunt it. Eddie wears skintight blue shorts and a gray tank top, showing off his bulging biceps. His eyes are the color of coffee, his lips are thick and wide, and his face is angular. All of that gives him a ruggedly sexy look.

  I should be hot for this guy, but all I can think about is Dane. What does he look like in workout clothes? Or buck naked?

  "You must be Rika Solberg," my new boss says. While we shake hands, he keeps talking. "I'm Eddie Masters. So glad to have you here. I've needed a PA for a while, but it's hard to find someone who knows what they're doing. If Chance Dixon recommends you, I know you'll be top-notch."

  "Thank you. You're very kind."

  Eddie moves aside, gesturing for me to enter his house.

  It's gorgeous, but I have trouble focusing on the interior design or on his explanations of the architecture. My mind keeps wandering back to my former boss, the one who kisses me like he means it, like he's not pretending, like we're dating for real. But we're not.

  Maybe tonight, he'll change his mind about that.

  I won't hold my breath.

  Chapter Eight

  Dane

  I shouldn't have pushed Rika to let me go to her flat tonight. We could've waited until tomorrow for our next date, but I had an overpowering urge to see her. Knowing she's out there in Connecticut all day, every day, from now on... It makes me uncomfortable. I've gotten used to being welcomed by her smile and her cheerful greetings every morning. From this day forward, I'll hear "good morning, Mr. Dixon, sir" instead of Rika's lovely voice.

  Why does Noah insist on calling me "Mr. Dixon, sir"? It's overkill. Either "Mr. Dixon" or "sir" would be more than enough deference, but he stacks on layers of it. Noah seems like a nice enough bloke, but his face is not the one I want to look at every morning.

  After an entire day with my new PA, I need to see Rika again.

  But she's exhausted. I can tell that the second she opens her door. Especially when she yawns.

  "Hey," she says. "What's for dinner?"

  I hold up a takeaway bag. "Chinese. I hope you like that."

  "Sure." Rika yawns again. "Sounds good. Come on in."

  "Maybe I should leave the food and go. You look knackered."

  "Yeah, I am. But it'll be nice to have dinner with you." She moves to the side so I can walk into her flat. "I don't know how Eddie has the energy to teach all those classes. I got wiped out just watching him."

  She leads me to the sofa, where we sit down with the takeaway bag between us.

  I bring out the cardboard containers that hold our food, along with plastic forks and plastic knives. "I hope you like sesame chicken. I also have Szechuan pork, kung pao chicken, dumplings, wontons, chow mein, and egg rolls."

  Rika laughs while she opens the box of egg rolls. "You brought enough food for five people."

  "You need nourishment after a long day at your new job."

  She smiles. "You're so sweet, Dane. Thank you for bringing all this yummy food."

  Her compliment makes me uncomfortable because I'm the reason she's so exhausted. I insisted she had to take another job, one that's in Connecticut. "I should've brought wine. Sorry."

  "You don't have to apologize for not bringing wine." She plucks an egg roll out of the box. "Besides, if I drink wine tonight, I'll be asleep in five minutes flat."

  "What's wrong with that? You need rest."

  She bites off a chunk of her egg roll and chews it slowly, then she gestures at the many boxes of food. "Aren't you going to eat?"

  "Yes, of course. But I think we need plates." I get up, glancing around. "Ah, where's the kitchen?"

  "I'll get the plates."

  "No, you will not. Point me in the right direction."

  She waves toward a door on the other side of the living room. "In there. Plates are in the cabinet right next to the sink. So are the glasses."

  I hurry into the kitchen and get two plates plus two glasses of water. When I return to the sofa, Rika is still working on her egg roll, biting off small chunks of it and chewing them like she's in no hurry to finish.

  "Here," I say offering her a plate and a glass.

  "Thank you." She sets the plate on her lap and the glass on the table. But when I try to move away, she grasps my hand. Her pale-brown eyes focus on me. "You really are so sweet. That's why I can't understand this fake dating thing. Why don't you get a real girlfriend?"

  "Well, I---uh---" Fuck, I'm tongue-tied again. I use sitting down and putting food on my plate as an excuse to take a moment to get hold of myself. Not that I ever have much luck with that. Not when I'm in the same room with Rika. Or the same building. Or the same world. "Does it really matter why?"

  There. I spoke five unbroken words.

  Rika studies me for a moment while she finishes off her egg roll. "I can't believe you have trouble getting dates. I mean, you're gorgeous, smart, sexy, and super nice."

  She thinks I'm sexy? Of course, she's not saying she wants to have sex with me. Or have a normal relationship with me. A woman of her caliber deserves better th
an a man who talked her into engaging in a fraud.

  "I don't have room in my life for a real relationship," I say. "The re-launch is...complicated and time-consuming."

  "You do seem stressed."

  "There's a lot to do. Frankly, I have no bloody idea how to do most of it."

  "But you ran your own company before signing with Bonsoir."

  "That's true, but..." I focus on my plate and shift food around on it with my fork. "I had one small factory with twenty employees, and I was in charge. I hired Reese to do a single marketing campaign with online advertising. It was Chance's girlfriend who made my business a success by talking about it on her blog. Now I work for the second-largest cosmetics company in the world and have to do whatever Celeste tells me to do."

  "Reese says you underestimate yourself and give everyone else the credit even when it's you who really made your company profitable."

  I stare at her. Reese said that? I love my brother, but he's normally sarcastic and never says anything like that to me. The closest he ever came to giving me a compliment was when he slapped me on the shoulder and said with a smile, "Well, congrats on not cocking it up." That had been on the day I sold my ten thousandth device.

  But he's told Rika I underestimate myself. I have no idea what to make of that.

  "In those wedding videos," Rika says, "you were laughing and grinning. You even made a toast in which you said lots of words without a hiccup. So I know you can be well-spoken and charming. I don't buy that the only reason you don't want a real girlfriend is because you're too busy."

  Should I tell her the actual reason? It's not a complete lie that I don't have time, but mostly, I got so bloody sick of women telling me I'm boring compared to my devices. The last girl who said that was not the first to criticize my bedroom skills. I couldn't stand it if Rika reached the same conclusion about me. Why can't you be as exciting as your toys?

  "Maybe there is another reason," I say, "but we don't know each other well enough to talk about that."

  "Okay, you're probably right." She consumes a bite of sesame chicken, eying me with curiosity. "It can't be a problem in bed. You're way too hot for that, a fact I can attest to since we've kissed twice."

  She'll probably change her mind about that if we ever do have sex. Which is why we won't. Not ever.

  We eat our dinner and talk about inconsequential things, like Rika's favorite places in New York and what Eddie Masters' house looks like. She describes his video recording studio in great detail. She's clearly excited about her new job and enjoying the challenges of working for a fitness guru.

  I work out, but not as much as I'm sure Eddie Masters does. I've never seen the man, much less spoken to him, but I can tell Rika thinks he's impressive. Especially when she says those exact words right after I've thought them.

  "Eddie is one impressive guy," she announces. "An entrepreneur who turned his life's passion into a successful brand." She pokes my chest with her finger. "Just like you."

  "I don't have a brand yet. Celeste explained to me how a brand is different from a line of products, but I honestly can't remember half of what she said. It's all too bloody complicated." I grumble and, I suspect, make a petulant face. I don't mean to, but this re-launch and branding rubbish makes me feel like a child being led around by his mother. "Apparently, a brand involves my face on the sodding package."

  "Celeste will give up on that idea, trust me."

  "What makes you think that?"

  "She's a good person, but sometimes she goes overboard. I've gotten to know her over the past six months, since I became good friends with her granddaughter. Eventually, Celeste will realize she needs to give you some space."

  I hope she realizes that soon. Tonight would be brilliant, but I'll have to wait until Monday to find out if she's seen reason yet.

  "I like Celeste," I say. "But you're right. She can be a bit too...enthusiastic."

  "You mean bossy. Go on, you can say it." Rika leans toward me, her face so close to mine that I can feel her breaths tickling my skin. "Celeste Arnaud is a bossy, bossy woman. Repeat it with me. Celeste is---"

  "Why would I want to repeat that? You're being ridiculous."

  "Maybe. But you need some serious stress relief. Why not spend the weekend at a spa?"

  "A spa? Only if you come along to help me relax."

  The second those words come out of my mouth I know I've made the biggest blunder yet.

  "Sorry," I rush to say. "I didn't mean---That wasn't---Ah, bollocks."

  Rika smiles, like she doesn't mind my faltering speech. "Don't panic. I know you weren't suggesting we go to a spa together for a weekend of Reiki and hot sex."

  I stare at her for several seconds, and my eyes start to burn because I've stopped blinking. She can't mean she wants to... No, she's making a joke. Because, obviously, the idea of her sleeping with me is ludicrous.

  She pats my chest and leans back. "How about dessert?"

  "I didn't think to buy dessert. Sorry."

  "That's okay." Her mouth opens on a big yawn. "I've got some Oreo truffles in the freezer."

  She starts to get up.

  I hold up my hand to stop her. "Let me get it. I think I can manage to find the Oreo truffles on my own. I imagine they're round?"

  "Yes. Round, white balls with chocolate streaks on them. They're in a plastic bag. I made them myself. The insides are full of crushed chocolate chips and white chocolate, mixed with cream cheese. Totally decadent and delicious." She licks her lips. "I love feeling those big, succulent balls in my mouth. Mm-mm-mmmmm."

  "All right. I'll find them." I hurry into the kitchen because her description of how good those truffles are has roused my cock. Why on earth would she describe candy as "big, succulent balls" that she loves to feel in her mouth? Is she trying to drive me insane?

  I rummage in the freezer until I find the large, plastic bag full of big, white balls. My balls will be blue in thirty seconds flat if Rika describes these truffles to me again.

  After dumping the truffles onto a plate, I go back into the living room. I've just sat down on the sofa again, and I'm about to speak, when I notice her eyes are closed. She still sits sideways on the sofa, angled toward me, but her cheek rests on the back. Her breathing has become even and shallower.

  Rika is asleep.

  I pop a truffle into my mouth and chew it. The flavors of the semisweet chips and white chocolate merge on my tongue, and the cream cheese makes the truffle, well, creamy. It tastes delicious, like Rika said it would.

  After returning the truffles to the freezer, I hunt around until I find a fleece throw, then I lay it over Rika's shoulders. She looks so beautiful sleeping, her mouth curved into the faintest smile, her face and body completely relaxed. I envy her for that. When was the last time I felt at peace? Or took a day off? I can't have a spa day or do anything else that might in the slightest resemble relaxation.

  I'm too fucking busy.

  Chapter Nine

  Rika

  I wake up after midnight and realize I'm still on the sofa, but someone has put a blanket over me. Though the floor lamp is still on, I don't see Dane anywhere. Rubbing my eyes, I yawn and sit up, looking around like I think Dane will be waiting in the armchair or something. Of course he's not. I fell asleep, so he left.

  But I see a piece of folded paper that stands upright on the coffee table like a little tent. My name is written on the paper in Dane's handwriting.

  Yes, I recognize his handwriting. Though I only worked for him for a few weeks, I memorized a lot of things about him. He has elegant, crisp penmanship. I envy him that because my cursive absolutely sucks.

  I pick up his note and read it. Sleep well, it says, we can have those truffles another time.

  A yawn overtakes me, so I carry Dane's note into my bedroom and set it on the nightstand where I can see it, then I crawl into bed. I'm gazing at the note when I fall asleep.

  The next day, I decide I
really ought to make sure Dane isn't holed up in his big hotel suite all alone, like the creepy loser our fake relationship is supposed to ensure nobody thinks he is. Yeah, that's the reason I wind up at the Four Seasons Hotel at ten o'clock in the morning on a Saturday. I'm making sure we keep up appearances. It has nothing to do with the fact his sweetness last night gave me a warm glow all over.

  I take a private elevator all the way up to the penthouse suite. When the car stops and the doors open, Dane is standing right outside the elevator waiting for me.

  "Rika, what are you doing here?" he asks. "I saw you on the camera, but you didn't ring me first to say you'd be coming."

  "Um, what camera?"

  "This suite has three elevators and cameras in all of them."

  "Wow, that's a little spooky."

  Naturally, he's wearing dress slacks and a dress shirt. At least he isn't wearing a tie, though he does have shoes on. Shiny loafers. And he has a belt too.

  I remember Elena telling the story of how, the first time she visited Chance in his big hotel suite, he answered the door wearing nothing but a towel. Why couldn't Dane do that? I'm in serious need of man candy. But no, he looks like he's about to hold a meeting with foreign diplomats.

  "Shouldn't you be happy to see your girlfriend?" I ask. Leaning in, I whisper, "Even if it is a sham, we should make sure everyone sees us together. Don't you think?"

  "I suppose you're right."

  Dane steps aside so I can walk past him.

  Holy moly. I've never seen a hotel room like this one before. We're up on the fifty-second floor, with a fabulous view of the city and its skyscrapers with a blue sky as the backdrop. I wander through the huge suite, taking in the jaw-dropping views from the four glass balconies. I stop in what looks like a library. I mean, it has books on shelves, so yeah, it must be a library. The room has gorgeous golden-brown paneling, two sofas, and two chairs, not to mention a baby grand piano---and one of those glass balconies.