Seduced by the Baron (The Fairy Tales of New York Book 4) (8 page)

Raf was eating
the best eggs in the universe at a diner near the hotel when his phone beeped to indicate a text. He navigated to the screen. He didn’t recognize the number but he had been giving his card out to a lot of business contacts the last few days. He tapped on the screen to open the message.

Yes.

Raf stared at the text, his pulse picking up a little. Surely no business contact would leave any kind of message without first indicating who they were. So it was either someone sending it to him accidentally or maybe,
just maybe,
it was Faith.

And if so what exactly was she agreeing to?

There was only one way to find out. He tapped out a quick reply.
To the beer thing or the date?

If he was wrong he was going to look like a fool but if he was right…this day was getting off to a great start.

A rapid reply flashed onto his screen in a blue speech bubble.
Both
.

He grinned triumphantly and hit the call button. His smile got bigger when Faith’s husky voice answered on the second ring. “Good morning,” he said.

“Is it?”

He laughed, her casual inquiry not fooling him. Not when it had been delivered with such breathy undertones. “It is. You just made my day.”

There was a pause. “Because of the beer thing or the date?”

He smiled. “Both.”

“What can I say? You give good pitch.”

Raf smiled. “It’s not the only thing I give good.”

There was another pause and he pictured her in her jeans and t-shirt blushing at the phone. “Well…that’s good to know.”

Her breathy reply hummed into his ear, the vibration heading directly south settling in his crotch, buzzing all his hot spots in between.

“When did you want to start the trial?”

Raf smiled at her attempt to get things back on track.

“I’ll ring my distributor now and let you know but it’ll probably be Monday.”

“That works for me. So I’ll…see you then?”

“Yes. I’m sorry but I’m about to head to the airport.” He cursed the timing. If he could he would have caught a cab over to Sully’s and whisked her away on that date right now. “I’m off to Vegas for the weekend.”

“Nice.”

Raf couldn’t decide if
nice
just meant nice or something else. It didn’t sound pissy but there was an edge to it.

Envy, maybe?

“It’s a schmoozy industry thing that I really need to attend if I want to keep Baron lager front and center. Otherwise I’d just cancel. Unless…” an idea formulated in his head. “…you want to come? Can’t beat a weekend in Vegas as a first date. You could lie around the pool during the day and we could hit the blackjack tables at night or see a show? My treat. It’s at the Bellagio,” he added for good measure. And then, because he didn’t want her to think him presumptuous he quickly added, “Separate rooms, of course…” But maybe she didn’t want that? “If you like.”

And he really, really hoped she didn’t.

“Sorry, no can do.”

Her voice sounded tight and there was something else too? Maybe a side of regret? “Of course, it’s short notice and you have to work. I’m sorry.”

He kept forgetting she was chained to Sully’s. Raf had the sudden desire to ride in on a white charger and whisk her away from her life if only for a couple of days. If anyone needed it, she did.

And he just knew she’d rock a bikini.

“It’s fine,” she said but she didn’t sound fine. “I’ll see you on Monday. Text me the distributor details when you have them and have a nice weekend.”

The phone line went dead and Raf stared at the screen for a while. Well…he’d screwed that one up. The urge to jump in a cab and go see her rode him hard but maybe letting her cool down was the better option? And he
had
to be in Vegas. He had three critically important meetings for the company’s future expansion.

But after that he had a month at Sully’s with Faith. And the only thing of critical importance there would be to show her a good time.

*

Faith grunted as
she pushed the heavy, steel keg with her foot. The delivery guy had positioned it close enough to give her the room she needed to maneuver while she hooked up the line but it still wasn’t quite close enough.

Beads of sweat formed at her temple as her head blocked the already dim light. Pushing around full beer kegs was hot work and Faith was grateful for the basement’s fridge-like atmosphere. It had been cold when she’d walked down here in just her jeans and t-shirt half an hour ago but she’d known it wouldn’t last long once she got to work. Several kegs had needed changing and she’d had to flush out the lager lines so Raf’s beer wouldn’t be contaminated with the one she was switching it with.

She’d texted Raf earlier to let him know the delivery driver had arrived and he’d replied that he’d be right over.

She hadn’t heard from him over the course of the weekend which had been a surprise. Faith felt sure he would text her photos all weekend of him in front of the Bellagio fountain or at the blackjack table or by the pool, in a pair of those tiny red speedos she’d seen some Aussie guys wear on a TV show a while ago.

She was pleased he hadn’t. She wasn’t sure she could actually have stood it. When he’d asked her to go she’d wanted to say yes so freaking badly she could almost smell the desert air. But the timing was wrong.

Yes, Zel and Dawn had offered their services but watching Pop while she went on a date for a few hours was entirely different to going away for a couple of days with no advance notice.

It just hadn’t been possible. Her life didn’t allow for that kind of spontaneity.

Her phone chimed a message and she stopped her ministrations. She wiped at the sweat on her temple, stretching out her back as she reached for her cell in her pocket.

I’m here. Pub is locked.

Her pulse did a funny little skip at the prospect of Raf being so near. She’d have thought her blood too cold and sluggish for any kind of blip but it was off and racing.

Give me a minute. In basement tapping your keg.

It would probably sound dirty to him but she sent it anyway. He’d spent the weekend in sunny Vegas – it was sixty-five there, she’d checked – while she froze her ass off here in Brooklyn. He could cool his heels up there while she finished.

Satisfied that she was close enough to the lines she plugged the coupler into the top of the keg. She jumped back as some spray spewed from around the connection. “Son of a –” she gasped as cold beer splashed her cheeks and neck, soaked into her t-shirt.

A shiver crawled over her skin, beading her nipples and spreading goose bumps up her arms as she shook her head and wiped at the liquid running down her throat. The urge to kick the keg was overwhelming but given that Ronan had broken a toe doing that many years ago, she didn’t follow through. She just took a deep breath and started again.

*

The first thing
Raf saw as he walked through the open basement door was the rounded perfection of Faith’s very fine ass as she hunched over the keg. He was pleased he’d decided to seek her out in the basement – the woman wore the hell out of a pair of jeans. He couldn’t remember when he’d last seen such a delectable sight.

“Ha! Gotcha you bastard,” she muttered as she straightened then gave it a little kick for good measure.

“Need a hand with that?”

She reared around in shock, her curls flying, her hand clutched to her chest. “
Fuck,
” she swore. “You scared the crap out of me.”

He grinned at her expletive. It was a terrible flaw of his that he enjoyed hearing dirty words coming out of pretty mouths. “Sorry, I was just…admiring the view.”

She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Well do it louder next time.”

Raf put his hand on his heart hoping like hell there would be a next time. “I promise I shall manfully clear my throat in future.” His gaze was drawn to the way her Sully’s t-shirt pulled across her breasts and the two hard points he could clearly make out. “Aren’t you cold?”

He was layered up and she was just in her jeans and a t-shirt in a basement that could have doubled as a morgue.

“No. Hauling these kegs around is hot work.” She folded her arms across her chest. If she meant to hide her erect nipples, she failed miserably, the action pulling the fabric tauter. “Now if you’ll excuse me I’m not quite finished. You go on up,” she said, pointing to the nearby internal stairs that obviously led to the pub.

She turned back to the keg placing her hands on the top of it while using her feet and knees to nudge it closer to the wall in line with the others.

“As much as I’m loving a repeat offering of this view,” he said taking three strides and elbowing her out of the way, “I’m not going upstairs while you’re down here lugging around hundred and sixty pound kegs.”

He lifted the offending item and placed it in position. When he turned, she was still standing pretty much where he’d left her which put them tantalizingly close. If he wanted, he could just slide his hand onto her hip. His groin fired to life and his gut lurched at their proximity.

He wanted.

“Thank you,” she said, and the warmth of her breath misted into the paltry space between them.

He didn’t feel cold anymore.

His eyes roved over her face and the outline of her crazy curls. She looked
good
. Everything in Vegas had seemed fake but Faith was
real
. “God,” he muttered, lifting his hand to push a stray curl off her forehead. “You are a sight for sore eyes. Is it mad to say I’ve missed you?”

His heart certainly beat a crazy rhythm. Why was it nothing seemed too nutty around this woman?

“What? No sexy cocktail waitresses to flirt with?”

His fingers lingered and trailed lightly down the side of her face until he was cupping her cheek. “There was no one like you,” he murmured.

He stroked his thumb across her cheekbone and her eyes drifted shut. His breath grew syrupy in his lungs until it was so heavy he could barely shift any air at all. It was suffocating
and
intoxicating. She was like some drug and all that mattered was that he kiss her.

He didn’t understand why he was so enamored with a woman who was unavailable on so many levels but then her eyelids fluttered open and stole his breath completely.

“You’re one of a kind, Faith.” And he meant it.

Her body swayed, his did too. Or maybe he took the final step to bridge the miniscule gap between them, he wasn’t sure. All he was sure about was her mouth. And tasting it as soon as possible.

Her moan as their lips met grabbed him by the gut and squeezed hard. He’d expected her to resist, to push him away. He was prepared to go slow, to coax. But she didn’t resist. She
melted
against him like a snowflake, sliding her hands up around his neck and into his hair, going up on her tiptoes, aligning their hips, angling her head, opening her lips to deepen things, licking into his mouth with her tongue.

And everything spun out of control.

His tongue took up the invitation to play, tangoing with hers in a sexy game of hide and seek. In and out. Back and forth. Advance and retreat. The kiss grew harder, wetter, hotter, sensations bombarding him, spiralling like tornadoes through every cell, wreaking havoc with his control. His heart banged against the cage of his chest as their rough breathing filled his head and all the space in the otherwise silent room turning it from frigid to tropical as hot waves of lust rippled into every corner.

Christ.
He wanted to get her naked. Horizontal. He wanted to put his hands all over her. His
mouth
all over her. He hated her clothes. And his. He wanted them off. He wanted to imprint himself on her skin.

His hands slid down to her hips then onto her butt, pulling her closer,
harder
against his rampant erection but it just wasn’t enough.

Too many clothes.

“God,” he groaned, as he pulled away slightly, their lips still brushing. “You feel so damn good. And you smell like beer,” he muttered as he nuzzled a cheekbone then headed south, dropping kisses down the side of her neck. “Correction, you smell like
my
beer.” He groaned as his tongue lapped into the hollow at the base of her throat. “I think that’s the sexiest thing I’ve smelled.”