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A Doctor By Day...
Emily Forbes












TEMPTED & TAMED


… by two red-hot men!

Meeting the hottest guys in town changes the lives of sisters Scarlett and Ruby Anderson for ever!

When sensible Scarlett is tempted by sinfully sexy Jake—a doctor by day and a sinner by night!—their one night of passion has consequences that will last a lifetime…

And rebellious Ruby finally finds a reason to stick around as deliciously hot racing car driver Noah becomes the only man to tame her!

Be tempted and tamed by these red-hot heroes in Emily Forbes’s delectable duet:



A DOCTOR BY DAY…




A Doctor by Day…

Emily Forbes







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Dear Reader (#ulink_97ab1c9b-2347-55c6-aaf2-c0565fbf0860)


I’d like to introduce you to the Anderson sisters—Scarlett, Ruby and Rose—and their search for a happily-ever-after. Scarlett doesn’t think she needs one, Ruby doesn’t think she deserves one, and Rose looks as if she might not get one. But all that is about to change…

In A DOCTOR BY DAY… Scarlett—the rational, clever, eldest sister—is swept off her feet by Jake, a sexy younger man with an unconventional part-time job who upends her orderly world and steals her heart. And in TAMED BY THE RENEGADE Ruby, the rebellious middle sister, falls in love for the first time when gorgeous Noah gets under her defences and teaches her how to love and accept—not only him, but also herself.

These two Anderson sisters might not have a lot in common, but I discovered they both have a thing for good-looking bare-chested men and, as usual, I had fun creating the heroes for my heroines. Jake and Noah are strong and loyal, smart and sexy, with slight non-conformist streaks—perfect for Scarlett and Ruby, even if they take some convincing.

I hope you enjoy these first two stories. I haven’t decided if I’ll give Rose her own story yet—she’s putting up a good case for it in my imagination, but I’m tempted to let you decide. If you’d like to read about Rose I’d love to hear from you. Drop me a line at emilyforbes@internode.on.net (mailto:emilyforbes@internode.on.net)

Until then, happy reading

Emily

Emily Forbes won a

2013 Australian Romantic Book of the Year Award for her title

SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: BELLA’S WISHLIST




Dedication (#ulink_97b2b013-2dfc-5995-a10b-15989e1f040e)


For romance readers everywhere, this book is written as a thank-you to anyone who has ever read one of my stories.

I started writing this story just after I won the Australian Romantic Book of the Year award for SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: BELLA’S WISHLIST.

I was thrilled and honoured to win a RuBY, which is a reader-voted award, and I definitely couldn’t have done it without your support.

I hope you enjoy this book too, and in particular Jake. He is my gift to you!

Love, Emily




Table of Contents


Cover (#uedd2b98c-8df8-59f3-8a4e-4414d783e2da)

Title Page (#ubf7b6f3e-4bae-5c85-a6a0-590ca99e39d6)

Dear Reader (#u165c84c4-82bf-5277-a626-da0df80b1add)

Dedication (#u87dd5d3c-2dc6-54ad-9a5a-f7081f29780f)

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




CHAPTER ONE (#u7bf07958-3bd1-5280-be5d-5df168839a2c)


‘LET ME GET this straight. Richard proposed and you turned him down?’

Scarlett turned and leant in close to her friend’s ear, taking care to avoid the spiky tips of Mel’s short pixie haircut. ‘Shh,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want everyone to know and I’m sure Richard doesn’t either.’

Mel’s voice hadn’t been overly loud but this wasn’t a conversation Scarlett wanted the rest of the girls in their party to hear. She worked with most of them and she didn’t want to be the subject of rampant hospital gossip and she certainly didn’t want to be the one to start a tale.

She flicked a glance over their group but most of the girls seemed to be more focused on getting inside the club than listening to her and Mel. Candice, the bride-to-be, was at the front of the line, the long white veil she wore making it obvious she was the hen on the hen’s night. The veil was longer than her dress and Scarlett thought she looked ridiculous but what would she know, hen’s nights were not really her thing.

Neither was fashion, she thought as she wriggled her toes, trying to encourage some circulation into her extremities. Her feet were killing her. She’d borrowed a pair of platform stilettos to team with her simple black dress. The shoes and her make-up were the only concessions she’d made to dressing up for the night out but the strappy sandals were proving to be a big mistake.

Scarlett’s taste in clothing tended towards timeless classics, she wasn’t a trend follower. It was a waste of good money, in her opinion, and her feet were now reminding her of her momentary lapse of reason. She couldn’t wait to get inside and sit down. The short walk from the restaurant in Leigh Street to the Hindley Street club was about her limit in five-inch heels.

She couldn’t believe she was keen to get into the club. Spending an evening at a male revue, especially one called The Coop, wasn’t something she had ever done before and she could only imagine what the experience would be like—although if the guy on the door was any example she wasn’t going to need to rely on her imagination.

Candice’s name was on the door, allowing them to bypass the queue and giving them free entry. Apparently Candice knew someone who worked here and Scarlett wondered where on earth you’d meet someone who worked in a strip club, but as the cute young shirtless guy on the door ushered them inside she decided she didn’t care, all she wanted was to sit down.

‘I want to hear all about it once we’re inside,’ Mel said, as another buffed and shirtless male greeted them and led them to their table. The club was dimly lit and it took Scarlett’s eyes some time to adjust to the lighting. A T-shaped stage jutted out into the centre of the club, the catwalk stretching into the tables that were clustered around the stage. A mirrored bar lined the far wall and a dance floor hugged the back wall and was already packed with young women dancing and singing. The noise level was high and almost unpleasant, but Scarlett hoped that might work in her favour. Perhaps the noise would make any sort of conversation impossible.

She followed the girls to their table, which was front and centre at the end of the catwalk, and sank into a chair. Jugs of bright green cocktails were delivered, promptly poured into glasses and passed around, and Mel waited only until everyone had a drink before she continued her interrogation.

‘So Richard was lying in his hospital bed, recovering from heart surgery, working up the nerve to propose, and then you knocked him back?’ she asked, as she sipped her drink. It seemed Scarlett wasn’t going to get out of this.

‘It wasn’t like that,’ Scarlett protested. Surely Mel couldn’t believe she’d be that heartless.

‘Don’t tell me he was down on one knee beside his bed?’

‘No.’ Scarlett shook her head. ‘He was out of hospital.’

‘Well, that makes all the difference,’ Mel teased. ‘How did he take it when you said no?’

Scarlett could tell Mel was enjoying her discomfort but she had made her decision for what she knew were perfectly valid reasons and she wasn’t going to marry the guy just because he’d had a mid-life revelation.

‘He was okay. What other choice did he have really? It was my decision. He can’t change my mind. I think marriage is overrated and it’s not for me.’

‘Don’t let Candice hear you.’

‘She already knows. Richard showed her the ring he bought me, he wanted her opinion.’

‘He bought you a ring!?’

Scarlett nodded.

‘What was it like?’ Mel’s curiosity took another turn.

‘Gorgeous,’ she admitted. And it had been. A squarecut solitaire, over one carat in size, set in platinum. It was in a traditional setting and was exactly right for her, classic and expensive. ‘Almost gorgeous enough that I wanted to accept his proposal.’

‘So why did you say no?’

‘I was thinking about saying yes but then he started talking about having kids and I freaked out. I don’t want kids.’

‘Really? How come I never knew that?’

Scarlett and Mel had been friends for years, since meeting on the first day of med school, but Scarlett hadn’t realised she’d never shared her feelings about children. She supposed the topic had never come up before now.

‘Kids are a huge sacrifice. Believe me, I should know. I’ve seen what my mother gave up to raise me and my sisters. I’ve worked really hard to get to this point in my career and I’m not done yet. I’m not going to give it all up to raise a family.’

Scarlett could feel the effects of the cocktails they’d been drinking on top of the wine she’d had at dinner. She could hear her words weren’t as crisp as usual, a bit blurred around the edges, a bit of a lisp on the essess. She knew the alcohol had loosened her tongue too. She wasn’t normally so forthcoming about her personal life but she and Mel had shared a lot over the years since they’d been paired as lab partners on their first day at uni. They had been the only two who hadn’t already known someone—Mel had moved to Adelaide from Tasmania and Scarlett had been a mature entrant.

She’d felt years older than everyone else and hadn’t been used to the social nuances of teenagers, even though she’d only just been out of her teens herself. Their isolation had been the only thing they’d had in common initially but they’d both recognised that it hadn’t mattered. Over the years their friendship had grown until Mel felt, in a lot of ways, like another one of Scarlett’s sisters, only a lot less trouble.

‘But you don’t have to have kids right now,’ Mel countered. ‘It could wait until you’ve finished your final exams.’

‘I’d still need to establish myself in anaesthetics before I could take time off and Richard doesn’t want to wait. He’s forty-three and he’s just had a major health scare. It’s made him reassess his future.’ Richard’s recent heart attack and minor surgery had been a big shock to him at a relatively young age and Scarlett knew that coming face to face with his own mortality had been the trigger for his proposal and his reassessment of his priorities.

‘You could get a nanny. And a housekeeper. The two of you could afford to pay for whatever help you want.’

‘So I get married, have babies and then hire a nanny and a housekeeper.’

‘Sounds all right to me.’ Mel grinned.

Scarlett shook her head. ‘Having or not having kids wasn’t my only reason for turning him down. It just didn’t feel right. It was more than just his desire to have a family. When he proposed it should have felt like a moment I’d been waiting for my whole life, but I remembered being more excited about getting accepted into my anaesthetics specialty than receiving a marriage proposal, and surely that’s wrong. My heart was racing, but not with excitement, I think it was panic. There was no impending sense that this was the next stage of my life and I couldn’t wait for it to get started. I could have married him but it would have been for the wrong reasons. At the end of the day, I didn’t love him enough.’

She also knew that she’d been scared. Terrified even. She didn’t want to have children with someone so much older and who had heart problems. What if he died and left her a single mother? That was exactly what had happened to her own mother and it was not what she wanted in her own future. She didn’t love Richard enough to take that chance. It was easier to let him go.

She had thought Richard would be a safe choice, she’d thought he wanted the same things as her. She’d thought his focus was on his career and that because he was already in his forties he wouldn’t want children. Wouldn’t he have had them by now if that was the case? But when things had turned out differently from what she’d expected, she’d discovered that she didn’t love him enough to change her mind. She didn’t love him enough to risk everything she’d worked for.

‘So that’s it. All over?’

‘It’s the right decision. I know it is. I’m not even sure he loves me either. I think a lot of his plan for the future was driven by timing and circumstances and not so much by his love for me. He had never mentioned wanting children before his heart attack. I think he’d be marrying me for the wrong reasons too.’

Scarlett picked up her cocktail glass. The wait staff was well trained and had obviously been told to make the most of the break in the entertainment to keep the drinks coming. No sooner had one jug been emptied than another was delivered. Scarlett sipped her drink. She didn’t really need more but she wanted to let the alcohol numb her a little bit. She didn’t want to spend the night thinking about Richard. That chapter of her life was over and she wasn’t planning on having any regrets.

She’d been working and studying hard since she was sixteen and she had a few more years to go. She wanted to finish her studies and she wanted time to enjoy the fruits of her labour. She didn’t want to be tied down at the moment. Surely that was a sign she wasn’t ready for marriage. Surely that was a sign that it was time to have some fun.

‘Let’s talk about something else. I’m moving forward with my life, starting tonight.’

She looked around at all the women who were getting into the spirit of the evening, not just at Candice’s table but throughout the room. She got the feeling she could let her hair down and not be judged. There was a sense of what happened in the strip club stayed in the strip club feel to the night. Maybe it was the effect of the green cocktails but Scarlett decided it was time to join the party.

Another round of cocktails had just been brought to their table and this time it was Scarlett who refilled their glasses before she turned her attention to the entertainment. Another set had just begun and the stripper on stage was young and athletic and, in her uneducated opinion, very good at his job. She felt slightly uncomfortable appreciating the ‘talent’ of the much younger men on stage but considering she was hardly the oldest female in the room, and she was certainly not the loudest in voicing her appreciation, she decided she would be rude not to enjoy the show.

By the time the set came to a close the green hue of the drink was starting to make her feel a bit nauseous. She wasn’t used to drinking much, her job didn’t really allow for it, and she knew if she didn’t make sure to drink some water she’d regret it in the morning.

‘I think I need something other than alcohol,’ she told Mel. ‘I’m going to the bar. Do you want anything?’

Mel shook her head as Scarlett pushed her chair back and stood up, pleased to find she could feel her toes again after resting her feet. She picked her way through the tables, dodging the good-looking, scantily clad waiting staff. She didn’t want to make eye contact with them but there didn’t seem to be any other polite place to look as she made her way across the room.

The bar staff was all cut from the same cloth as the waiters. They were all men, all shirtless and all cute. Not one of them had any chest hair or any body fat. They were all waxed and tanned and gorgeous and Scarlett gave them each a quick once-over before they had time to notice her.

The barman closest to her was slicing lemons. He was about three feet away and standing in profile to her. He had a sculpted jaw, small ears and brown hair, cut shorter at the sides and longer on top, that he’d obviously run some product through with his fingers to keep it spiked up. The deejay was playing a faster-tempo dance number now and all the barmen were moving to the music. Nothing choreographed, their movements looked natural and Scarlett wondered if they even knew they were dancing. She watched his hips as he kept time to the beat. His abdominal muscles flexed as he twisted to reach another lemon, drawing her attention away from his butt. His skin was smooth and tanned and his triceps tensed as he slid the knife through the flesh.

He finished dissecting the last lemon and scraped the slices into a bowl, using the back of the knife. He slid the cutting board into a sink as he twirled the knife through his fingers. Scarlett held her breath and watched as the light reflected off the blade. She gasped as he lost control of the knife and it left his hand and spun through the air. She watched it fall and waited for it to hit the floor, waited for it to stab into something it shouldn’t.

It landed on the floor behind the barman, where it lay innocuously on the rubber matting. No harm, no foul, but he’d heard her gasp and before he retrieved the knife he turned to look at her. He grinned. A cheeky, quick smile that lit up his face and made Scarlett think he made a habit of mucking around and that he didn’t mind getting caught.

He held her gaze and winked at her. Scarlett blushed and quickly broke eye contact but when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him turn around to pick up the knife she automatically went back for a second look. His jeans had stretched firmly across his butt and Scarlett couldn’t help but admire him. His buttocks were round and firm and the denim of his pants moulded perfectly to his backside.

She was still looking as he stood up and turned to face her, catching her by surprise. Her blush deepened and she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t been checking him out but luckily he didn’t seem offended if his broad grin was anything to go by. He didn’t seem to mind being stared at but, then, why should he? He was gorgeous and probably very used to it. She didn’t imagine she was the first woman to have been caught perving on him.

He ran the knife under hot water and put it to one side. He grabbed a tea towel to dry his hands and then tucked the towel into the waistband of his jeans. Scarlett’s eyes followed his movements. His jeans were loose at his hips and as he shoved the tea towel under his waistband the movement pushed his jeans even lower, giving her a glimpse of the diagonal line of his inguinal ligament. When she realised what she was doing she quickly raised her eyes, only to find he was still watching her.

He took three steps and came to a stop in front of her. He was still grinning and Scarlett was flustered, unsettled and unsure where to look.

‘What can I get you?’ he asked.

His voice was deep but quiet and she found herself leaning towards him as she tried to hear what he was saying. They were separated only by a few inches now and his features came into sharp relief, almost as though he’d been projected onto a glass pane in front of her. His green eyes were deep set and as he looked at her it seemed he could see what she was thinking.

His bottom lip was full even while he was smiling and his nose was perfectly straight, flaring slightly at the bottom into a small triangle. His chin and jaw were shaped like the bottom of a flawlessly proportioned pentagon and the angles of his face gave him an almost perfectly symmetrical appearance. His tanned shoulders were dusted with freckles and his jaw was lightly stubbled, and at close range he looked older than she’d first thought. But he was still young, mid-twenties maybe, definitely younger than her. Not that his age mattered. Sure, he was cute and his body was divine and he certainly looked like he would know how to show a woman a good time, but it was irrelevant to her.

Sexy young strip-club barmen were not her thing, even if they did have the ability to disconnect her brain and make her struggle to speak. He was waiting patiently for her answer and if he could read her thoughts, as she suspected, he was no doubt amused by her lack of reply.

‘May I have a glass of water, please?’ she managed to ask, just as if it looked like he was about to repeat his question.

Her words sounded strange and she could feel her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth but she wasn’t a hundred per cent sure it was from the alcohol. It could also be because of the half-naked man standing in front of her. She’d seen plenty of naked or semi-naked bodies before but it wasn’t every day that one as fine as this appeared before her. Was it any wonder she was struggling to think clearly, let alone speak?

He turned and scooped ice into a glass with his left hand and Scarlett caught a glimpse of a tattoo on the inside of his left biceps, several inky black marks making a dark impression against his skin. He turned to pick up a slice of lemon from the bowl he’d just filled, obscuring his tattoo from view. He dropped the lemon onto the ice and grinned at her as it hit the cubes. His hips kept time with the music as he filled the glass with water and Scarlett’s stomach did a peculiar flip as she watched. He looked completely comfortable in his skin and there was something very sensual about his movements.

‘Anything else I can do for you?’ he asked, as he placed the glass on the bar. His eyes swept over her face, from her eyes to her lips and down to her chest as he spoke to her. Scarlett knew the neck on her dress was high enough that there was no hint of cleavage but she blushed as if she was the one standing there half-naked, not him. His swift gaze was practised, she had no doubt he had plenty of experience at giving women a quick once over, but even she could see the appreciation in his eyes. She could feel her pulse beating between her thighs, and she could feel it getting stronger as the heat in his gaze intensified.

She swallowed and reached for the glass, only to find he hadn’t let go of it yet. Her fingers touched his and a surge of electricity shot through her. She snatched her hand back as if the glass was hot instead of filled with ice-cold water.

He was smiling at her again as he pushed the glass closer before removing his hand. His green eyes laughed at her but not unkindly as he asked, ‘First time?’

She looked at him in mute surprise. There was no room in her head for conversation as unfamiliar hormones ran rampant through her bloodstream.

‘I’d remember if I’d seen you before,’ he added, and Scarlett wondered if the bar staff relied on tips. That would explain why he was being so friendly.

But water was free, wasn’t it? There was no need to tip and, therefore, no need for him to flirt with her. She’d never had a stranger flirt with her. She wasn’t really the type. She knew it was because she never encouraged eye contact, she didn’t have the knack of catching or holding someone’s attention. She knew the barman had only noticed her because she’d gasped when he’d dropped the knife and she was positive he was only flirting with her out of habit.

She glanced around, partly to confirm that he was actually talking to her and partly to see if anyone was paying them any attention. The bar area wasn’t busy; most of the women seemed happy to utilise the club’s table service and let the shirtless waiters come to them. The focus of the room was the stage and the tables were set facing that way, which meant most of the women had their backs to the bar. No one was looking at her. No one except the hot barman.

She wasn’t sure what she should do in this situation but, since no one was watching her and to ignore him would be rude, she smiled back. ‘You have women who come here often enough that you can recognise them?’

‘Believe it or not, we get a lot of regulars. Birthday parties and hen’s nights are good for repeat business. We’ve even had repeat customers who hold divorce parties.’

‘Divorce parties?’

‘The club owner thinks divorcees are an untapped market. Cashed-up women looking for some fun.’ He shrugged his smooth, sculpted shoulders. ‘He’s right and they do seem to enjoy themselves but I take it that’s not why you’re here?’

She shook her head and replied. ‘Hen’s night.’

Her eyes flicked across the room to the group she’d come with. No one seemed to have missed her and while she felt as though time was standing still she’d probably only been gone from the table for a few minutes.

As she scanned the room the stage lights came on and started pulsating. The deejay started spinning a eighties disco number and the dance floor cleared as everyone made their way back to their seats and focussed their attention on the front of the room as the next act, an athletic stripper in a sailor’s outfit, took to the stage. Scarlett could see the stage from the bar. It was in the club’s interest to make sure all patrons had a good view, but she wasn’t in any hurry to return to her seat, she was more than happy with the view she had here. She checked again but it seemed as though her absence wasn’t being noted. She guessed her company couldn’t compete with a semi-naked man gyrating on a stage.

‘You’re with Candice?’ he asked. Apparently he had followed her line of sight.

Scarlett’s eyes shot back. ‘You know her?’ she asked, as she remembered that Candice had known someone who worked here. Was this him?

‘We’re old family friends,’ he explained. He pulled the tea towel from the waistband of his jeans and began wiping the bar. It was already spotless and Scarlett wondered if it was a delaying tactic. Was he delaying so he could talk to her? A warm glow spread through her. She couldn’t deny she was enjoying the attention. ‘Do the two of you work together?’ he asked.

Scarlett nodded.

‘Are you a nurse too?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m a doctor.’

Her answer surprised him. He’d thought he was a good judge of character and while he didn’t think she looked like a nurse she looked even less like a doctor. Her neck was long and slender, her face a perfect oval. Her lips were full and pouty, shiny with a pale pink gloss. In contrast, her eyes were dark and mesmerising. Outlined with kohl, the lids dusted with dark eye shadow and her lashes coated with mascara, her eyes looked as though they could have a thousand secrets hidden in their depths.

Her hair, a brown so deep it was almost black, was thick and she’d pulled it back into a bun at the nape of her neck. His fingers itched to reach across the bar and pull the pins out, to let her hair cascade over her shoulders.

He realised it was the bun that had thrown his judgement off. It was far too severe for her stunning features and gave her the appearance of someone who worked in administration. All she needed to complete the look was a pair of glasses.

On the surface she looked like organised efficiency but his imagination suggested that underneath the surface was a different story. Perhaps he’d been working at the club for too long, he thought as his mind wandered. Maybe he was having difficulty separating fact from fiction, reality from fantasy.

‘What’s so funny?’ she asked.

He shook his head as he realised he was smiling. ‘Nothing.’ She was a doctor who worked with Candice. It wasn’t funny, it was perfect, but the story would keep for another day. ‘I’d better get back to work. Tell Candice I’ll come over later and say hi.’

He watched as she left the bar and crossed the room to return to her table. He wasn’t in a hurry to get back to work—checking her out was far more interesting. Her body was smoking hot. She had poured it into a simple black dress—round neck, sleeveless, zipped down the back. He wondered if she was trying to disguise her assets, but the sway of her hips drew his attention to her narrow waist and round bottom. He was enjoying watching her walk away.

Her dress stopped just above her knees and his eyes travelled lower. Her legs were bare, no stockings, and her calves were pale, her ankles slender. She was wearing heels, ridiculously high heels, which might explain the sexy sway of her hips. He just had time to notice her shoes had a leopardskin pattern before she slid into her seat at the end of the catwalk and the stage hid her legs from view.

He was fascinated. Her swollen lips, mysterious eyes, generous D bust and her unexpected shoes all contrasted sharply with her no-nonsense hairstyle and plain dress. She was a bombshell disguised as a secretary. Which part of her was real? Was she even aware of the bombshell? Was her outfit smoke and mirrors or did she really not know how hot she was? Did she ever let the bombshell out and how could he arrange to be there if she did?

By the time she sat down at her table, Evan, the sailor stripper, had been replaced by Caesar, a muscular man of Fijian descent, who was clad only in a loincloth. The guys were warming the crowd up again with their routines. As Jake mixed a fresh batch of cocktails Caesar backflipped off the catwalk and began dancing through the crowd, looking for a willing participant for his act. Jake watched Candice’s friend as he measured and poured. He could see she was trying to avoid eye contact with Caesar, desperate not to be picked and dragged into the spotlight. Just watching her made him grin. She was definitely a club virgin.

He watched as she dipped her head to the side, bringing him into her line of sight. She saw him watching her, a reversal of their earlier roles, but not one to be embarrassed at being caught out, he gave her another wink.

Scarlett felt herself blush again. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she keep her eyes to herself? Why did she keep seeking him out? She’d just turned down a marriage proposal and yet her head was full of lustful thoughts about a complete stranger.

She tried to focus instead on the dancer, stripper—she wasn’t sure what they called themselves—only to find that his act was finishing and his spot was being taken by another man, slightly older than the others but just as buff and tanned, who wore tight black leather pants and nothing else. He held a microphone and greeted the audience in a loud, showman’s voice, ‘Good evening, chicks, and welcome to The Coop.’

‘Good evening, Rooster!’ A chorus of women’s voices split the air as the majority of the audience called out a greeting in return.

‘Listen up, ladies, the Himbo Limbo is about to begin. Choose your competitor and send them to me,’ he said, as he spread his arms wide in an expansive, all-encompassing gesture that made the muscles on his chest and arms ripple.

‘I nominate Scarlett!’ Candice shouted, as she bounced in her chair.

Scarlett frowned. She had no idea who this Rooster character was or what he was talking about. ‘What on earth is a Himbo Limbo?’ she asked.




CHAPTER TWO (#u7bf07958-3bd1-5280-be5d-5df168839a2c)


‘IT’S JUST A limbo competition,’ Candice told her, ‘with a twist.’

Scarlett felt her antennae twitch. She could sense a disaster in the making or at the very least some embarrassment. ‘What sort of twist?’

‘The “Himbo” part refers to two strippers. Instead of using poles, the Himbos hold the rope,’ Candice explained.

That didn’t sound nearly as risqué as Scarlett’s imagination had led her to envisage but she couldn’t understand why Candice was sending her up if it was all so tame. ‘Why don’t you do it?’ she asked, as Rooster called for the nominated hens or chicks to come forward.

‘You do yoga, you should be flexible,’ Candice replied, ‘and, besides, I can’t limbo in this skirt, it doesn’t leave much to the imagination when I’m standing up straight, let alone if I’m horizontal.’

Scarlett couldn’t argue with that, Candice’s skirt was incredibly short. She didn’t know if she was any more suitably attired, her little black dress was hardly limboappropriate, but regular yoga classes meant she was reasonably flexible so maybe it wouldn’t be all bad. She hadn’t expected games but it was highly likely there would be more embarrassing contests to come and this sounded like it could be one of the lesser evils.

She glanced around the room. Most of the tables seemed to be nominating a participant, although the majority seemed to be brides-to-be, not ‘chicks’. She finally clicked why the club was named The Coop—it was full of hens and chicks and one very loud and proud Rooster.

‘C’mon, Scarlett, do it for me, it’ll be fun,’ Candice pleaded.

Scarlett thought it would be about as much fun as getting her legs waxed but she wasn’t sure how she could get out of it. It was unlike her to put herself in the spotlight but as the girls continued to egg her on she found herself giving in. Maybe she’d had one too many cocktails, she thought as she said, ‘All right, I’ll do it.’

Just as she stood up the two ‘Himbos’ appeared front and centre on the floor beside the catwalk. Scarlett breathed a sigh of relief. At least it seemed as though she wouldn’t have to actually get up on the stage. The men were both very toned, no surprises there, and dressed in what could only be described as very tiny, very snug leather shorts. Scarlett thought one of the men was the stripper who had just finished his routine. He had swapped his loincloth for white shorts, which were a sharp contrast to his dark skin but left nothing to the imagination.

The other ‘Himbo’ was in a pair of slightly more respectable black leather shorts. Scarlett had never thought she’d consider men wearing tiny leather shorts ‘respectable’ but it seemed as though there was a fair bit about tonight that was going to challenge her traditional and conservative views.

Just when she thought it was safe to join in, the Himbos sprang up onto the stage and Rooster called to the girls, ‘Okay, hens and chicks, make your way up to me.’

A spotlight swept the room and came to rest on the gaggle of women gathered by the stage before it moved to illuminate a short flight of stairs leading up onto the catwalk. Scarlett was horrified to realise they were expected on the stage after all but slightly mollified by the sight of the stairs. It was a relief to know they weren’t expected to spring onto the stage in the Himbos’ footsteps—she certainly wouldn’t be springing anywhere in her borrowed platform heels.

The women made a beeline for the steps, eager to get the competition under way, as Scarlett held back. The steps had no railing and she didn’t want to get jostled and go sprawling up the stairs in front of everyone. She was going to be embarrassed soon enough just doing the limbo, she didn’t need to start by making a complete fool out of herself.

The women clustered around the Himbos as the deejay played dance music. The women and the Himbos were all dancing, with the exception of Scarlett, who tried her best to blend into the background behind the others, although that was hard to do given she was almost five feet eleven inches tall in her five-inch heels. Fortunately Rooster began to introduce the Himbos to the audience, which Scarlett took to mean that the contest would be starting soon and she wouldn’t have to be embarrassed for too much longer. The Fijian stripper in the short white shorts, Caesar, was introduced first, followed by Rico, who was introduced as the ‘Italian Stallion’. The audience cheered and clapped as the Himbos took their places.

‘And now I’d like to introduce our judge for this evening,’ Rooster crowed, somehow managing, through sheer force of personality, to keep the attention on himself. ‘A favourite among the chicks, our very own Judge Jake.’

The cheers of the audience turned into wolf whistles and the noise in the club reached maximum volume as Candice’s friend, the barman Scarlett had been talking to earlier, came up onto the stage. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who thought he was delicious.

He had changed his outfit but Scarlett was happy to see he wasn’t wearing leather pants—she’d seen enough leather pants tonight to last her a lifetime. He’d changed from regular denim jeans into a black pair, which hugged his thighs. His chest was still bare and he had a length of rope looped over one shoulder and slung across his torso. He jogged across the stage, moving lightly and waving to his adoring audience, and Scarlett’s level of embarrassment increased with every step he took towards her. It was too late to back out now but she wished the stage would open up and swallow her. She tried in vain to hide, even though she knew it was futile. He was going to see her standing there sooner or later.

Caesar and Rico had stepped in front of the women, creating some space, and Jake passed them each a black strap, which they fixed around their chests. At the front of the strap, positioned over their sternums, was a hook that looked like a mountaineering karabiner. Jake hoisted the rope from his shoulder and handed it to the Himbos. At each end of the rope was a small metal loop, which Caesar and Rico clipped into the karabiners.

Scarlett’s eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t expected the rope to be tied around their chests, she’d expected them to hold it, stretched out between them. That would have given the competitors plenty of space to move but once the rope was tied around their chests and clipped into the karabiners it was quite short and didn’t leave a lot of room to manoeuvre. Not, Scarlett thought, that most of the girls would mind, but she had no intention of brushing against half-naked strangers any more than she had to.

Jake waited until the limbo rope was in position before taking the microphone from Rooster and taking over the contest. The girls were asked to line up and after much jostling Scarlett found herself third in line behind two hens, one rather large one and one with an exceptionally long veil. Judge Jake approached each competitor in turn and asked them their name. He showed no surprise when he got to Scarlett and she knew then he’d already seen her on the stage. She just hoped he didn’t think she’d volunteered.

Even in her heels she was still an inch or two shorter than him, and she had to look up slightly when she told him her name. Up close she could see that his green eyes were ringed with brown and he winked at her as he repeated her name and Scarlett felt her cheeks redden. She hoped the tell-tale blush wouldn’t be noticeable but she suspected the spotlight would only serve to enhance the colour in her face.

With much cheering and clapping from the audience Jake got the contest under way. The plump hen went first and she could almost walk under the rope without ducking, she was so short. The next hen, the one with the long veil, wasn’t so lucky. She trod on her veil as she tipped her head backwards to duck under the rope. This pulled her up short and made her fall and she landed hard on her backside. Her faux pas was greeted with laughter from the audience, though not cruel or nasty laughter. Scarlett knew most of them would be laughing with relief that they weren’t the ones lying flat on their backs in front of a crowd.

She couldn’t work out how the hen had managed to trip herself up but as she was sprawled on the floor and Jake was reaching for her hand to help her to her feet Scarlett just prayed that she wouldn’t be as unlucky or as ungainly. She was next in line.

‘How confident are you?’ Jake asked her, as she moved a step closer.

Scarlett looked at the girls around her, including the one already disqualified. ‘I’ve done a few limbos in my time,’ she fibbed. ‘I think I can take this one.’ Her knees felt weak and she wondered how she was going to manage to limbo on wobbly legs but her voice sounded surprisingly normal and strong.

She wasn’t sure why she’d chosen to announce her lies to the room; she could only assume it had something to do with the challenge in Jake’s eyes. She didn’t want to look like a complete klutz in front of him but neither did she want to appear timid and pathetic. She didn’t normally think of herself as a competitive, win-at-all-costs type of person but she didn’t like to fail at anything. She had high expectations of herself and she certainly didn’t want to be beaten by these women.

Jake laughed and announced, ‘Scarlett Take-No- Prisoners, who is standing in for her hen, Candice, let’s see what you’ve got.’

The girls on her table whooped and cheered as Scarlett easily limboed under the rope and popped up on the other side.

After Scarlett were another six competitors, four hens, one with a rather heavy, awkward-looking tiara holding her veil in place, and two chicks. Two more fell on the first attempt and Scarlett thought the success rate was probably indirectly proportionate to the amount each ‘chick’ had had to drink.

As the contest continued and the number of competitors dropped, so did the height of the rope. As the rope descended the Himbos shortened it too, bringing them even closer together and giving the chicks less margin for error. Another two stumbled and were eliminated as the rope was lowered to the bottom of the Himbos’ rib cages.

The girls were being urged on by their friends but despite the encouragement all but two were out of the competition after attempting to limbo under the rope when it was level with the Himbos’ waists. By the time the rope was moved further south to their hips Scarlett’s until-now-unknown competitive streak had well and truly emerged and she had no intention of losing tonight. It was now a two-chick race between her and a girl named Tracey and it was Scarlett’s turn.

Scarlett sized up the competition. Tracey was several inches shorter than her so Scarlett slid her platform heels from her feet to level the playing field. The rope was very low now and she didn’t need to make this any harder than it already was.

‘Watch out, Tracey.’ Jake laughed. ‘The competition is getting serious, clothing is being shed. What else is coming off, Scarlett?’

His green eyes were challenging her again and something in his expression made her want to challenge him back. ‘Nothing yet,’ she quipped, and was rewarded with a brief spark of something—maybe attraction, maybe anticipation, she wasn’t sure—but there was definitely a light in his eyes. She turned her back, wanting to leave him hanging, and shimmied under the rope. She just managed to scrape under without over-balancing.

Jake had stepped around to the other side of the Himbos and was there to take her hand as she straightened. He kept his elbow bent, which kept her close, and his hand warmed her skin where it wrapped around her fingers. He smelt clean, as if he was freshly showered but she knew that couldn’t be the case. He smelt good.

She could feel the heat coming off his half-naked body and she knew the skin on his chest would feel as warm and soft as his hand. Scarlett’s stomach trembled as Jake continued to hold her hand as they waited for Tracey to take her turn at the limbo. Her body was tingling as Jake’s touch awakened her senses and she could feel the pulse low in her belly starting to beat a little bit faster.

Scarlett knew she could pull her hand out of Jake’s grasp but she didn’t want to. This connection would be severed soon enough and she wanted to enjoy it while it lasted. They watched as Tracey almost made it under the rope before falling at the last hurdle, putting her hand on the ground just before she was ready to stand and thereby disqualifying herself.

Jake let go of Scarlett to help Tracey to her feet. ‘I’m sorry, Tracey, you almost did it,’ he said as he helped her up, before turning back to Scarlett. ‘That makes you our winner tonight.’ His smile lit up his green eyes as he added, ‘Would you like to see how low you can go?’

Scarlett watched as Caesar and Rico moved the rope down another couple of inches until it was sitting across their groins. She looked back at Jake. He was now grinning mischievously and she knew he was waiting to see if she was up to the next challenge. She shook her head. She’d let him win this round. ‘I’m done.’

‘All right, here’s your prize.’ Jake reached his left hand behind him and when he brought it forward again he had a handful of fake money that he must have had stashed in his pocket. Scarlett frowned. What was she supposed to do with fake dollar bills?

He held the notes up in the air and Scarlett got another glimpse of the tattoo on the soft side of his arm. At close range she could see that the inky black marks were stars, five of them in total, their arrangement making a pattern that was familiar to every Australian. He had the Southern Cross constellation tattooed on his skin.

Jake kept his arm held high as he turned through one hundred and eighty degrees, showing the fake money to the crowd, who cheered as he called out, ‘Tipping dollars!’

‘Tipping dollars?’ Scarlett repeated. She had no idea what he was talking about.

Jake lowered the microphone and leant in close as he pressed the fake banknotes into her hand. ‘It’s to tip the dancers,’ he explained. ‘Tuck some into the guys’ shorts before you leave the stage and share the rest with your group for them to use later.’

The crowd applauded and cheered again as she tipped the Himbos while Jake escorted Tracey from the stage, but before she could follow the crowd began to chant, ‘Jake, Jake, Jake!’ and she knew she was expected to tip him too. She wasn’t certain but she thought Candice might have been leading the call.

Jake was back by her side again. He didn’t seem surprised or reticent and she suspected he loved the attention. She’d bet his star sign was Leo. They loved the limelight. She tucked a few notes into his waistband and as her fingers brushed against his hipbone she found herself searching his skin for more tattoos. But the skin of his torso and waist was smooth, tanned and ink-free. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she could feel a blush stealing across her cheeks. Somehow touching Jake felt a lot more personal than when she’d been tipping Caesar and Rico.

With shaky hands she picked up her shoes and fled the stage, retreating to the relative safety of her table.

‘That was a side of you I hadn’t seen before,’ Mel said as she sat down.

‘And don’t expect to see it again any time soon,’ Scarlett replied. Her heart was still racing, making her sound breathless. She hoped everyone would think it was from the exertion of the limbo, although she knew it was a reaction to Jake.

Performing in front of a crowd was completely out of character for her but part of her had enjoyed the chance to pretend to be someone else, someone less worried about behaving appropriately and less concerned about being who people expected her to be. Perhaps it was a case of ‘anything goes’ tonight or maybe normal inappropriate behaviour was considered appropriate within the four walls of The Coop, but she didn’t have time to consider it any further as Mel interrupted her musings.

‘I thought it was rather entertaining. But, tell me, who is Judge Jake and how does he know Candice?’ Mel asked, as Scarlett handed the remaining tipping dollars to Candice.

‘We’re old family friends,’ Candice interrupted. ‘He’s coming over now, I’ll introduce you.’

Scarlett turned her head. Sure enough, Jake was approaching their table. He was no longer bare-chested, he’d put on a black T-shirt and a black leather jacket but, if anything, he looked even better. No, not better, she thought, but just as good.

Candice made quick introductions before Jake grabbed an empty chair from the table beside theirs. He flipped it around with a practised move and wedged it in between Scarlett and Mel before straddling it backwards. His long legs stuck out sideways and brushed against Scarlett’s thigh.

‘So you do own a shirt,’ Scarlett said, as her eyes raked his torso.

‘And a jacket,’ he teased.

He was leaning forward over the back of the chair, his arms crossed. The teasing note in his voice and the gleam in his eye made her feel bold. She reached out and ran her hand down his sleeve. ‘There’s a definite leather theme going on in this place.’

‘Hey,’ he said, as he sat up straight in the chair, held the jacket on each side of the zip and lifted it slightly, adjusting it on his shoulders, ‘this is mine.’

‘It’s nice.’ It was. She could smell the leathery fragrance. She hadn’t noticed a leather smell on the Himbos, not that she’d got that close to their shorts.

‘Yeah?’

She grinned, feeling more at ease. It was much less stressful now she was out of the spotlight and off the stage. ‘Much better than leather pants.’

‘Have you ever worn leather pants?’

Scarlett shook her head.

‘Well, you should give them a go, you might be surprised at how comfortable they are.’

‘You have leather pants too?’

He raised one hand. ‘Guilty as charged. Call it part of our uniform. But you might be pleased to know I don’t own leather shorts.’

‘That’s a relief,’ she said, but, as much as she thought leather was being worn a little too often around the club, she suspected he would look rather good in leather pants. She suspected he’d look good in anything.

He shifted in his seat and his thigh brushed against hers for the second time. Her nerve endings sparked and it felt as if all the cells in her thigh muscles were straining to get closer to him, as though they were trying to leap out of her skin. She moved her leg away from his before she could be tempted to lean into him instead.

The alcohol she’d drunk tonight had most certainly reduced her inhibitions. Not only had she voluntarily got up on stage, she was now having lustful thoughts about a complete stranger. She was planning on having fun but she wasn’t sure if her courage stretched far enough to include Jake. She should go home before she did something even more out of character. Before she could be tempted by a cute young barman who might, or might not, be flirting with her. There was no way she was going to make a move on him, well, not the first move anyway. She needed to get out of here. If he wanted to come with her that was his choice. If he chose to stay behind then she’d assume she’d read the signals wrong. There was a good possibility of that, she thought. She was hardly the most experienced woman at the table.

She’d done her duty to Candice. Surely she could leave now without appearing rude. She leant across the table to speak to Candice, ready to make her excuses. ‘I think I might head off, if you don’t mind. I had a really busy night on call before working today.’

‘How are you getting home?’

‘I’ll take a cab.’

‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Mel asked. ‘You shouldn’t go on your own.’ Hindley Street was not the street you wanted to walk down alone.

‘I’ll wait with you, if you like,’ Jake said to her. ‘I’ve finished my shift and was about to go anyway.’

‘Perfect! Thanks, Jake.’ Candice agreed on Scarlett’s behalf without any hesitation. ‘That way, Mel can stay and enjoy the rest of the evening. You don’t mind, do you?’ Candice asked, as she looked at her.

Scarlett didn’t want to be accused of breaking up the party so she did what came naturally to her and agreed. ‘Sure,’ she replied. She’d had a lifetime of experience at being the one to keep the peace, being the one to do what everyone expected of her while her sisters did as they pleased, so of course she agreed, but it didn’t hurt that she was more than happy for Jake to keep her company. She knew then that his touch had been deliberate and the thought sent a frisson of excitement through her body.

‘Jake is one of the good guys, you can trust him,’ Candice added, before she turned to Mel and whispered with a chuckle, ‘I’m not denying he could charm a nun out of her habit but that’s Scarlett’s good fortune.’

As Scarlett ducked her head under the table to put her shoes back on and search for her handbag she heard Candice say something about charm but she couldn’t catch the whole sentence. She thought about asking her to repeat her comment but when she found her handbag and looked up she saw that Jake was standing, ready to pull out her chair for her. Not wanting to keep him waiting, she decided that if what Candice had said was important she’d find out some other time.

She followed Jake from the club, aware of several women checking him out as he passed their tables, but their attention was short-lived as another dancer was on the stage and now that Jake was fully clothed there were obviously more interesting things to look at elsewhere. Scarlett didn’t mind, she was happy to have him all to herself.

There was a taxi rank opposite the club but the queue was horrendously long, stretching for half a block. Knowing it could take for ever for her turn to come, she released Jake from his obligation. ‘It’s going to take ages, you don’t need to wait,’ she said, as they joined the end of the queue.

‘I promised Candice I’d look after you.’

‘That’s okay, I won’t tell her.’ She smiled. ‘Thank you for offering but it’s busy enough. I’ll be all right,’ she said, as she slipped her shoes off. Her feet had had enough and she couldn’t stand the thought of another minute standing in uncomfortable high heels. The concrete pavement was rough but cool under her skin and was soothing in an unexpected way. She glanced down the line and saw she wasn’t the only one who’d divested herself of her footwear.

‘Come on, I’ll give you a lift,’ he said, looking at her bare feet.

‘It’s fine, really,’ Scarlett insisted. ‘I’m just not used to wearing high heels.’

‘I’m not going to leave you here and I think we’ve both got better things to do than stand on the street for an hour.’

His tone wasn’t impatient. Maybe she was reading things into his words but the depth of his voice and the low volume made it sound as though the better things he had in mind involved them both and she was tempted to dive in, recklessly, heedlessly, and accept his offer. But her natural inclination not to cause trouble made her ask, ‘What if I live miles away?’

‘Then that’s my problem. I’m not going to retract my offer. I’d look like a jerk.’

She looked up at him. Barefoot, she was now several inches shorter than he was. ‘I’d hate to have that hanging over my head.’

‘So, can I drop you home?’ He grinned and all her objections, few though they were, vanished. She nodded and slipped her sandals back on before following him as he retraced their footsteps.

He led her to an alleyway behind The Coop and Scarlett followed blindly. She knew she would feel unsafe if he wasn’t beside her but even though he was virtually a stranger she trusted him. It was an odd situation to be in, she wasn’t normally a trusting person, particularly not when it came to men, but she only got good vibes from Jake and he wasn’t really a stranger, was he? He knew Candice.

He stopped beside a dark green convertible that had been parked behind a dumpster, which kept it partially shielded from view. The roof was down and there was a cumbersome, heavy steering lock clamped to the wheel.

Jake opened the passenger door and shrugged out of his leather jacket. ‘Here,’ he said, as he held it out to her. ‘It might be a bit cool with the top down but it’s a bit temperamental and it’ll be quicker and warmer if you wear this.’

Scarlett slipped her arms into the sleeves as Jake held it for her. His fingers brushed her neck as he turned up the collar. The jacket was much too large for her but it was warm and smelt divine, a heady combination of leather and clean male. She didn’t bother to zip it, just pulled it close, wrapping it around her like a cocoon.

She sank into the low seat as Jake stowed the steering lock behind them and started the engine. The sound was low and throaty and reminded her of his voice. Scarlett relaxed. She closed her eyes and let the warmth and scent of the leather of the seats and Jake’s jacket seduce her. It was nice to have someone else make a decision for her. Not being required to think was a novelty. All her life she had been the one people turned to for advice. She had been the one who everyone relied on to be sensible, responsible, to make the hard decisions, and Scarlett’s natural tendency was to carefully consider all angles before making an informed and logical choice.

Letting a stranger give her a lift home was not the sort of thing she did. She wasn’t a spontaneous sort of person. Every decision she made was carefully measured, considered and weighed before she acted on it. She was used to being in control. Of her life and of her actions.

Going home with someone she’d just met was the sort of thing her sister Ruby would do. Ruby would have set her sights on a guy the minute she walked into The Coop and wouldn’t have thought twice about letting them give her a lift home. Even their younger sister, Rose, was more outgoing than she herself was. She would have walked into The Coop, tossed her blond hair, batted her long eyelashes and her big blue eyes and within minutes she would have had men falling at her feet. She would have flirted expertly and at the end of the night she would have been spoilt for choice if she wanted a lift home.

Scarlett didn’t know if she could ever be as confident or as fearless as her sisters but it was kind of nice to step out of her comfort zone for a change. But she knew the only reason she felt safe to do that was because there was a connection with Jake. She wasn’t thinking about the physical or chemical connection she felt but rather the safer, more reliable one that was their common friend, Candice. Scarlett knew that no matter how gorgeous and charming a man was, she would never let a complete stranger give her a lift home. She just didn’t do things like that.

‘Scarlett?’

She jumped as she felt Jake’s hand on her knee. She opened her eyes to find they had left Hindley Street behind. The little green car was on the bridge over the River Torrens as Jake headed up Montefiore Hill.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked, and she realised he must have been speaking to her while she was daydreaming.

‘Yes. I’m fine.’

Jake flicked the indicator on to turn at the lookout at the top of the hill. She tried not to notice the cars parked there, certain that the occupants were up to no good as they looked across the city lights. She had never fooled around in the backseat of a car but sitting here with Jake’s hand still resting on her knee she could almost imagine what it would be like. But he removed his hand to negotiate the corner, leaving a cold circle the size of his palm on her skin. He drove past the old cathedral and up towards O’Connell Street.

‘Are you hungry?’ he asked, as the car idled at the next set of traffic lights.

‘I am,’ she said, as she rubbed at the cold spot on her knee. She was a little surprised to find she was hungry but dinner seemed like hours ago.

‘My favourite late-night take-away is just up here. We can grab something to eat there, if you like?’

‘Sure.’ She thought it was probably a good idea to eat something else and soak up the rest of the alcohol she’d consumed but where they ate was another decision she was happy to let Jake make.

Jake slowed his sports car as they approached the café strip and he searched for a parking space. A car was pulling out from the kerb and he waited, taking the spot in front of a café with distinctive blue-and-white signage. She recognised the café; she’d walked past it plenty of times but had never been inside, but it seemed that Jake knew it well.

‘Jake, how’s it going?’ The guy behind the counter greeted him as they walked in. ‘What’ll you have, the usual?’

‘Sounds good,’ he said, before explaining to Scarlett, ‘You can’t go past George’s lamb yiros,’ he told her.

There was a huge selection of dishes written on the blackboard above the counter but Scarlett could see the lamb revolving slowly on the enormous spit, cooking as it turned, and the smell carried to her. It smelt fantastic. She’d never tried a yiros before but it was an easy decision. She nodded. ‘Make that two,’ she told George.

‘You want garlic sauce with that?’ George asked.

That sounded rather potent and Scarlett wasn’t at all familiar with yiros etiquette. Jake was watching her, his head tipped to one side, waiting for her answer. She didn’t want to be in close proximity to him if she had garlic sauce and he didn’t. Even in a convertible she suspected it could be unpleasant.

‘Is that how you usually have it?’ she asked Jake.

‘Yep.’

‘Okay, then.’ Scarlett watched as George expertly carved slices of lamb as it rotated on the spit and piled it onto flatbreads and garnished it with garlic sauce and salad before wrapping each yiros in wax paper and handing them over the counter. She followed Jake to a table tucked into the back corner of the café. All around them other patrons were devouring their yiros but from what she could see it was almost impossible to eat daintily. Worried about making a mess of Jake’s jacket, she slipped it off and hung it over the back of her chair.

‘Do you want to take your shoes off too?’ Jake was smiling at her.

She shook her head. ‘Not in here.’

‘You could take them off on the street, why not in here?’ he said, as he tore the wax paper to expose the top half of his yiros.

‘We’re in a restaurant. Earlier I couldn’t face the thought of standing any longer but I’m okay as long as I’m sitting down,’ Scarlett said, copying his actions.

‘I’ve never understood why women insist on buying uncomfortable shoes—although they do look great on you.’

‘Thank you.’ The compliment almost made the pain worthwhile. ‘But they’re not mine and I didn’t realise they were so uncomfortable. I borrowed them,’ she admitted. ‘Strip clubs aren’t really my scene and I don’t own anything suitable to wear to one.’ She took a bite of the warm flatbread. The lamb was tender and juicy, perfectly complemented by the sauce.

‘Going to the club doesn’t mean you need to dress like a stripper.’ He laughed.

She stuck one foot out from underneath the table, pointing her toes and swinging her foot from side to side. ‘You think these look like stripper shoes?’

Jake raised one eyebrow and grinned. ‘That wasn’t what I meant,’ he protested.

‘I wonder what my sister would have to say about that!’

Scarlett smiled back before taking another bite of her yiros, only to discover a fraction too late why she should have said no to the garlic sauce as it squirted out of the bread and ran down the side of her hand. She was holding the yiros with two hands, trying to stop it from falling apart, and there was nothing she could do about the sauce that was now running over her wrist and heading for her elbow.

Jake reached across and ran his finger along her forearm, wiping the sauce from her skin. He was watching her as he put his finger in his mouth and sucked the sauce from it and Scarlett felt as though he’d run his tongue along her bare skin. She could see the heat in his eyes and could still feel the heat from his finger as it sent a current shooting through her.

‘You’ve got sauce just here too,’ Jake said, and Scarlett held her breath as he stretched his hand out and wiped the side of her cheek. His thumb grazed the corner of her lip and Scarlett couldn’t help it—her lips parted under his touch and it was all she could do not to capture his thumb with her mouth. She inhaled deeply as Jake removed his hand and this time wiped his fingers on his serviette.

Despite the fact that they were sitting in a busy café, surrounded by other people, she was aware only of Jake. She ate the rest of her yiros in silence, acutely aware of him sitting opposite her, but somehow she managed to finish eating without any further mishap.

She felt the first wave of fatigue roll over her as she wiped a serviette over her lips and stifled a yawn.

‘Are you ready to go?’ Jake asked.

She was tired but in no hurry to get home. She was quite happy to sit for a bit longer in his company but she had no reason to delay. She stood as Jake picked his jacket up from her chair and slung it around her shoulders. He left his hand around her back, holding the jacket in place as he walked her to his car. Scarlett had to squeeze in close to him to manoeuvre between the tables and chairs and she could feel the length of his body where he pressed against her. The night air was cool on her skin when he released her to open the car door and she pulled his jacket more tightly around her to make up for the loss of warmth.

Within minutes she had directed Jake to her house. The night was over.

Almost.

Jake was out of the car and was walking her to her door.

‘Thanks for the lift,’ Scarlett said, as she unlocked her front door.

‘It was my pleasure.’ He was leaning on the doorjamb, watching her quietly.

‘And for supper,’ she added, reluctant for the evening to end.

Light spilled from the hallway and fell on Jake, illuminating him where he stood. She was in shadow but she could see Jake’s hand reaching towards her shoulder.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Something I’ve been wanting to do all night.’

He was leaning forward. Was he going to kiss her? His head was next to hers, his lips beside her ear, and his voice was quiet and deep. She could feel the gentle puff of his breath on her skin as he spoke and then she could feel his fingers in her hair as he pulled the end of her ponytail and untucked her hair from its bun. He pulled her hair forward and loosened it over her shoulders and his hands brushed her skin.

‘That’s much better.’

Scarlett turned her head and lifted it, just slightly, less than an inch, to look at him. He was still watching her and the way he looked at her made the heat pool low in her belly. She could feel a fluttering of nerves, a tremble in her stomach, but the nerves were anticipatory, not anxious. Jake’s green eyes were shining emerald in the light. His lips were millimetres from hers. He dipped his head into the shadow and closed the gap. His lips were warm and hungry, soft yet demanding. His body was lean and hard and his hands on her arms were firm but gentle. Scarlett pressed herself into him as two of them became one.

His hands slid behind her, cupping her bottom, holding her to him.

She wound her hands behind his head as her lips parted in response to the pressure of his tongue.

She was standing on her front porch, kissing a stranger, but he didn’t feel like a stranger. Scarlett felt as though she belonged with him, as though she’d known him always. Every cell in her body responded to his touch. Every part of her recognised him, as though they’d met before, and as she kissed him she felt as if she was reuniting with a lover, not making out with a stranger.

She brought her hands to his chest and placed them flat against his pectoral muscles. She grabbed a fistful of his T-shirt, bunching the fabric up in her palms, and dragged him out of the doorway and into her hall.

She should be saying good-night. She should be thanking him for the lift and saying goodbye but the look in his eye and the taste of his mouth had disengaged her brain and she couldn’t let him go. Not yet. She knew their first kiss was only a taste of what was to come.

She stepped to her right, towards her bedroom door, and her lips left Jake’s mouth. He was watching her closely, his green eyes intense, and she knew he was waiting to see what she would do next. She knew it was her decision now.

She pushed the front door closed and stepped backwards into her bedroom.

Jake didn’t wait for an invitation. He stepped towards her, following her lead. His hands were behind her back and she felt him slide the zip on the back of her dress down and her dress fell at her feet. She stepped out of it, naked except for her underwear and her borrowed heels.




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