Holiday With The Millionaire. Scarlet Wilson
pocket and painted it on her lips. ‘Reuben, what exactly did you plan today? I should remind you, I’m not exactly a sports fan.’
He laughed. ‘It will be fine, I promise. I need to visit one of the nearby football stadiums but I’ll be less than half an hour. Then we can sort out some food and anything else you need to buy.’
She gave a thoughtful nod. ‘I might have left some of my things behind.’
‘Things like what?’
She sighed. ‘My whole summer wardrobe. Just about everything I need to put in my case for my holiday is still at the flat. It’s ready to be picked up. It’s all sitting in another case.’
He blinked. ‘No problem. We’ll swing by later and you can collect it.’
Panic streaked across her face. ‘But... I don’t think... I’m not sure...’
‘Calm down.’ He reached over and took her hand, trying to ignore the little pulses he could feel in his palm, ‘I’ll go and get your things.’
Her eyes widened, flooding with relief. ‘You will?’
How on earth could he say no? ‘Of course I will. No problem.’
He picked up his car keys. ‘Now, can we go?’
* * *
For some strange reason the car seemed to be parting the traffic in London. Lara had never managed to get through the London streets so quickly—but, then again, she’d never been in a car like this one before either. The dark red colour alone seemed to command attention but it was so low, so sleek against the road that she wondered if she’d ever be able to get out again.
Reuben handled the car with ease. In the streets of London she would be terrified to drive a hundred yards but he took every corner without a second thought, pulling up outside the vast stadium only thirty minutes later.
He signalled to her to get out and she climbed out, looking up at the glass-fronted stadium. ‘Come on, I won’t be long,’ he said, as he walked into the reception area, waving at the reception staff. ‘Lydia, Carrie, where’s the chairman?’
‘Downstairs in the changing rooms. He’s talking to the manager.’
Reuben gave a casual wave and opened a door to a flight of stairs. Lara struggled to keep up with his long strides, almost running to keep up as he turned corner after corner through a warren of tunnels underneath the club.
He paused outside one of the doors. ‘Wait here,’ he said, smiling. ‘Don’t want you to see anything you shouldn’t.’ He disappeared through the door.
She sighed and leaned against the concrete wall. This wasn’t exactly her idea of fun. How long would this take?
A few seconds later there were shouts and one of the footballers came stomping along the corridor. His eyes only briefly brushed over her before he pulled his top over his head and banged through the changing-room door.
She sucked in a deep breath. Footballers were known for being temperamental, weren’t they?
A few seconds later the door opened and another footballer came out. This time he had a hint of smile about his face. Which was just as well, since he wasn’t wearing much. Lara sucked in an even deeper breath than before and fixed her eyes on her hands. This guy slammed through another door with ‘Physio’ emblazoned across it.
Then came another, then another, each man wearing a little less than the one before.
Did the players always walk around here practically naked? She had about a hundred friends who would think this a fabulous dream. Pity she wasn’t one of them.
Lara focused on her fingernails. They weren’t great. When was the last time she’d taken time out for a manicure? It had been on her to-do list. It would need to move further up. There was another bang. She couldn’t possibly ignore it.
Her chin bounced off the floor. It was the team’s star mega-million-pound footballer, with painted-on sculpted abs, a pair of teeny-weeny white tight briefs and the best spray tan she’d ever seen. His eyes looked her up and down lasciviously, making her stomach roll over—and not in a good way. His ego was so big there was barely room for the rest of him.
‘Hey, baby,’ he said, as he slid along the corridor towards her.
She gulped. Oh, no. Her worst nightmare. She was so out of her depth right now.
The door opened behind her and an arm slid around her shoulder. ‘Chris, are you being a prat again?’ He turned towards her. ‘Sorry, Lara, I should have warned you about these guys. If there are any females around they like to do walk-bys with each one wearing less than the previous one. Ignore them.’ Reuben had a wet towel in his hand and he flicked it at Chris, who leapt into the air like a big girl.
‘Ouch!’ He rubbed his thigh and stormed back into the changing room, muttering expletives under his breath.
Lara shook her head. ‘You’re joking—that’s what they do?’
Reuben nodded. ‘Every time. They can’t help it. The average mental age around here is about twelve.’
He hadn’t moved his arm from her shoulders and she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it. Exactly how many women did he bring here with him—and why did that matter to her? ‘Can we get out of here now?’
He smiled. A white straight-toothed smile that reached all the way to those big brown eyes she was currently staring up into. It was odd. But it was one of the most genuine smiles she’d seen. Before, he’d been amused by her or he’d been sarcastic. This time it felt real and it sent a little wave of pulses skittering over her skin. Just what she needed while her brain was mush.
She gave a little shudder and put her head down as they walked down the corridor. But Reuben stopped. ‘Hey, what is it?’
Her footsteps had stopped but she hadn’t lifted her head. He stepped in front of her, his fingers reaching down and tilting her chin up towards him.
It seemed such a personal touch—an almost intimate touch. Or as intimate as you could be in a place filled with staff while you were fully clothed. ‘What’s wrong, Lara?’
It was the way he said her name. That Irish lilt that was guaranteed to turn any woman’s legs to jelly. This guy could be Colin Farrell’s brother.
Her body wanted to tremble. But she wouldn’t let it. No way. No, sir.
She lifted her eyes to meet his. ‘Let’s just say I have an image from yesterday imprinted permanently on my brain. It keeps flashing back in there when it’s least wanted.’
He gave a visible shudder. She didn’t need to give an explicit description. He knew exactly what she was getting at.
He swung his arm back around her shoulders. ‘It’s time to move things on. Let’s go and collect the stuff you need for your summer holidays and that way you’re done—finished. For ever. You can forget about the loser and look forward to your holiday.’
He guided her back along the corridor. ‘I meant to ask—where are you going on holiday anyway?’
He pushed the door open and held it for her. ‘I’m booked to go on a cruise,’ she sighed. ‘I always wanted to cruise around the Med so I saved all my spare pennies for it.’ She waved her hand. ‘And if you’re going to cruise, you need the clothes for it.’
He smiled as if an idea had just blossomed in his brain. ‘You certainly do. Where does the ship sail to?’
She was starting to feel a little more comfortable around Reuben. Talking about travelling meant that they were on neutral ground. Small talk was about all she could handle right now. She smiled. ‘Everywhere I’ve always wanted to visit—Barcelona, Monte Carlo, Pisa, Marseille, Sicily.’ A little edge came to her voice. ‘I’m not going to let him spoil it for me.’
Reuben