The carriage went quiet as the song ended. She caught his eye. “Once more with feeling,” she mouthed. Sure enough, a half second later, it was all on. Again.
He laughed—and groaned—as everyone started in the main chorus. But then he stood. Strange, but she’d forgotten how tall he was. He towered, so much closer than before and she had to lift her chin to see him, promptly forgetting the lyrics she’d learned by osmosis. He put a hand to his chest, frowning as he opened his mouth to join in. She laughed. He actually looked self-conscious.
Suddenly, the train thrust forward, jerking them off their feet as it finally started again and immediately strained for top speed. Nina fell back, just managing to land in a sprawl in her seat, her butt hanging off the edge of it, her body almost horizontal. He didn’t have the same luck. She heard the rough yelp, saw his hands spread wide as he lost his balance and tripped over her legs—falling between them. Next thing he was on his knees in front of her.
Her heart bounced out of control. So did her mouth.
“You lie in my lap.” She misquoted some Shakespeare in amusement, not really for him to hear. Because yeah, her flirt was a lame, goofy, geek-fest that he’d never understand—but the desire was impossible to resist. Nor could she stop the smile bursting onto her face. With a guy this gorgeous on his knees at her feet, with his hands on the armrests on either side of her, his mouth inches from her thighs—it was a moment of sensual heaven.
Those startling blue eyes met hers, only now the blue was a thin ring around the swollen black pupils.
“‘My head upon your lap.’” He corrected swiftly, his accent intensifying the intimacy of the speech.
Stunned, she uttered the next line automatically. “‘Ay, my Lord.’”
“‘Do you think I mean country matters?’” he continued the quote softly, his face even closer to her legs, his words a whisper of wickedness that she read in his eyes as well.
Her body whooshed cold then hot and she sucked in a hit of burning air. That part so cunningly referred to in their quoted prose tightened—because yes, she had been thinking of c’untry matters. The play on words made that most private part clench in the desire she’d been failing to fully suppress since first seeing him. She couldn’t hold back her delighted laugh now, either. “You know your Shakespeare?”
“Hamlet, yes,” he confirmed, smiling as he moved to reclaim the seat beside her. “Doesn’t everyone?”
No. Not at all. She sat upright and tightly crossed her legs, gripping her upper thighs to still the rush of wet heat there. “Not everyone remembers that bit.”
“You do.” He laughed again—that warm, sexy, infectious sound. “Do you have other good quotes memorized?”
She turned to meet his gaze. His eyes gleamed like silver fire and oh boy, was she in trouble. He was gorgeous enough already—but that he could hold his own in the nerdy Shakespearean stakes?
“A few.” She answered audibly enough, but inside she was stunned at the flare emanating from him and ridiculously elated at their shared Shakespearean flirt.
Only then the train slowed—coming into her station. She stoutly took the blow. Of course, this would come to an end—only a passing meeting. Of course this was nothing.
She stood, but as the train shuddered to a halt, she swayed and quickly grabbed hold of the safety straps above her—no doubt giving him an eyeful of her tight, turned-on breasts. Damn instinctive body language, she might as well have all out preened. Still, all she could do now was attempt a sophisticated good-bye—not try to prolong the encounter, no, that would be desperate.
“I hope your evening goes better than you expect.” She walked to the door, conscious her hips were rolling with a hint of swagger but powerless to control it.
“Thanks,” he called after her. “You too.”
Nina smiled as she left the train, her battered ego boosted higher than it had been in months. She didn’t turn to see if he’d gotten off too. Single and staying that way, right? She’d had a second of flirt—one she’d never have expected, certainly not with him. She’d even managed a sassy good-bye. But a contrary flicker of disappointment snipped at her uplifted spirit, because all it had been—all it would ever be—was a moment.
…
Eduardo Ruiz suppressed the twitch in his muscles, forcing himself to walk slowly. Thank God the car hadn’t come for him today. Instead, he’d had the most fun in ages with the pretty brunette with a shockingly tuneless singing voice. Heaven knew he needed some light relief, and now she was walking right in front of him. As he tracked her progress, heat spread though his stomach, softening the stone-cold sensation pressing deep in his gut. Eye-candy didn’t usually ease that familiar ache, but this particular woman had the one thing slipping from Eduardo’s sphere—vitality.
The first time he’d seen her she’d been almost bouncing along the street, an effervescent smile lighting up her whole face—relentlessly drawing an answering smile from anyone who looked. And Eduardo had looked. Then he’d climbed into the car and smiled, his spirit lifting despite the heartache of his destination. But he’d noticed her artless energy had become increasingly leashed over the past few days. That unconscious reflection of joy muted by something. Until today—when he’d had the sheer dumb luck to be stuck on the train with her and those crazy singers. And finally that energy had shone again—her sparkle had bubbled over.
He reined in his own explosion of energy in order to keep a few paces behind, watching the sideways rock of her hips and the peachy jut of her butt beneath that slim gray skirt. The heat in his veins scalded him from the inside out. His attention lowered to her legs—finally having enough time to give them a proper look. They were bare, lightly summer bronzed, long and trim with narrow ankles. He curled his fingers, instinctively trying to ease the sudden itch as fantasy slugged him. He’d wrap his hands round those ankles and pull—so her thighs would part and she’d wind those long limbs around his waist and he’d be right inside that vivacious fire. Country matters called loud and strong.
Si, he was ogling and it was crass. It was also irresistible. Given where he was going now, and the dutiful torture he had to endure tonight, Eduardo needed a moment. So he was damn well going to enjoy it.
But after watching where she went, he lengthened his stride so he wouldn’t be any later than he already was. Out of the shopping mall and along the expensive dockside apartments—homes to men and women every bit as workaholic as he.
The evening ahead was family business and he couldn’t escape it. Nor could he escape the fact that he had no time to put into anything other than work this week, next week, or even the next year. Exactly how he liked it. There was no room for the relationship he’d foolishly invented in a flippant moment over the phone. No room for any kind of relationship—fictional or otherwise. He didn’t have the time or the heart to give.
But that pretty Canadian was leaving—off for an adventure. Therefore not looking for a relationship—not a week out from departure. Now temptation gnawed. The maddest of ideas tickled as urges drove his body. All he could hear was her low laughter as she’d quoted Shakespeare’s bawdy bits. He wanted her at his table. Honestly? He wanted her in his bed.
That was the only way his night was going to go better.
Chapter Two
“I need a new charm.”
A surprising number of shoppers were at the center on a Sunday. Then again, so many of the banking guys worked all weekend and they needed a little something to take home to the girlfriend to make it up to them. The female analysts generally shopped for a special something for themselves to celebrate their latest deal. And then there were the regulars like Stella, who came in and selected a bead as a reminder of something lurid she’d done the night before.
“It’s been what, a fortnight for you?” Nina immediately went to her locked cabinets—Stella spent.
“I’m very selective.” Stella answered archly.
“I know you are.”
“But I must confess,” Stella winked. “I need two.”
“You don’t,” Nina gaped, hol
ding the key mid-air as her forty-something favorite customer sashayed across the smooth wooden floor. “Really?”
“Really do,” Stella purred with a wink, her pink lipstick a wide slash as she smiled. “A very nice pair of beads, please. It’s your lucky day.”
Nina chuckled. She was paid on commission, so yes, she wanted to sell Stella another charm or two, but it was why Stella collected them that had her so tickled. “Did you want linked charms because you had them at the same time? Twins, perhaps?”
“I haven’t been that lucky yet.” Stella eyed the sparkling jewels with deliberate, discerning care. “And nor have you.” She turned a displeased glance at Nina’s bare arms. “You don’t wear one at all. That better not mean what I think it might.”
“We don’t all wear charms as momentoes of the men we’ve been with,” Nina said dryly. Her own chain would be pretty dismal if she did.
“You ought to start,” Stella said as she picked out two studded beads and held them up to the light to inspect them.
Nina laughed and shook her head. “I’m not collecting trophies yet.” She was in restorative mode still. But she liked Stella, and honestly, the moment this morning was too good not to share. “Though I did window shop this morning.”
“Really?” Stella spun around, impossibly perkier and all fox-eyes.
“Beautiful.” It was good to admit it to someone—given she’d spent two hours of her shift replaying the moment in her head. “Just—beautiful.”
“Where?”
“Would you believe the Tube?” Nina turned back to pull more trays from the drawer.
“Nina darling,” Stella said, drawling her disapproval. “The likelihood of seeing him again?”
“It might happen. We’re creatures of habit, right?” Nina shrugged, not admitting that she’d seen the beautiful creature almost every day the last fortnight. “The most amazing eyes.” She fished in the tray of charms. “Like this.” She held up a blue topaz studded charm—the color as clear as his irises.
“You can’t get a charm for just looking,” Stella admonished. “And why were you only looking at his eyes?” She walked away to look in another cabinet. “What about the rest of him?”