 
# Countess Curvy: A Curvy Girl's Earl

### by Kristabel Reed

Copyright © 2014 by Kristabel Reed

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

A Wicked ePub® Original Publication

ISBN 13:

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.

This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Formatted by: CyberWitch Press

# Chapter One

"Distracted? Seems my curves are just as dangerous as texting and driving."

Audrey Mills pursed her full lips, painted a deep red today. The photographer, like a transfixed, drooling puppy, stared at her mouth and gave her a crooked grin. He swept his gaze over her figure, giving her an appreciative look as he did so.

"Now, Simon, back to work." Audrey smiled as she said that and watched her event photographer collect himself. With one final grin, he snapped several more photos.

In a room full of flat-chested, rail-thin models wearing skimpy dresses, it amused her that her amply curved figure still mesmerized. If she was completely honest with herself, it pleased her, too. She wasn't immune to being admired by the opposite sex.

Her off-shoulder cocktail dress hugged her in all the right places and flirted just enough above the knee to tease. Of course, her sky-high heels helped, too.

Audrey laughed and smoothed a hand down her hip as she gave the last model an approval nod. The afternoon had gone better than she'd hoped, and while she'd been here as a stylist to the models, she'd ended up coordinating the photo shoot as well.

"That's it, everybody," Audrey announced as she checked off her list. "Last model is out the door. Anne will be taking over for pack-up and cleanup. Great work on the event! And thank you for donating your time for the charity."

Audrey stepped aside as Anne took over coordination.

She was antsy not just to join the party, but to poke around the museum. Audrey hadn't been to London in years; the last time she'd been here was for a _Vogue_ shoot. And that was a fly-in, style-the-shoot, fly-out job.

When Anne had asked her to style this event at the British Museum, Audrey had jumped at the chance not only to help out a friend and a charity, but to poke around London.

And to visit the British Museum. She'd never made it here and was dying to explore the fashion hall. If she got lost in here, so much the better.

This time was her time, a mini vacation to indulge her love of all things British—or at least in their unique style—and her love of history. She'd enjoy the city, visit a few designers, sightsee all major tourist attractions, and scour the antique shops. It was perfect.

Audrey took one last look at Anne, who had the wrap-up well under way, and checked her makeup at a model's station. At twenty-seven, she was happy where she was in life; she had a great New York City apartment in Tribeca, was living with a couple close friends, and got to travel on someone else's dime.

Who wouldn't love that? Certainly not her, she loved practically everything about her life.

One of the models smiled at her and grabbed the plastic container full of carrot sticks. Audrey shrugged. Nothing against carrots, she loved them, but not as the only thing for lunch. One of her favorite Mae West quotes popped into her head.

" _I never worry about diets. The only carrots that interest me are the number you get in a diamond."_ She loved that quote. Then again, Audrey couldn't think of a Mae West quote she didn't love.

She stepped out from behind the curtains hiding the chaos of the prep area, and made her way to the buffet. Set up among the myriad of mannequins wearing Regency era clothing, it was, in Audrey's opinion, the perfect place for her to start her vacation. She grabbed a petit Napoleon pastry as she passed the dessert table and enjoyed the irony of it.

Set behind glass, a particularly gorgeous Regency ball gown caught her attention. The pale blue creation dripped in beadwork over very fine Venetian lace. Ignoring her reflection, Audrey admired the needlework and the elegance the gown projected. Behind the coiffed mannequin stood a gentleman's form; this one boasted a perfectly preserved evening suit that could have easily been the inspiration for Mr. Darcy.

Audrey licked the last bit of cream off her finger and stepped closer to better see the Mr. Darcy lookalike. Instead of Mr. Darcy, she saw a handsome male face reflect off the glass, almost perfectly aligned over the period suit.

"Transports you to another time, doesn't it?"

The man's deep voice could coax a girl out of her panties. Audrey wasn't immune and turned to see the owner of that very low, all sexy English velvet voice. She licked her lips as she took him in, recognizing that very distinctive face. His vivid blue eyes caught hers, and she had to admit, she felt a little zing of lust. Well, maybe not so little.

She smiled up at him, saw his blue eyes darken as his gaze held hers, and felt that zing again.

"It's a fantasy, that's for sure," she commented as she tilted her head and turned completely toward him.

"You create quite a spectacular fantasy." His voice slid over her skin, smooth and arousing. "Your presentation is exceptional."

He didn't take his gaze from hers and for a beat, Audrey wondered if he meant the show...or her. Then, without tearing his gaze from hers, he gestured toward the models wandering among the guests.

"Thank you, Lord Thornhill." Audrey checked her thoughts.

Of course, he'd been referring to her styling skills and nothing else. She might feel sexy and alluring to Simon the photographer in her size sixteen body, but Lord Thornhill struck her as one who preferred the boyish frames of the models slinking around the room over her generous curves.

"And may I say your presentation," Audrey hesitated just slightly. She let her gaze wander up and down his body, a small smile playing around the corners of her lips. Oh, he filled out the gray suit well, very well, and she could definitely appreciate his form. "Is well received."

Oh, she could make him guess, too. Thornhill narrowed his eyes curiously for a moment as his gaze continued to hold hers. Audrey allowed her smile to grow just slightly.

Audrey gave a little nod in acknowledgement of their byplay, then commented,

"The charity will gather quite a lot of buzz from this event."

"In no small part to your efforts, Ms. Mills," Thornhill stated.

Audrey was impressed that the great media mogul Duncan Collins, Earl of Thornhill, had taken the time to ask someone her name.

"I appreciate the acknowledgement, Lord Thornhill," Audrey said as she inhaled deeply, knowing fully what that did to her cleavage. "I was happy to do it. A very worthy cause, this."

"Yes, yes." He couldn't conceal how his eyes drifted over her body. "A very worthy cause, the preservation of the spotted leprechaun in the northern moors."

Audrey peered at him quizzically before laughing. "You have no idea what this charity is for, do you?"

"I write checks and make appearances." He smiled. "I rarely listen to assistants who babble in my ear just as I enter the car."

"I see you live dangerously," Audrey observed.

"Whenever I can," he confirmed.

"Lord Thornhill." A woman dressed in a dark blue suit tapped Thornhill on the arm. "Do pardon, but I was wondering if you'd share your observations of the event with _The Times_?"

Audrey threw the interloping woman a quick wait-a-moment smile and turned back to Thornhill. "Again, thank you for including me, Lord Thornhill, in today's event. Funding creative arts and education afterschool programs could unearth all sorts of treasures. It was a pleasure meeting you," she said with a slightly wicked grin before walking away.

"I believe Ms. Mills brought a breath of fresh air to these otherwise standard events," Thornhill commented to the reporter.

Audrey glanced back and smiled when she heard the comment. Embracing the fantasy of chatting up an earl at the British Museum, she all too easily envisioned him turning and leaving the reporter to follow her.

When he did just that, Audrey wondered if she'd somehow called out to him, but no. He'd very clearly left the reporter behind and walked steadily to where she stood.

"Have you taken a walk down the costume hall yet?" he asked, his hands casually in his pockets. "I would imagine you could find quite a number of treasures there."

"No," Audrey responded, still a bit stunned he left the reporter to ask her this. "I haven't."

"Would you allow me to escort you?" He offered his arm. "I would love to hear your thoughts on the historical costume, from your unique perspective."

"Certainly," Audrey answered as she slipped her hand through the crook of his arm.

"Thorny," a whiny voice called from behind them, "I thought we were going to lunch?"

Audrey heard Thornhill sigh deeply, and he threw her an apologetic smile before turning to a tall, thin blonde woman wearing what amounted to four flimsy napkins belted by a glittery belt.

"I believe Mr. Westcombe brought you, Miss Blake," Thornhill said rather dismissively. "Perhaps you should ask him about your plans. I am unavailable."

"But he said he was setting us up," the Blake woman informed him, completely ignoring Audrey. "I expected us to have a little afternoon delight." She said the last very suggestively.

"Expect it with Mr. Westcombe." Thornhill pulled Audrey back with him. "Good day."

Audrey kept pace with Thornhill as they dodged a few other reporters and wandered down the Regency Costume Hall.

"Wasn't she—" Audrey started.

"Unimportant," Thornhill finished. "Yes. My friends have this need to bring dates for me, even when I do not ask for them."

"Most men would have been appreciative of such a date, Lord Thornhill," Audrey said. Though maybe not with that screechy voice.

"Most men can have her, then." He smiled as they proceeded down the hall, away from the other guests.

"Most men probably have," Audrey muttered. To her surprise, Thornhill stifled a laugh.

Audrey let go of Thornhill's arm and stepped around one of the costume displays. "I saw the style of this bodice on one of the runways in New York last season. I would bet the designer probably drew inspiration from this very gown."

"And what inspires you?" he asked as he circled around the display and stepped closer to her.

"All sorts of things." Audrey glanced up at him. His vivid blue eyes had darkened, and there was a definite predatory look in them. She shivered, another zing of lust warming her. And making her want to do a variety of scandalous things to the handsome earl in the middle of the British Museum.

"Something as simple as seeing the perfect hue of crimson or as complex as these historical gowns." Her voice dripped with innuendo, and she offered a slow smile. "And you, Lord Thornhill?" She deepened the suggestion in her voice just slightly. "What inspires you?"

He looked at her with an honesty that surprised her. The heat in his gaze hadn't lessened but burned brighter, if possible. "For a long time it was the challenge of work. Now, right now, it's something else altogether."

"A new muse?" Audrey asked and took a step closer.

Thornhill smiled that same wolfish grin that tightened through her and had her wondering how many cameras the museum had. And if they could find a place out of those cameras' range. Yes, that would be her perfect fantasy.

"Something like that," he offered.

"I love new inspirations." Audrey tore her gaze from his, those mesmerizing blue eyes that held her captive with its suggestive heat. "They can be so wickedly fun." She ran her eyes over the costumed mannequins only briefly before she looked back at him. She couldn't seem to keep her gaze off him for too long.

"Ms. Mills." Thornhill leaned his shoulder against the glass display, his hands back in his pockets. But the casual air was false, burning with need and drawing her to him in a way Audrey hadn't known was possible. "Would you care to have dinner with me tonight?"

Did he just ask her out on a date? Or was this a polite gesture of some sort? Audrey's first reaction was to tell him to dispense with formalities and take her right here and now. To ease the arousing fire burning through her. But then her playful mood turned and she felt uneasy, taken aback. Harmless flirting was one thing, but now? Was he being cruel? Why would Lord Thornhill, of all people, want to ask her on a date?

Audrey took a deep breath and smoothed her skirt. "Thank you, but no. I think you would be better suited with Miss Blake."

# Chapter Two

"That was cruel, Ms. Mills," Thornhill stated. His eyes twinkled with amusement, and a slow smile spread over his lips. "You'd curse me to an evening of inane conversation, followed by inappropriate groping?"

"You don't strike me as a man to shun inappropriate groping," Audrey added with a smile of her own.

"Well...not from the right woman." He pushed off the wall, all coiled grace and sex.

Audrey studied him for a long moment. Suddenly their conversation had turned from a game of fun flirting to more. Much more. She came to the astonishing conclusion that this shockingly handsome tall drink of deliciousness was actually into her. She could feel her eyes widen as she looked up at him.

"Come now, Ms. Mills." Thornhill took a step closer, his gaze steady on hers. "I can't believe you aren't pursued every waking moment."

"I must admit while I'm used to the delivery man or the odd photographer appreciating my curvaceous figure," Audrey was surprised her voice held steady. "You are my very first...earl."

"It's good to be first." His smile was slow and suggestive, and it took Audrey more than one moment to look away from his lips. What would they feel like against hers? What did he taste like? She licked her own lips at the thought, and then regretted it when his eyes followed the move.

Maybe not regret, not if the rush of heat through her was any indication. No definitely not regret.

"So, what do you say?" Thornhill asked, his voice low, a caress over her bare skin. "Will you rescind your rejection and accompany me to dinner tonight?"

A million things went through Audrey's mind—everything from _Is he joking?_ to _Can I really do this?_ It would be such a fantasy to enjoy this man, to joke with him, to kiss him. To have him. Audrey had never really fallen headlong into the self-esteem chubby girl trap, but she still knew full well that this type of pairing never happened. Never.

She tore her gaze from his mouth, a small, thin voice telling her that wondering what he tasted like was the last damn thing she should be wondering. _"Between two evils, I always pick the one I've never tried before."_ The Mae West quote raced through her mind, and she heard herself saying, "I suppose it would nice to experience London with a native."

The instant the words left her mouth, that small voice shut up. Decision made then. Audrey smiled up at Thornhill and nodded—whether to confirm her words to him or reiterate them to herself didn't matter. She'd enjoy dinner with the handsome earl. And maybe get to taste those delectable lips.

"Then I promise to make sure you thoroughly enjoy the experience." His voice heavy with insinuation, he offered that same slow smile that did things to her insides. Hot, delicious things that also had Audrey's imagination racing.

With a calm she didn't necessarily feel, Audrey continued looking at the display, with Lord Thornhill at her side. She didn't retake his arm; somehow doing so would feel far too intimate, which was insane. But the look in his eyes and the smile he'd offered her had her heart pounding and her body wondering just how delicious his would feel against hers.

There was conversation, Audrey knew there was, but the mundane talk about costumes and charities had nothing on her sudden fantasies. She needed to rein herself in before she humiliated herself. Normally she was so good with words, using them to deflect embarrassment and turn the conversation to her advantage.

She swallowed, determined to put this conversation and upcoming date on firm footing—her footing. With a suggestive smile, Audrey told him where she was staying, the Gideon London. One of her best friends, Sabrina, worked as the VP of Development for Gideon Hotels International. It paid to have friends in the right places.

"Can I drop you off there?" Thornhill asked, that same spark in his eye.

"No, thanks," Audrey managed with that same calm. "I have a couple things to wrap up here first."

He nodded, his gaze never leaving hers, and for the first time in a long, long while—maybe in forever—Audrey felt as if a man's entire attention rested on her. The heady sensation made her slightly dizzy, but she brushed it aside with a bright smile and a promise to see him tonight.

As she turned to find Anne, Audrey wondered what the hell she'd got herself into. Adding a swing to her hips, she decided she didn't care. Brave new world or brave new earl. Or something. There had to be a quote for this—she was certain of it. But at the moment she honestly couldn't think of one.

She couldn't think of anything but Lord Thornhill, and that was dangerous.

Saying her goodbyes to Anne, she ignored the cabs and walked the few blocks to her hotel. She had too much energy to sit for the ride, too much pent-up drive to stay still. Damn but she hadn't felt like this, hadn't felt so excited, so _aroused_ , in ages. The cool spring afternoon blew around her, and Audrey was glad she'd remembered her coat.

Weather in London was an experience.

Her heels clicked on the sidewalk, nearly drowned out by the noise of the city. Tourists dodged around natives, and car horns blared for attention. Just as well she hadn't taken a cab back to the hotel—she knew she walked faster than the traffic jam she passed. Audrey ignored them all and turned her attention inward, but it was no use. She didn't care what prompted Thornhill to ask her to dinner; the heat in his gaze had been confirmation enough of his interest.

Did she have a dress appropriate for dinner with an earl? Audrey slowed and looked at the shop windows she passed. Images of _Downton Abbey_ Edwardian wear floated through her head.

At the third store, she saw a lovely blue dress with a fitted bodice that vaguely reminded her of the gowns she'd seen that afternoon.

She took a step forward, toward the door, and stopped. She'd seen many shops like this before, clothes that were tailor made for women without her rather ample curves. Women who didn't even know what a size sixteen looked like. Audrey looked at the beautiful blue dress once more and continued walking.

She didn't bother to see if the dress came in her size; none of the truly gorgeous ones ever did.

Walking faster, Audrey ignored that stupid tiny voice that returned to tell her going to dinner with Thornhill was a supremely bad idea, and she forced a bright smile to the doorman as she entered The Gideon.

She slipped the keycard into the lock and let the door slam closed behind her. Shrugging out of her coat, she hung it up and looked at the meager selection of clothing she'd packed. When she decided to make this a working vacation, Audrey hadn't planned on fancy dinners with nobility. And she really wished she could ring up Eliza and have her bring round another dress.

Ring up? She laughed at herself. She had been in London for three days, and already she sounded more and more British.

Damn it, there wasn't enough time between now and dinner to find a new dress. There was no way in hell she'd be able to find the right shop in time. Audrey took out her dresses and criticized each and every one in the bright entry light. Where was he taking her? She hadn't asked—it hadn't been important.

Then. Now it was the most important thing she could think of! Was this a fancy dinner? In which case, she really didn't have an outfit. Or could she get away with a black cocktail dress?

Holding the dress in front of her, she studied herself in the mirror. This would have to make do; it was called the little black dress for a reason.

But was it a _Come up and see me sometime_ dress? She didn't know.

After a quick shower to freshen up, a mild panic when she couldn't find her blow dryer, and entirely too long wondering if she should have hunted down a plus-size store for a new outfit, which she probably should have done, Audrey stood in front of the mirror now clad in the black dress. Which didn't look right. Didn't feel right.

Suddenly she had a headache.

Damn it, why hadn't she packed more dresses? Why hadn't she taken the time to look for one on her walk here? Thornhill was picking her up in thirty minutes, and this versatile little black dress was very, very wrong.

Audrey sighed and looked at the other offerings. What did one wear to dinner with an earl, anyway? She could add the pashmina she'd packed for this afternoon, but it was too chilly out for only the wrap. She could change. But none of her other clothes were fancy-dinner appropriate. Adding a chunky necklace, a triple strand of red glass bead that rested nicely on her breasts, she once more scrutinized herself.

Time had run out.

Cursing herself, Audrey checked her makeup again, tucked several loose strands of blonde hair into her chignon, grabbed her coat and purse, and vowed never again to vacation without an appropriate selection of dinner-with-an-earl dresses.

The elevator took forever to descend the three floors, and in that time Audrey did her level best to rebuild her confidence and plaster that Mae West smile on her face. After all, this was only dinner. Dinner with the drop-dead gorgeous Earl of Thornhill, but dinner nonetheless. And she could do dinner with a handsome man.

And do the handsome man.

He was early. Thornhill stood in the lobby in the gray pinstripe suit he had on earlier. His hands hid in his pants pockets, his jacket open to reveal his blue shirt stretched over his chest. Audrey really did try not to think about running her hands—or her tongue—over his chest.

She smiled at him, desperately trying to recapture their witty banter from earlier in her opening line, but as she stopped in front of him, all Audrey could think about was how great he smelled. Whatever cologne he wore, it wasn't too strong—just enough to tease and tempt her. She wanted to breathe him in.

Clearing her throat she said instead, "Hi. So what does the Londoner have to show the New Yorker tonight?"

He chuckled and offered his arm. "You look smashing, Audrey. Tonight, I thought we might mix it up."

Audrey smiled and threaded her hand through the crook of his elbow. A ubiquitous black London cab waited for them at the curb, and Thornhill helped her in before rounding to the other side. Audrey settled back and schooled her features into her best flirty smile.

"I'm all for mixing it up," she agreed. "Where are we mixing?"

And if there happened to be a healthy dose of innuendo, well, that was all right, too.

"A little place near Hyde Park," Thornhill said with that same slow smile that did things to her insides. "An old Victorian tobacconist converted to a restaurant. Quaint place, great food."

She'd never been to Hyde Park, though it was on her list of touristy places to visit this trip. There, the Tower of London, the London Eye, and Big Ben. The cab pulled to a stop, and she waited while Thornhill rounded the cab and opened her door.

From the outside it did indeed look like a Victorian building, with lots of stone and wrought iron. The engraving by the steps read _Charles & Sons Tobacconist, est. 1860_. Audrey turned to wait for Thornhill but he was suddenly there, his hand on her arm as he led her inside. The interior of the restaurant contrasted with the exterior. Done in modern colors with recessed lighting, the immediate look felt a bit too art deco for her.

But they didn't have to wait in the lobby, with its low, throbbing music and small, intimate tables. Thornhill guided her up the stairs to a bar. Two bars on opposite sides of the room with expansive marble counters were separated by several small cocktail tables crowded with couples and groups of friends. Curiously, each bar had only one bartender and customers stood behind the bar, around an extensive array of liquors.

"I thought this might be fun," Thornhill said as they waited for the hostess to seat them. "I've never been here before, but Westcombe raves about this place."

"What are they doing?" Audrey asked, eyeing the couples and the bartender. She'd heard him mention Westcombe before, and was curious as to this friend of his. But the bar was far more curious, and she decided to focus on that.

"Creating cocktails," he said with a smile. "Brings a new meaning to 'happy hour.'"

Laughing, Audrey asked, "We get to be mad cocktail scientists?"

"We can be blooming bonkers," he agreed.

She laughed again and knew he'd said that for her, the American. Audrey didn't mind and kept her arm in the crook of his as the hostess led them to the bar.

With a wide smile and a few cursory instructions, Jack, the bartender, showed them how to use the blender and the drinks shaker. "Nonalcoholic beverages are here." Jack pointed to the row of bottles. "The sweeter alcohols are here." He pointed to another row. "Feel free to try anything you want, mix anything. If you have questions, just ask."

Thornhill randomly grabbed two bottles and poured them into a glass. Audrey dubiously eyed the concoction. It was interesting.

"Your friend raves about this place?" she asked, sniffing the mixture.

She looked up to see him smiling down at her, his gaze moving from her lips to her eyes. Again, he seemed totally focused on her, and she found it more than a little disconcerting. And highly arousing.

"Swears by it," Thornhill said with that wicked grin that made her toes curl.

"I bet." She nodded, trying to uncurl her toes and focus on something other than his mouth. Or his hands. "Easy way to get the girls drunk."

His laugh washed over her, and electric shocks danced over her skin. "Or easy way for the girls to get him drunk."

Audrey grinned at him and looked back at the drink he'd made. With a shrug, she downed it. "Ugh," she managed. "God awful! What did you pour?"

Gasping for breath, she grabbed a bottle of water and tried to rinse the taste from her mouth. Thornhill laughed and read the labels. He laughed louder when he told her, and despite the nasty taste in her mouth, Audrey was entranced by that sound.

"Glenfiddich Whiskey and Triple Sec."

She blanched and drank more water. "What did you do during your college years?"

"As little as I could," he admitted.

"You certainly didn't take mixology, Lord Thornhill," Audrey said as she dumped the rest of his concoction.

"Duncan." Her head jerked up and she looked at him for a long, silent moment, still holding the glass over the sink. "Call me Duncan."

"Duncan," Audrey said and tried her very best not to think about how the name rolled easily off her tongue. How perfect it tasted.

She cleared her throat and grabbed the makings for an apple martini. With several practiced moves, she made him the one drink she knew by heart. The one she could make with his smile doing very hot things to her insides, her brain trying desperately not to think about how his mouth would taste after the apple martini.

"Cheers," Duncan said and took the drink from her.

Though she didn't know how long they spent at the bar, mixing drinks and laughing at each other, Audrey relaxed. Really relaxed. When they went up another flight of stairs to the restaurant, that intimacy didn't evaporate. He never looked around to see if he knew anyone, and once again she found his attention solely on her.

Audrey licked her lips as the waitress placed their dessert in the center of the table. Dinner had been fantastic; it was fun and exciting, and she hadn't once needed to resort to witty quips. Sinking her fork into the thick chocolate cake, Audrey tried to remember the last time she'd had so much fun.

"You're not having any?" she asked as the cake all but melted in her mouth.

"No," Duncan said with that smile. "You enjoy."

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Audrey resisted another bite of the cake and set her fork down.

He looked at her, his blue eyes studying her as she finished her wine. "Ready, then?"

"Yeah," Audrey mumbled, hating the sudden bout of chubby-girl nerves that seemed so determined to ruin her night.

But Duncan paid and they left, and he didn't seem to notice the change in her mood. "Want to take a walk in Hyde Park?" he asked.

Tempted as she was, Audrey shook her head. "No, it's late, and I'm sure you have to be at the office early tomorrow."

A pathetic excuse if ever she'd uttered one.

But he just smiled and took her hand, once again threading it through the crook of his elbow. A cold spring wind blew down the street, but she barely noticed as he guided her to the corner and the cab waiting there. To her surprise, it was the same driver who dropped them off.

Their conversation was muted as the cab pulled to the curb of the hotel. Stepping out of the car, she turned with a bright smile. "Thanks," she said. "I had a great evening. I don't think I'll ever look at alcohol the same way again."

"I promise not to give up my day job to become a bartender," Duncan said and led her into the lobby.

Audrey expected him to say good night there and leave her to walk up to her room alone, but he led her to the elevators.

"Which floor?"

"Three," she managed. "Three-twenty."

The ride up was silent, but not awkward. That also surprised her, and she let it slide, enjoying the almost intimate way that silence wrapped around them. Duncan walked her to her door, and when she turned to thank him again, his mouth cut off whatever she'd planned to say.

The kiss seared through her, instantly hot, almost overwhelming in its intensity. Audrey opened her mouth and kissed him back, suddenly desperate to know how he tasted. Wanted to keep the memory, keep it close, and maybe only tell Eliza and Sabrina when she eventually returned to New York.

Duncan's hands cupped her shoulders, pulling her closer, and her thoughts on memories and friends fizzled into a burst of arousal as Duncan changed the angle of the kiss. Beneath her fingers, his muscled arms were rigid. She desperately wanted to feel his skin against hers, and she slipped her hands beneath his suit jacket.

Slowly, Duncan pulled back. When Audrey blinked, opened her eyes, and looked up at him, it took her a moment to gather her thoughts. Damn, but that man could kiss! She licked her lips and tried to remember how to speak, to invite him into her room.

He swallowed hard and stepped back, those piercing blue eyes a stormy darkness now and still utterly focused on her. "Tomorrow?" he asked, his voice low and velvety. "Shall we explore a bit more of my old London?"

Audrey nodded, not trusting her voice, not even certain she still had a voice. She understood his words; they did make sense, but she couldn't quite comprehend them. So she nodded. At this moment, she'd agree to just about anything he said.

Duncan leaned forward, touching his forehead to hers. "All right then." His lips just brushed hers. "Until tomorrow."

He looked at her for another long moment then turned and walked away. Audrey swallowed and watched him leave. Her fingers trembled as she tried to insert the keycard into the door.

"What the hell," she mumbled. But it didn't matter, because her skin was on fire, her senses spun with his taste, and his scent, and tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

# Chapter Three

The knock on the hotel room door woke her up. Blinking open eyes that refused to focus, Audrey struggled to concentrate. The knock came again. Panicked at the thought it could be Duncan, she leapt out of bed, found her robe, and desperately hoped he wasn't standing on the other side.

She tied the robe tight, made sure nothing scandalous peeked out, then wondered when she'd become so concerned with scandalizing anyone.

Peering out the peephole, she saw room service.

Disappointed, though she couldn't have said why, she was also relieved. Mostly relieved. It was not Duncan on the other side, coming to her hotel room to...what? Ravish her in the hallway? Take her on the terrace? Any terrace?

Oh, her imagination all too easily pictured the two of them doing all sorts of naughty things. Arousal shot through her, making her knees weak and her toes curl. His mouth on hers had been enough to make her forget her name. She could only imagine—and did—what the rest of his body could do to her.

And she definitely, desperately, and determinedly wanted to find out.

Audrey shook her head and tried to think clearly. Had she ordered breakfast? What time was it?

In her rush, she hadn't bothered to check the clock. Opening the door, she blinked sleep from her eyes, tried to comb back her hair into some semblance of style, and smiled brightly at the young woman wheeling in the breakfast tray. With flowers. Beautiful multicolored flowers that smelled heavenly.

Audrey waited while the woman set up the breakfast, still a little unclear if she'd ordered the food or not. She knew she hadn't ordered the flowers, lovely as they were. But the woman didn't hand over the leather thing with the bill; she merely smiled, wished her a pleasant morning, and left.

Well that had to be the first time anyone had ever not paid for room service. Huh. They probably just charged it to her room. No matter. She was hungry.

Picking up the flowers, Audrey breathed deeply and smiled. They were beautiful, so colorful in the dim hotel light. And they had a note attached.

Her heart pounding, she carefully set the flowers back on the tray and opened the single sheet of paper.

Good morning. I hope your evening was as much fun as mine. I shall be by at 1 to pick you up for a touristy day.

Yours,

Duncan

PS: Enjoy breakfast.

Her breath caught, her eyes riveted first to the handwritten letter then to the flowers that he'd obviously arranged to deliver along with breakfast.

Wow. He'd managed to deliver the single most romantic gift she'd ever received, and he hadn't even been there to do so in person. Food and flowers—the man was a genius.

Audrey licked her lips and imagined she still tasted him there. She shook her head and picked up a piece of bacon, using the crispy meat to distract herself. A quick glance at the hotel's alarm clock showed her it was only a little after eight—too early to call her friends in New York.

She needed a distraction. Audrey contemplated the breakfast tray as she narrowed her eyes and raised an eyebrow. What she needed was a shopping distraction, she decided, as she reread Duncan's note. She had absolutely nothing to wear for a touristy date with Duncan.

Well...she probably had _something_. But she wanted something else. Something new and sexy for a date, not normal and blah for a single woman's tour around London.

Her stomach did a little flip, and she found it difficult to catch her breath at the thought of seeing Duncan again.

It was all simply exciting. An earl, London, could she get any luckier?

She finished breakfast and quickly showered and dressed. She needed to find a store that sold her size and something fun, only slightly practical, and definitely flirty for her date this afternoon.

Audrey swallowed and paused in front of her room door. What the hell was she doing? She was getting too wrapped up in this date; there was no future here—nothing beyond a few exciting dates with the man. She shouldn't be this worked up, this _giddy_ , over seeing him again. It bordered on embarrassing.

Duncan might be an earl, but she was a New Yorker.

At the concierge desk she asked where she could find a store, trying to use whatever subtlety she could to also convey the fact she needed it to be a plus-sized store. But the man behind the desk didn't so much as blink before searching his computer. Ten minutes later she had the address of what sounded like a department store and a small boutique three blocks away.

Once in the boutique, she spent considerable time picking out three outfits and tried not to go overboard. No matter what she told herself, it didn't matter. And when she saw the lingerie department, her feet happened to take her in that direction. After all, she'd only brought an oversized T-shirt to sleep in, certainly not suitable if she planned to allow herself to be seduced.

Was she going overboard? Going too far on one kiss and several very vivid and heated fantasies? Audrey shrugged and fingered a flimsy piece of satin; she didn't care.

She could hem and haw for days if she really thought about it, about what risks she exposed her heart to. But Audrey had to do this with open eyes: It was a fantasy. Duncan was a billionaire earl from London, and she was a New York girl. Duncan was scrumptious on a stick, and she wasn't exactly the latest Victoria's Secret Angel.

Who cared?

This was every woman's fantasy, and Audrey intended to live it out to the fullest and to the best of her ability. Every waking, delicious, sexy, salty moment of it.

Audrey looked up at the mirror opposite her and licked her lips, watching the movement in her reflection. Was there even a possibility? She looked back at the dark blue satin between her fingers. It didn't matter; she had to buy it. She made her own possibilities, and she'd be damned if she didn't enjoy these next few days with Duncan to their fullest.

_You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough_. She'd take that particular Mae West quote and embrace it. Because right now, she planned on enjoying her date with Duncan.

Back in her room, packages dumped on every available surface, Audrey looked at the clock; there was a five-hour time difference between here and New York. She didn't care if it was barely seven there, and dialed her roommates.

Impatiently tapping her foot as she waited for one of them to pick up, Audrey forced herself to sit on the leather couch by the wall of windows. She had entirely too much energy since agreeing to see Duncan yesterday and she shifted to one of the many shopping bags next to her, carefully pulling out her purchases.

"Hello?" Sabrina asked around a mouthful of what had to be breakfast.

"Hey, Sabrina," Audrey said. "It's me."

"Hey, you," her friend shot back. "How's the world traveler? And how do you like the hotel? I spent a lot of time developing that property. It's coming up on the four-year anniversary, and I want it to be as fabulous now as it was then."

Unable to contain herself, Audrey gushed—and was highly embarrassed that she'd done so. "I met an earl!"

Good Lord, she sounded like a giddy schoolgirl on her first date with a crush. Audrey felt her cheeks blush and tried to keep said giddiness from her tone, though it was too late now. How many times had that phrase, _I met an earl_ been uttered in a romance novel?

On the other end of the phone, Audrey heard a slight intake of breath then the click of a glass as the other woman set down her morning smoothie.

"What? In my hotel?" Sabrina laughed. "You met an earl, as in a _Downton Abbey_ and 'Your Grace' earl?"

"Your Grace is a duke," Audrey corrected, inordinately pleased that she sounded more like her even-keeled self.

Audrey could almost see her friend waving her hand in dismissal. "Fine," Sabrina said. "Yes. Well? What happened?"

That giddiness surged back, with giddy arousal and anticipation. Audrey decided to embrace it. Uncaring about the embarrassment she should feel about being so giddy, Audrey continued. "And," she said, "we went on a date."

There were more choking sounds, and Audrey laughed. When was the last time she'd been this happy? Been this...free? It felt good, and no matter what did or didn't happen with Duncan, this was going to be a fantastic vacation.

"How did this happen?" Sabrina demanded, her voice sounding weak as she cleared her throat. "Who is this guy?" And Audrey could all but see her friend narrowing her eyes as she asked wryly, "Is he like one of those Italian princes who have no money?"

"No." She laughed again, embracing this feeling. "He's not like that, and he's not Italian. It's Duncan Collins, Earl of Thornhill."

Audrey waited a moment for the name to sink in. Then she heard strange hissing sounds, possibly choking sounds. Maybe something in the smoothie caught in Sabrina's throat. Her news probably should've come with a warning label: "Best friend's news may be hazardous to your breakfast."

Still nothing from her friend. Frowning into the phone, Audrey looked at it. Had they lost the connection? But, no, all those bars still glowed brightly.

"What's that noise?" she demanded.

"Oh my God," Sabrina said more clearly this time.

Ah. Audrey nodded. "I know! Something I didn't expect," she admitted. "But it was a great date."

"Did it end in bed?" Sabrina asked slyly.

"No." The word was simple and honest, and even now Audrey felt that jolt from Duncan's mouth. Softly she added, "But what a kiss."

"Wait a minute," Sabrina said, cutting off Audrey's memory of that incredible kiss. "Am I going to lose one of my best friends to the Brits?"

She shook her head, banishing the feel of Duncan's arms beneath her fingertips and hips, his mouth against hers. "No," she said. "After one date?" She shook her head. "No. This is just a fantasy, a holiday romance, but what a hell of a fantasy. And I intend to take full advantage of it!"

Tucking her legs beneath her, Audrey looked at her purchases and shrugged. She held up the blue negligée and smiled. Yes, she planned to take full advantage and indulge in her every fantasy.

"We're going out in an hour." She glanced at the clock and stood. Less than an hour, actually. "We're touring London, doing the sightseeing thing."

She talked with Sabrina for a bit longer before letting her friend get to work. Audrey would've liked to share her news with Eliza as well, but her other friend worked unreasonably early hours at the TV station and usually left for work around 4:30.

With a deep breath and a final glance at the clock, Audrey was dressed in a skirt that was just above the knee, black tights and boots, and a form-fitting V-neck sweater. She added more of the chunky jewelry she normally wore and a trench coat.

Feeling very British, she double-checked her makeup, took one last deep breath that did nothing to calm the anticipation at seeing Duncan again, and headed downstairs.

When she stepped off the elevator, she noticed Duncan already there, waiting for her. Audrey couldn't help her smile. Duncan offered his arm again and escorted her outside to the waiting black cab, with the same driver from last night. Not a coincidence, then.

"Is this the earl's limo?" she asked as he held the door open for her.

"No," he said when he slid in beside her. "Just thought it'd be more fun to do the whole tourist thing in a London taxi. Our own London taxi," he added with a wink.

Audrey glanced at his mouth and really tried very hard not to fantasize about what those lips would feel like on her skin. Blinking, she turned slightly on the seat as the cab pulled away.

"You spoil me." She laughed.

She didn't ask him where they were going; she didn't care, and it didn't matter.

"I must admit, I love my city," Duncan said, looking directly at her in that way that made her feel as if she was the only one who mattered. "But I rarely get out to enjoy London. Especially with such charming company."

"I know exactly what you mean," Audrey agreed. "I've lived in Manhattan for seven years and have yet to see Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty in person."

Duncan laughed, a warm sound that caressed her skin. "Isn't it amazing how there are so many beautiful things within our reach, and we hesitate to take full advantage of them?"

Audrey shivered at his words and tried her best not to read too much into them. She really did, but her imagination got away from her. Again. "He, or _she_ , who hesitates is a damn fool, and we're damn fools for not taking in the treasures in our own cities."

Mae West had said something about hesitation and fools, and Audrey always loved those sentiments.

"You're absolutely right," Duncan agreed with another smile. His gaze brightened with that smile, and Audrey's breath caught.

They went to the Tower of London first, took the tour, enjoyed the history, and had lunch from one of the sidewalk stands. Then they went to the London Eye and waited in line beneath a bright blue sky, with the breeze blowing over them as she commented on the height of the Eye.

She didn't outright say it, but Audrey was suddenly apprehensive about riding it to the top. Loathe as she was to admit it, and not normally prone to a fear of heights, looking up at it, she was uneasy. It was unbelievably huge, almost as imposing as a New York skyscraper.

Duncan never took his eyes off her, never looked around, never acted as if he'd rather be anywhere than with her. Audrey had a hard time remembering how to breathe, more from his undivided attention than the height of the London Eye, as the door opened and they entered the oblong capsule. They were alone, the only two in the capsule, but she didn't comment; she could imagine what he'd gone through to secure a private car on such short notice. He grabbed her hand and held her close to the windows as he pointed down.

His breath brushed her neck with every word, his body moving against her back as he shifted them to see whatever he pointed out. Audrey barely saw anything, despite her interest in what he was saying. Every ounce of self-restraint she possessed was focused on not turning and kissing him senseless. And it took a great deal of restraint, despite the fact they were the only two in the car.

At the pinnacle, Duncan pointed out a wharf area currently being revitalized. She half turned to make a comment to him about New York, but her breath caught and she forgot what New York had to do with anything. He watched her, not the stunning view or the wharf, but her. Once again, his entire focus rested on her; his eyes darkening to a stormy blue, he turned her to face him fully. He hesitated a fraction of a heartbeat, but Audrey didn't stop him. Every nerve screamed for his kiss, his touch. No way was she going to stop him.

His lips closed over hers, cool and soft. Duncan's hands cupped her cheeks, holding her still as he tasted her. Audrey shuddered, kissed him back, and forgot whatever inane thing she'd been about to say.

It didn't matter.

All that mattered was his mouth on hers and the sublime taste of him as she opened to his kiss. Audrey heard a whimper and somewhere in the back of her mind knew she'd made that sound, that needy, desperate sound, and didn't care. He deepened the kiss. Below her, London melted away, replaced by Duncan. Only Duncan.

She didn't remember their descent. Hell, when they exited the London Eye, Audrey could barely remember her name. Aroused, hot, and wanting very much to feel his naked body against hers, she took the hand he offered and tried not to look like a dazed schoolgirl who'd just had her first kiss.

But it was a hell of a kiss!

# Chapter Four

"Hungry?" he asked, far too casually for her spinning head and screaming nerves.

"After that kiss?" Audrey responded, her voice only slightly breathless. She looked up at him and brushed her lips over his once again. "Starved."

Duncan's smile sent warm tendrils of need winding through her blood. Audrey looked up at him and saw him swallow several times, subtly clearing his throat. Good. Not as unaffected as he'd have her believe, then. _She_ certainly wasn't unaffected!

"We could stop for some dinner," Duncan offered. The look in his stormy eyes showed her just how that kiss affected him. Inordinately pleased, Audrey smiled up at him, a slow pull of her lips that was full of promise.

"Yes," she managed, pleased when her voice sounded as casual as his. It took effort, a great effort of willpower, but she smiled up at him and added in that same casual tone, "Yes, we do need to satisfy our hunger."

The look Duncan gave her was enough to make her forget about dinner and agree to anything he said—his place, her hotel, the nearest tree. All of the above. It didn't matter. But then he took her hand, tugged her to his side, and purposely strode to the nearest restaurant.

The cold breeze did little to cool her heated cheeks, but she could do nothing about it except hope he didn't notice. When she envisioned her vacation in London, she hadn't envisioned this.

This was so much better than what she'd had planned.

They ate an early dinner near Hyde Park then walked through the art fair there. She had no idea who any of the artists were but enjoyed the evening; the sun had long since set and the spring evening was cool, the breeze adding more than a hint of nip. They passed the Speakers' Corner, an open-air debate area, near Tyburn, where, Duncan informed her, a gallows once stood.

Old-fashioned Victorian lights illuminated the area, and Duncan tugged her onto a bench just out of a pool of light. He wrapped his arm around her, and they watched people walking along the path. She settled against him and closed her eyes.

"Today has been the most fun I've had in a long time," Audrey admitted. "But, I can't imagine that the Earl of Thornhill has a full day during the week to waste on entertaining a tourist from New York."

"Audrey," he said with a slight chuckle, "trust me. There was nothing wasted about today." He moved, his body shifting against hers. She tried not to moan. Then his lips brushed her cheek and sent a shiver through her.

"I haven't enjoyed myself like this in ages." He hadn't moved back, and his voice whispered over her skin. Audrey turned her head just a little. His eyes were shadowed in the darkness, but his mouth was there, _right there_. "I particularly enjoyed our mucking up the traffic warden's business."

Audrey laughed at the memory. She had no idea why the British called them traffic wardens; as far as she could tell, they were New York meter maids. But a traffic warden sounded far more serious than a _meter maid_ , like the head of the prison. With a conspiratorial laugh, she'd dutifully distracted the warden guy with a roll of her ample hips and a slight view of her cleavage while Duncan slipped coins into the meter. When Duncan rescued her and pulled her away, she hadn't missed the scowl he'd given the traffic warden as he wrapped his fingers around hers and tugged her close.

"Yeah," she agreed, her voice breathless. "And I see we're both a little naughty."

His lips were cool from their day, and tasted of the wine he'd had with their dinner. Audrey deepened the kiss, wrapped her arms around his neck, and simply felt. Her body hummed with need, clawing for release. She'd felt it all day, the burning arousal Duncan ignited, and now, with his hands on her hips, his mouth teasing hers, she thought she'd explode.

"I'd like to be more than just a little naughty," Duncan admitted.

The words caressed her lips, and she shuddered in his arms. Before she could respond or even think about forming a response, his mouth was on hers again. He deepened the kiss, blocking out everything but him. Her entire body was focused on him, on his taste, on the feel of his hands on her cheeks, his thumbs brushing her skin.

"So would I," Audrey confessed in a voice that was barely a whisper.

He stood and held out his hand, his eyes still shadowed. Without hesitation, Audrey took it. She didn't know where they headed as they walked through the park, and she didn't care. She knew where this was headed. Knew and wanted him.

Oh, she definitely wanted.

Need clawed through her, and it took quite a bit of focus not to walk faster. Or beg him to take her against a tree. Need shot into white-hot want, and Audrey bit her lip as her blood screamed through her, and a moan threatened to escape.

It wasn't a long walk, technically, but Audrey felt every step of the distance between that bench and wherever Duncan led them. His place, she assumed.

Not only did every step make her ache to feel Duncan's touch, his hands on her, his mouth caressing her skin, but each step made her even more grateful she'd bought new lingerie. Audrey licked her lips and Duncan's fingers twined around hers; with tonight's promise still lingering on her lips, he tasted of spice, an erotic memory she wanted to taste some more.

Audrey was never one to second-guess herself; she preferred to live in the moment and take whatever came at her. Today with Duncan had made her wonder if this really was all a fantasy. She'd had one-night stands and semi-long-term boyfriends; she'd had lousy sex and sex that made her scream for more.

But she'd never, ever, not once forgotten her name from a simple kiss. Though that kiss had been anything but simple. It made her feel as if she'd never been kissed before, the way his tongue slid over hers, the way his hands had held her so carefully, as if holding himself back from taking her against the glass in the London Eye.

Then again, she'd never had an earl, either, though she doubted there was a correlation between the word _earl_ and a kiss that made her forget her name.

They didn't talk as they walked, though butterflies knotted themselves in her stomach. A little of the heat ebbed as nerves and doubt replaced her clawing need. Those butterflies started a series of unwanted acrobatics, and Audrey swallowed hard against the doubt.

She was all confident and proud of her curves in bed with the random photographer or bartender from club whatever, but Duncan...

Audrey swallowed and snuck a glance at him. His fingers held hers no less tightly, and the harsh light of the streetlamps still showed the raw need on his face. When he turned to her, his eyes remained shadowed, but they caught hers with such intensity, such primal want, her breath caught.

He really did look like he wanted to take her against the closest tree.

Duncan was a billionaire earl. For the previous couple of days, she'd tried to convince herself this was a fantasy straight out of a romantic movie, one she could indulge in. Right at this moment, as they crossed a street, Audrey couldn't help but feel she wasn't quite what he'd been used to.

Was this him indulging in a novelty? A woman with curves instead of straight lines and a perfect smile?

Audrey took another deep breath to steady her nerves and scatter those annoying butterflies. They crossed another street and came up to one of the most breathtaking buildings she'd ever seen in London. In a city that prided itself on its historical architecture, this one stood out. One long block, at least a couple hundred years old, it looked like a museum or a government building. But Duncan waved at the guard and continued forward.

Those stupid butterflies returned. No. Audrey took a deep breath of the cold evening air and tossed her head back just a little, in defiance of her own thoughts. Mae wouldn't be intimidated; neither would she. _Enjoy your curves, Audrey, and so will Duncan_.

He tapped in the code to the door and ushered her in. Her shoes echoed loudly on the marble floor, and when he flicked the lights on, Audrey's breath caught.

"Wow." It was pretty much all she could manage as she gazed at the expanse of marble flooring in the large foyer. Flushing a little at the obvious response to seeing a foyer that looked part museum, she cleared her throat and looked up at Duncan.

He closed the door carelessly behind him, not bothering to look at it. "Wow indeed," he agreed. But he wasn't looking at the foyer or at anything else in what she now believed to be his townhouse.

He looked directly at her.

Audrey swallowed hard and finally saw his brilliant blue eyes in the light. A storm blew through them, hot and arousing, as he looked at her.

"Why, Lord Thornhill," she said in what she fervently hoped was a sassy tone. "I can see the indecency in your eyes."

He stepped closer, his hands on her hips. "All the better to see you with." His voice flowed over her like warm honey, and she couldn't help the shiver.

"I can feel your hands on my hips." Her throat tightened with need, but she continued their game.

His hand squeezed her hips slowly, slowly moving his hands up so his thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts. Audrey's breath caught, and she tried not to sway into him.

"All the better to explore you with." Duncan's voice dropped lower, his thumbs teasing her, his eyes promising wicked, wicked things.

Audrey forgot how to breathe and wondered if it was possible to have an orgasm from the sound of Duncan's seductive promises. She was willing to experiment to find out.

"I can feel your breath on my neck," Audrey whispered. All willpower gone, she swayed against him.

He leaned closer, his breath hot against her cheek, lips brushing over her skin. "All the better to tease you with."

His lips trailed over her cheek, along her jaw, down her throat. That needy whimper came from her, and Audrey didn't care.

"All the better to taste you with," Duncan said, his teeth scraping over her sensitive skin.

Audrey melted. She might have felt like Little Red Riding Hood if she hadn't felt so wolfish herself.

Maybe it really was possible to climax from the sound of his voice. She'd love to find out, but really, _really_ wanted to feel his skin against hers, his mouth on her, his fingers bringing her pleasure.

His teeth nipped at the base of her neck, his tongue gentle over it. She whimpered again, and the hands that had gripped his arms suddenly moved to tangle themselves in his hair. She wanted to taste him again, wanted to feel his lips against hers.

Pulling her to him, Audrey took. In the middle of the marbled foyer of a museum, she didn't care and kissed him. She nibbled on his lower lip and licked along said lip to taste him, to savor him for just a heartbeat.

Duncan growled, a low primal sound that made her stomach clench in need, every thought but taking him deep inside her flew right from her head. His hands combed through her wind-blown hair, trapping her against him. He angled the kiss deeper, sweeping his tongue against hers and backing her up.

Audrey's heel hit something, and she broke the kiss. Looking behind her, she saw the stairs, where Duncan obviously led her. She shook her head, struggling for words. The stairs no doubt led to his bedroom, but it would take entirely too long to get there.

"Too far," she muttered and looked to the left where a door led to what had to be a parlor or living room, or a room equally convenient and close. "I want you now."

Duncan said something that sounded very much like an agreement. Before she could find her senses, scattered as they were along the floor, Duncan had maneuvered them into the front parlor. Two lamps lit the room, casting fingers of light across the sofa.

Audrey was certain the room was a beautiful display of antiques and money but couldn't quite care enough to stop tasting Duncan and look. She didn't care about his money, didn't care about the house he lived in, and at the moment she didn't care he was an earl.

He was a man who kissed her like she was the only woman in the world he ever wanted to kiss, and she took that.

Took it and savored it, shoving his coat off his shoulders, unbuttoning the pair of buttons that held his suit jacket together, uncaring where his clothes fell so long as they revealed more of his delectable body to her touch.

Her blood raced through her, hot with arousal. Her entire body clenched in need as Duncan's fingers slipped beneath her sweater and caressed up her sides and over her lace-covered breasts. Her nipples hard and aching for his mouth, Audrey moaned his name and arched into his touch.

Before she could blink, Duncan tugged her sweater over her head and tossed it behind him. Then he stared at her—no. He didn't just stare. He drank her in as if she was his sole source of water and he'd been too thirsty for too long.

She moved to cover herself. Suddenly self-conscious in the light of the parlor as he watched so intently, as if he'd never stop, she tried to take a step back. Out of the light, away from his hungry gaze.

So much for embracing her curves.

This time she knew the flush on her face had more to do with embarrassment and less to do with arousal. When had she last been so insecure?

Before she could answer her own question, a flash of anger crossed Duncan's face. His lips thinned, and the storm in his eyes nearly broke.

"Don't." One word, a command.

But his hands were gentle as he wrapped his fingers around her wrists and tugged her arms away from her. Feeling unbearably foolish, Audrey sucked in a deep breath and wondered if pushing Duncan to the floor and having her way with him would make him forget her momentary awkwardness.

He wasn't having any of that. As gently as his fingers held her wrists, his mouth pressed to hers. He retraced his path down her neck, nipping at the same spot between shoulder and neck that made her knees week.

"Don't hide yourself," he said against her skin. Audrey shuddered at the sound of his voice, the honeyed promise.

His fingers brushed her bra strap aside, lips following its path. He kissed along her shoulder, his teeth nibbling as his tongue tasted her skin. His fingers skimmed over her shoulders and down her back, unhooking her bra, only to toss it aside. He cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her already hard nipples.

Audrey forgot how to breathe, let alone why she should be embarrassed.

His fingers were gentle, but she felt the suppressed passion with every touch, in the way he captured her nipples between finger and thumb, in the way his teeth tugged one aching nipple into his warm mouth.

She gasped his name and with that, all thoughts of insecurity, of shutting out the lights or of tugging off her panties but keeping her clothes on, fled from her mind.

Her fingers found the buttons on his shirt and she quickly undid them, pushing the material off his shoulders, only to have it caught on his wrists. She had a brief thought of using that shirt to tie him up so she could have her way with him, but then his hands were on the waistband of her skirt and he was kneeling before her, peeling the material away from her skin.

His fingers brushed her bare skin, his mouth kissing down her inner thigh as he slowly undressed her. Audrey blinked and watched him, one hand automatically resting on the top of his head as he kissed back up her inner thigh. She shuddered, unable to find the words but so desperate to feel him inside her.

She wanted to taste him, wanted to undress him as he'd done her and lick her way down that incredible body of his. But then his mouth kissed her wet heat, and Audrey swore she saw stars.

When she opened her eyes again and looked down, his gaze held hers. She'd never seen such need, such naked lust in another's gaze, and it made her want to feel every single inch of that against her.

"Duncan," she breathed.

Whatever he heard in her voice, the storm in his blue eyes broke. He growled again, and the sound shot straight through her. He'd moved his mouth from her core, and his fingers no longer teased her entrance but now brushed over her hips.

Before she could moan at the loss, he'd shucked his shoes and socks and pulled her against him. Audrey ran her hands over his naked chest, wondered when he'd gotten rid of the shirt, and leaned over to taste him. His taste exploded over her tongue and straight through her. Her hands went to his belt and button on his pants, desperate to feel him against her.

Once free, she took a deep breath, tried desperately to find some measure of control, and looked at him. Muscles she'd only dreamed about begged for her touch. Her fingers ached to feel his skin, run over his hips, caress his cock.

She licked her lips, but before she could kneel before him and assuage her curiosity about what he felt like, what he tasted like, Duncan laid her on the floor. His hands were rough on her hips—just the right kind of rough to make her cry out. His mouth bit down her belly, and Audrey forgot why she'd wanted to make love to him in the dark.

She'd never have been able to see his dark head between her legs if she'd somehow managed to get those lamps out.

Duncan teased her, kissed her hips, stroked her inner thighs, his fingers brushing and teasing over her nub. Audrey cried out, her hands tangled in his hair, and swore she begged.

She didn't care. Not even when she heard his chuckle, a low, erotic sound that curled around her with such pleasure she knew she'd climax right there. And wanted to.

But he teased her, his fingers driving her higher and higher, only to pull back and tease her breasts and pinch her nipples until she did beg.

"Duncan," she moaned, wanting to feel him inside her, wanting to straddle him and ride him until her orgasm exploded over her.

Audrey felt him leave her, and she rose up on her elbows to see what the hell he was doing. He muttered to himself, words she couldn't make out, then came back with a condom and a triumphant look on his face.

Before she could be glad one of them was thinking clearly, he'd entered her. Audrey screamed his name as her orgasm finally, finally broke. He moved, not giving her a chance to recover, with hard, deep thrusts that filled her. She bent her knees, her nails digging into his shoulders and her hips meeting every hard movement.

"More," she moaned. She kissed down his neck, her tongue licking his scent off his skin as he continued to move deep within her.

Her orgasm built again, spiraling up and out of control so fast that Audrey couldn't contain it. Then it shattered over, around, through her. Her mouth clamped down on Duncan's shoulder as she rode out the pleasure, the unbearable bliss.

She felt more than heard his own shout of release, her name as it tumbled off his tongue, and she opened her eyes. He watched her, as he had since last night, his attention focused only on her.

Breathing heavily, her brain foggy with her orgasm and the taste of Duncan on her tongue, Audrey lifted a hand to brush his cheek.

# Chapter Five

The rug was soft and plush beneath Audrey. She moved slightly, trying to feel her limbs. No use—her body continued to hum with pleasure; she could still taste Duncan's kiss on her lips, and even as sated and boneless as she felt, she wanted him again.

Swallowing, she licked her lips and wondered at that last thought.

This was her vacation, her English holiday, and she hadn't exactly planned on sleeping with anyone, let alone doing it again. When they'd kissed in the park, Audrey had thought this would be a one-off, a one-night stand.

Duncan's eyes were closed in the dimness of the parlor and his breath even, but she knew he wasn't asleep. Her head rested on his chest, the slow rise and fall of him lulling her eyes closed and keeping her body pliant and boneless still. He wasn't bulked up with muscles but well-toned beneath her, solid and delectable.

His fingers absently ran down her side and over her hip, not enough to arouse, just enough to make her want to turn and discover how much more those talented fingers of his could do. Audrey wanted to straddle him and taste every hard inch of him. Her eyes drifted close and her mouth curved against his chest at the thought.

He'd tugged his suit jacket over them, and looked to be in no hurry whatsoever to move. Her right leg curled over his, bare and naked in the lamplight, and her stomach was pressed to his side. Looking down his body to where hers pressed against Duncan, Audrey felt exposed and naked—and not merely in a no-clothing way.

Chubby and exposed, she decided as she tried to figure out how to pull her sweater over from wherever it had landed so she could cover herself. Yes, she felt exposed and chubby. Duncan's fingers continued to trace her hip, down to the top of her thigh, then back up. With each movement of his fingers, Audrey's desperation to find her sweater increased.

If she moved, then he'd open his eyes and see her. Look at her and really study her. Not that he hadn't already when his mouth had tasted her, and his fingers had explored her rather generous curves. But that had been in the height of passion and hot, really hot, and totally worth it sex.

Now it was after. And after never worked out so well for her.

So she stayed where she was, caught between wanting to run back to her hotel, chalk today up to a great memory and wait out the rest of the days of her vacation, and staying here, curled into Duncan's side and licking her way down his body until she'd memorized it.

Audrey looked down his body again, the lean hips and strong thighs. No, not a bulked-up Vin Diesel, not that there was anything wrong with Vin Diesel, but nice and firm. She ran her fingers over his chest, felt the strength there, and wondered why he'd done this.

She knew why she had—it wasn't hard not to want Duncan Collins. He was smart, funny, understood a good innuendo, and made her toes curl with only a kiss, and her heart skipped a beat with his sexy smile. No, he wasn't like any of her previous lovers who were more along the less muscled, more rounded side.

So why her?

She wasn't his normal type, not if what she knew about the previous women he'd had on his arm was true. Why her? Something a little different? He hadn't moved or rolled off her, given her a quick grin or knowing wink, and pretended none of today had ever happened. No, he lay beneath her, his body warm against hers, his hand caressing her side.

She wanted to ask but couldn't bring herself to. For all her Mae West quoting and sassy winking self, Audrey didn't have the confidence to ask serious questions. "Why sleep with a fat woman?" was never leaving her lips.

"I'm sure there are a bevy of sassy broads here in London," Audrey started, lifting herself up a little to see him better. See him better and put a little, just a little, distance between their bodies. "What made you want this sassy American?"

Duncan opened his eyes and looked up at her. She couldn't read his gaze; his thoughts were quite expertly hidden behind the mask he presented the world. But his mouth curved into a slow smile that made her skin tingle. "I was smitten by your red lips," he said softly, the pad of his thumb running over her bottom lip.

Audrey's breath caught, and she tried to remember the thread of the conversation. "Then any girl with a tube of crimson can snag you," she said with a smile. But her voice caught, and his fingers went from simply grazing her skin to erotically caressing her.

One of his eyebrows raised and his tone changed, more serious though he didn't look angry or upset. "Not any girl," he said slowly, thumb still on her lips. "Just you."

She returned his smile, skin tingling from his touch, mouth throbbing for his kiss. Audrey swallowed hard and fought herself for serious, not sassy.

"So what do you do when you're not romancing sassy Americans?" she wondered. It was only then she realized her nails flicked over his nipple and her leg shifted further over his thighs.

His fingers moved from her lips to her cheek, a brush over her skin before tangling in her hair. He held her still as if afraid she'd jump up and run.

"I work," he said quietly. "Spend a little time in the country then work some more." He pulled her closer, her body more firmly over his. "What about you?" he wondered, thumb still brushing lightly over her cheek.

The jacket slid off them, exposing her to his gaze. His hungry gaze never left hers and she felt his arousal against her. Audrey swallowed and wanted to move over him, but held still. His words, his gaze, captured her.

"You must go out with a number of American financiers, playboys, and cowboys." His voice washed over her and it took several heartbeats for Audrey to fully understand what his words meant.

"Oh yes," she said with a slight laugh—slightly breathless, slightly nervous. "We have a terrible problem with cowboys in Central Park. They hitch their horses just everywhere."

"Yes." He nodded in mock seriousness. "I can see how that can be a problem. They must be fighting the taxis for parking spaces."

Audrey snorted a laugh at his words, but couldn't look away from him. Her body refused to move, and she had difficulty catching her breath. She pulled back just a little. "Yes, and now every New York restaurant has spittoons."

His hand dropped away. "Tell me," he said, all joking erased from his voice. "What's it really like for you in New York?"

Audrey cleared her throat and removed her leg from his thighs. She sat up and pulled his jacket from where it'd fallen, forgotten, and covered herself with it. Duncan leaned up on his elbows and watched her.

"It's great," she said with genuine enthusiasm. "My two roommates are also my best friends."

"Tell me about them," he insisted. He didn't remove his jacket but ran his hands over her knees so they rested on her thighs.

Blinking, she tried to ignore his touch. "Sabrina is a VP at Gideon Hotels, and Eliza is a TV and film producer."

"Sounds exciting," Duncan said, his thumbs brushing along her inner thigh. "You three sound like a force of nature."

Audrey laughed. "Yes," she agreed and turned. "At least we like to think so."

There. She finally spotted her sweater and leaned away from Duncan's touch, his too-intense gaze, his complete focus, and tugged the sweater, the barrier, over her head. His hands didn't move; his thumbs still brushed her skin, but at least she felt somewhat covered.

"What about you and your friends?" she asked. But Duncan frowned at her, his blue eyes flickering over her sweater then back to her gaze.

"I only have a couple really good friends," he said, one hand moving from her thigh to brush her hair off her face. "Most everyone else I know is a business associate, friendly social acquaintances." He stopped, and a dark look flashed across his face. "Or family members who want something."

She nodded and twined one of his hands with hers in a flash of sympathy. "I can understand that," she whispered with more understanding than she meant to show. "I bet you've had people wanting something from you all your life."

Duncan shrugged, but she didn't see the brush-off she knew he'd meant. No, she saw the annoyance, the hurt, the wall he'd built around himself. She understood all about walls.

"It's only been a problem the last ten years or so, once I built up the name again. Before that I was what you might call penniless."

Surprised, Audrey's fingers tightened on his. She didn't know anything about his past, his family, other than the philanthropic gestures associated with the name. Really, Audrey should know better than to assume anything, even about rich, titled Englishmen; assumptions had been made about her all her life and she'd fought hard against them.

"Yup," Duncan said to her reaction. "The earls before me were very poor managers."

"You're even more impressive," she said then grinned. "And I was already completely floored."

He laughed as she'd meant him to and glanced at the floor they had so recently used. But his focus never left her, and his thumb stroked the back of her hand. That touch, the simple stroke of his thumb, she found more intimate than when he'd touched her thighs.

"Perhaps I can _floor_ you again, Audrey," he said through a very wolfish grin.

Flushed with arousal, Audrey didn't have time to nod, not that she'd planned on disagreeing. His mouth met hers with a slow, thorough kiss that sent shocks of need sparking over her skin wherever Duncan touched. His hands slipped beneath the sweater, slowly pushing it over her head to once more bare her to his gaze.

She swallowed, but the heat in his sharp blue gaze stifled all protests, and when he kissed her again, his mouth still a gently caressing taste, his fingers teasing her nipples, Audrey surrendered.

# Chapter Six

Once again that day, Audrey rushed through the hotel lobby and up to her room, still floating on the high that spending time with Duncan seemed to induce. Earlier today, Duncan had dropped her off after a leisurely breakfast and slow kisses she was certain were meant to keep her in his townhouse. Ohh, a prisoner in the earl's townhouse. Yes, she could most definitely deal with that.

Audrey grabbed the door handle to her hotel room harder than necessary and flung it open, her body warm with arousal and a very strong desire to drag him up to this room and explore his body once again.

The door slammed closed behind her.

Racing to the couch, she pushed memories of their relaxing day at the theater to the back of her mind and looked for something appropriate to wear tonight. When he'd dropped her off earlier, she hadn't planned for dinner; she had only showered and changed in record time before he'd returned from the office to pick her up.

Duncan hadn't told her where he'd made reservations, so she quickly dressed in the red dress she'd bought yesterday, one that clung to her curves and skimmed her knees. Had it really been only yesterday? Audrey stopped and blinked as she stared down at her dress. Yesterday.

It felt as if she'd known him a hell of a lot longer than that. As if she'd spent so much more time with him. The way he'd explored her body last night hadn't been the awkward fumbling of a one-night stand. He'd kissed her, touched her, as if...as if what?

Audrey shook her head and smoothed the dress over her hips. This was a holiday romance, and she knew that. Just because Duncan's kisses turned her knees to jelly and made her forget even her own name, what day of the week it was, and that this was only a fantasy didn't make them more than that.

She retreated to the bathroom and checked her hair and makeup, reapplied her lipstick, and shook off thoughts about this ending. This time next week she'd be back in New York, and this would be only a pleasant memory of a wonderful few days spent with Duncan. Well, maybe more than pleasant, and even now her body responded to the thought of feeling him against her. So she'd have more than a pleasant memory and a fantastic story to tell about touring London with an earl.

And there was nothing bad about that.

Washing her hands, Audrey frowned at her reflection. She didn't care that Duncan was an earl. Hell, she didn't even care about his money. He made her laugh. She almost wished he was a penniless actor. They never had money. But if Duncan had been, maybe there'd be a chance at something more between them.

What did it matter? If he'd been anything other than a billionaire earl, would it have mattered? Would she have dragged him back to New York with her to try for more than this holiday romance? No, not any more than she'd stay here.

And why was she thinking in that direction? Even if he'd been a penniless actor this was a fantasy, and the sooner she remembered that herself, the better. It was how he viewed it; Audrey was certain of that. How else should she look at their affair? He lived in London, and she lived in New York.

Plain and simple.

Back in the bedroom of the Gideon Hotel, Audrey looked at the neatly made bed. Her clothes were still strewn over the couch but the bed sat there, untouched. She sank onto it and realized she hadn't enjoyed herself this much in ages. Not really, not so...unguardedly.

Last night they'd eventually made it upstairs and to his bedroom. This morning, he'd made her scream his name more than once, and she hadn't wanted to leave his arms afterward. She'd dozed, wrapped around him, and had woken to the feel of his mouth on her breast. The absolute most pleasant way she'd ever woken, hands down.

Once again, Duncan had made her forget her inhibitions, everything that made her self-conscious. It'd been only the two of them in that bed and not the phantom ménage partner—that insidious little voice that constantly reminded her of every single flaw and each extra pound. No. It was just she and Duncan in that bed, which surprised her, but it also made her feel like she was enough.

He'd made her breakfast and they'd made plans for the day—a day at the theater with a full dress rehearsal for a play one of his friends had produced, and then a bit more wandering about London. And Audrey had enjoyed herself more than she'd imagined. It wasn't the behind-the-scenes look; it wasn't meeting one of his friends. It was spending time with Duncan and how wickedly seductive he was at every turn.

A look sent her heart racing; a brush of his hand against hers made her look for the nearest private alcove.

She blinked and pushed all that to the back of her mind. He'd promised her a sensual dinner tonight, one she'd never forget, and Audrey was determined to have fun. And him afterward, she vowed, slipping on a pair of black heels. Definitely him. For as long as this holiday romance lasted.

When she returned to the lobby, she saw Duncan waiting for her. Her smile was instant, and she knew it brightened her entire face, hiding none of her emotion. Audrey didn't care and immediately took the hand he held out for her.

"Where are we going?" she asked again.

"I thought I'd surprise you." His smile curled her toes, and he led her outside into the cool spring evening. "Keep it a mystery." And the words brushed seductively over her skin like the faintest of promises.

She looked at him curiously but nodded slowly. "Very well," she said in her best British accent, which wasn't very good. "But if we're dining with the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, I'm very underdressed."

He laughed with a rich, low sound that did nothing to make her want dinner instead of him. "I can arrange that."

Startled, Audrey laughed and climbed into the London cab Duncan had hired to take them around the city.

"After I dropped you off earlier, I had an errand to run." He turned, his hand still wrapped around hers. "It was a very difficult errand, but I managed. It's my understanding," he continued, and she wondered what the hell he was talking about, "that they use this symbol amongst each other."

"Okay," she said, drawing the word out. But Duncan's smile danced around the edges of his mouth, and she couldn't help returning it.

"Next time," he said, pulling something out of his pocket, "I'd prefer you show them this as opposed to distracting them in other ways."

Frowning, Audrey still returned his smile and held out her hand. Duncan opened his hand to reveal a traffic warden badge. Laughing, she took it from him and slipped the clip over her bodice, securing it directly between her cleavage. Duncan's gaze rested on the badge, his hand brushing along the top of her bodice.

Audrey shuddered at his touch, the faint brush over her skin enough to harden her nipples and make her forget all about dinner. Swallowing, she met his gaze. Even in the dimness of the cab, she saw his blue eyes flare with want, and she swallowed again, struggling to catch her breath.

Before she had the chance to act on the urge to kiss him, shag him in the back of the cab, or talk herself out of both, the car pulled to a stop and the driver opened her door.

The wind blew cold around her, and Audrey tugged her thin coat closer around her body. Not to huddle from the cold, but to hide her body's reaction to his teasing touch. No, the wind felt wonderful on her heated skin, but it did little to actually cool her.

Audrey waited for Duncan to round the car before looking up at the restaurant. Shadows Restaurant was a typical building, with wide stone steps and double doors. Duncan's hand settled on the small of her back as they walked up the steps, and she leaned into his touch. Inside the small lobby, the hostess greeted them with a wide smile and rounded the podium she'd stood behind. A pair of what Audrey swore were night-vision goggles bumped against her leg.

Frowning at that, Audrey glanced around the entrance and noticed a wall of floor-to-ceiling numbered lockers. She turned back to Duncan as the hostess welcomed them to Shadows.

"It's a very unique experience here in London and actually quite a feat to get this reservation," Duncan said with that same mysterious smile he'd worn since picking her up. "Dining in complete darkness," he whispered, his breath brushing her ear.

She shivered at the touch then forced herself to concentrate on his actual words. "Darkness?" she repeated.

Duncan pulled back and nodded. "We leave our mobiles, jackets, purses—anything that might be a source of illumination—in the lockers." He nodded to the lockers behind her, but Audrey didn't bother to look at them again.

Arousal pooled low in her belly, and she forced herself not to shudder in anticipation at the look in his eyes. His hand still held hers, his thumb brushing smoothly between thumb and forefinger, and her own fingers clenched around his. She swallowed and tried to find her voice.

"How...?" She stopped and cleared her throat before trying again. "How are we supposed to read the menu out here?"

She tried to ask sensible questions, but all she could think about was the upcoming erotic experience of eating in the dark with Duncan. Audrey blinked and tried to look away from his hot blue gaze, but couldn't.

"You can pick fish, meat, or vegetarian," he said softly. The hostess waited as unobtrusively as possible. Audrey was dimly aware of the other woman and wondered if she'd seen this kind of reaction before. "Everything else," Duncan continued, "we discover ourselves. In the dark."

They both chose the fish, and the hostess assigned them a locker and gave them the key, which Duncan slipped into his pocket. The other woman stepped to the closed door by her station, adjusted the goggles over her head, and took both their hands. She walked with confidence as she led them to their table. Audrey could hear the low buzz of conversation as they walked, and she tried to keep up with the hostess's confident step.

Suddenly they'd stopped, and she felt the woman's hands guiding her into her seat. The room was pitch black, and when Audrey looked up to where she swore the woman stood, she saw nothing. Not even the woman's form was outlined in shadow—it was that dark.

Hence, Audrey thought as she felt Duncan's legs stretch across to where she sat perfectly still, the name of the restaurant. She scooted her chair closer to the table, bumped it slightly, and then felt Duncan's hand reach across to clasp hers, and she relaxed.

"You're right," she whispered, the atmosphere automatically keeping her voice quiet. "This is a unique experience. I can't see you at all," she said with a slight laugh, "and I know you're right in front of me."

"The lack of sight heightens your other senses." Duncan's voice drifted over her, sensual and erotic in the dark. Audrey shivered at the sound, the promise in his tone. "What I'm enjoying right now is how delicious your scent is and how sweet you taste."

He kissed her, his mouth hard and hungry on hers as he unerringly found her across the table. Audrey whimpered as she kissed him back, her free hand combing through his hair. Duncan pulled back and despite the face she knew he couldn't see her, Audrey felt as if he studied her, seeking all her secrets.

She swallowed and tried to think of something to say that wasn't _Let's go back to your place._

A subtlety cleared throat jerked her back to reality, and she suddenly remembered they were in a restaurant, darkened as it may have been, and climbing over the table to straddle Duncan probably wasn't the best idea. It could wait until they got back to his place. Maybe, she thought, wryly.

The wait would only make her want him more.

The silent waiter set their first plates down, and so began the most erotic meal of her life. Erotic and fun. Oh, it was so fun to quietly giggle with Duncan over their meal, each trying to discern what they were eating. And to feel him. Audrey had never been so utterly aware of anyone in her entire life as she was of Duncan as they sat in that dark restaurant and ate.

That awareness wound through her, pricking at her skin like a brush of his teasing fingers. Her nipples ached for the feel of his teeth, her body for the touch of his skin.

# Chapter Seven

_This is such a girly thing_ , Audrey thought as she breathed deeply of the pillow that still carried Duncan's scent.

But she'd stayed in bed most of the morning after he'd left to take care of a few things in the office, perfectly content to breathe in the scent of him—of them. Stretching, with a silly smile on her face she refused to wipe off, Audrey finally got out of bed and decided to start her day.

Duncan had to go into work to deal with several things, and she refused to pout like a teenager until he'd changed his mind, stayed in bed with her all day, and ignored the office. It wasn't as if their time together had been planned; their affair was entirely spur of the moment, and she definitely understood the grind of work. So she showered and dressed and ordered a leisurely breakfast, though she supposed it was closer to brunch now.

There was nothing on TV except a 24-hour BBC news station, and she still hadn't heard back from Duncan. Audrey shrugged and gathered her coat and purse. She needed another sexy dress for dinner tonight and decided to spend a little time wandering around London, just to see what wasn't on the tourist maps.

Humming happily to herself, she took the elevator to the lobby and stepped into the slightly overcast, breezy day.

Aimlessly wandering the London streets, Audrey found herself in front of the hat shop the Duchess of Cambridge used. When she'd planned her extended stay in London, and Sabrina comped her hotel suite, this store had been one of the places she'd wanted to visit—as a stylist, of course. She laughed to herself and slowed in front of the windows.

Her gaze roamed restlessly over the window display, but she couldn't force herself to go inside. Moving her shoulders to try and shake off the impatient tension knotting there, Audrey kept walking. She didn't want a hat—she wanted Duncan.

London just wasn't the same without her own personal earl as her tour guide.

She couldn't believe how lucky she'd been to meet Duncan, to accept his invitation to dinner. Even if she'd questioned it, and him, at first. These few days had been quite pleasurable, and for a brief moment, Audrey wondered what it'd be like to stick around longer than she'd intended. She walked faster with that thought, as if trying to escape it, but it refused to be shaken.

They'd been together for only a few days, and despite the toe-curling kisses and the fantastic sex, it still had only been a few days. A handful of dates and days spent wandering London hand in hand. And now she missed him.

Yesterday, she hadn't enough time between him dropping her off to shower and change and him picking her up again to really miss him. Today, with the morning spread behind her and the afternoon empty ahead of her, Audrey found it difficult not to second-guess herself. Well, second-guess pretty much everything about the two of them.

After the scrumptious and incredibly erotic dinner at Shadows, they'd planned to simply gather a few of her things and return to Duncan's townhouse. It hadn't worked quite like that, and she knew they'd woken the neighbors when he'd pushed her against the wall, all tongue and teeth, and taken her so hard and fast, Audrey had screamed her orgasm before he'd even entered her. She'd screamed his name several times after that, as well.

Even now her blood pumped hot through her, her breath short, her mind thinking of all the wicked things she could do to him with her fingers and tongue alone.

Audrey cleared her throat and stopped at a small bakery to buy a cup of coffee. She wanted a cold shower, but didn't want to return to her hotel room just yet. Slipping her cell out from her purse, she looked for a text or call from him, but nothing. She frowned at the blank display and put it in an outside pocket so she'd hear it when he did call.

Oh, she had it bad.

Walking slowly along the streets, she tried to look around, to see the city for what it was. To do to London what she'd never done in New York and really experience the city.

But all she could think about was Duncan. He'd left her that morning with a lingering kiss and a promise he'd wrap up his work by early afternoon and they could spend another day together.

As the minutes passed and she received not even a text from him that he'd been caught up with work, she faltered.

The afternoon sun hid behind the buildings, casting uneven shadows on the street. She'd left the hotel late, and now it was approaching four. She looked at her phone again, but there was still nothing from Duncan. _Was this it, then?_ she wondered, with the knot in her stomach tightening. _The inevitable brush-off?_

Work had always been a convenient excuse. Damn it. Audrey preferred to be the one to walk away first; it'd always been best. Best for her. That way, she walked away on her terms, and she definitely preferred a good breakup on her terms rather than his. Oh, but this was stupid of her.

This was a fantasy; she'd always known that. And Duncan had probably been living out some stupid chubby-girl fantasy. He'd wanted a full-bodied woman with boobs and hips after those stick figures he'd dated.

Stopping at a corner, Audrey looked at her phone one last time, the screen still blank of any message from Duncan, and hailed a cab. She tried not to think about Duncan on the drive back, tried not to remember her almost giddy anticipation as she'd kissed him goodbye this morning.

Paying the driver, she absently waved to the concierge on duty and headed for the elevators. A man infatuated—even infatuated with the undeniable lust between them—didn't ignore the girl all day, did he?

The door slammed behind her, and though she hated herself for doing it, Audrey looked at the hotel's phone, but no message light blinked at her. The sheets had been changed and the bed made, and the towels Duncan had used this morning had been taken away, replaced by freshly laundered ones.

Nothing remained of their night and morning together.

Shaking off her sadness at that thought, Audrey pulled out her suitcase and heaved it onto the bed. Despite her anger with herself over not walking away first—and not seeing the signs that usually prompted her to walk first—there probably wasn't a reason to leave now, to run back to New York. But she really had no interest in sightseeing London without him. Pathetic.

Taking the last of her toiletries from the bathroom, she stuffed them into her suitcase and waited for the concierge to change her ticket to New York. Audrey glanced around the room, that same self-anger and sadness warring within her, and picked up the pen and paper beside the phone.

"You're set, Miss Mills," the woman said through the phone and rattled off her new confirmation number. "The email confirmation and ticket will be emailed to you."

"Thank you," Audrey said and hung up, still staring at the blank hotel stationery.

She needed to write Duncan a note. She may want to leave first, to break things off with him rather than wait for him to do so, but she couldn't just leave London without a word. That'd be inexcusably rude, and her mother had raised her to be honest, not rude.

_Duncan_.

She stopped and looked at the word. What the hell was she going to say? _Had a great time, thanks for the memories?_

Audrey cringed and nearly scratched out his name, wanting to start over. She was certain Emily Post had an etiquette tip for this, but Audrey had no idea what it was.

The knock on the door startled her. Was that the bellman already? Panicked, she looked down at the mostly blank paper. She hadn't written her note to Duncan yet! Distracted, Audrey yanked open the door and stared, dumbfounded...at Duncan. He looked at her bemusedly, but his smile warmed something inside her, and damn it! Yes, it still curled her toes.

"Oh. Hi." _What a sad, pitiful greeting_ , Audrey thought, even as Duncan stepped closer and kissed her.

Unable to help herself, arousal and confusion trying to overtake her, Audrey kissed him back. Then abruptly pulled away.

He frowned at her and stepped into the short hallway. "That's all I get?" he asked as the door slammed behind him. "After not seeing you all day?"

Audrey struggled for words but couldn't think of one. Not one. The entire English language suddenly vanished from her brain.

"Oh," Duncan said and turned to her with a smile. "You've packed for our trip."

"Trip?" she asked. Ah, there was her command of language.

"Yes." The word was clipped, and the frown had returned. "Where were you going then?"

"Home," she managed, despite her utter confusion. "I think it's time to go home, Duncan," she added.

He folded his arms over his chest, that frown deepening. "Why?" he demanded, and she felt her confusion double. "You said this was your vacation and you'd be here for at least another week." His arms dropped and he stepped closer, grabbing her arms. "Has something happened?" he asked, now very much concerned.

"No, nothing's happened," she said, completely unsure what the hell had just happened. "Everyone's fine. I don't want to overstay my welcome. And," she said, watching his face carefully. She tried for a smile but found, for once, that she was unable to offer her patent breakup smile. Audrey frowned and finished, "I'd like to depart while there's still mystery between us. We'll have fond memories of this time."

She paused and tried to rectify that last sentence. She tried for a smile and knew she failed miserably. "After all, it's better to leave them wanting."

Audrey winced. She'd never have written that in her note. Talk about overly dramatic!

"Audrey," he said slowly, looking so intently at her she swore he saw straight through to her soul. Talk about dramatic. "I'm not a fan of the mystery drama," Duncan said, confused. "Nor am I a fan of you not being here in the morning."

Confused by his confusion, by the very fact that he stood in her hotel room, Audrey struggled for something to say. The second knock on the door interrupted them. Cursing what had to be the bellman this time, Audrey once again yanked open the door.

A delivery boy stood on the other side with a large bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates. "Audrey Mills?" the boy asked, his pale face peeking around the flowers.

Behind her, Duncan made a disgruntled sound and yanked the delivery from the boy's hands. He said something to the boy, who squeaked out an apology and left. Audrey knew she understood the exchange, but not for the first time her grasp of the English language escaped her.

What the hell was going on today?

"These," Duncan said, his lips tight with annoyance, "were supposed to be delivered before noon."

"Ah." It was the best she could do. He stepped back, and she saw the note attached. Before she could think about it, Audrey snatched the little card and opened it.

I'll be late, but will pick you up this evening. There're several things I'd like to do with you.

Audrey read the note over again and felt extremely stupid. She'd let every single insecurity she had influence her. And she knew she did this; she did this all the time. She ran from the conclusion of everything. And she knew, knew, there was nothing to run from here. This was only a fantasy, a lovely holiday romance.

So why had she run like a heartbroken schoolgirl?

Because she'd been scared. And foolish.

"I'm sorry," he said, still holding the greenery and chocolates. He looked so endearing standing there in her hotel room, with the delivery in his hands.

"Has this been what this is all about?" he asked. "You're leaving because you thought I was done with you?"

"No." She took the items from his hands and scrambled for an explanation that wasn't the exact truth he'd just spoken. Dumping the box on the desk, she turned to face him. "I simply thought it was time to go home."

"Thought?" he asked, his voice low, sensual but even as he steadily gazed at her. "Does that mean you've changed your mind?"

"I don't know, Duncan," she admitted. "Shouldn't we—"

"I wanted to invite you to the country," he interrupted. "That would be a new experience, wouldn't it? And didn't you come to England for new experiences?"

She couldn't read his expression, and desperately wanted to know what he thought. His blue eyes held hers and his body leaned into her as if to drive home his point. But in his gaze, Audrey saw only mild interest and the contrast did nothing to ease her confusion. She studied him for another heartbeat and then saw it, what she'd been too afraid to see before. The skin around his lips tightened with something.

Was it annoyance, frustration, or...fear? She couldn't be sure; she had known him for so short a time.

Licking her lips, she struggled to answer. He didn't show any emotion, not overtly, but when Audrey looked, really looked, she saw more feeling than she thought possible after only a few days, a couple dates, and two nights of incredible sex.

The arms folded over his chest were stiff with holding that emotion back, and the band tightening her chest loosened just a fraction.

Slowly, Audrey nodded and smiled. "I suppose I did." Shaking her head, at herself, at him, she added, "And I guess it's rude of me to cut our fun short."

Duncan stepped closer, and his arms fell from his chest; she saw some of the tension leave him. "Oh, yes," he agreed. His arms wrapped around her, but he held her loosely. "You'll have to make it up to me in all sorts of wicked ways."

He didn't kiss her, but the look in his eyes held enough heat to make her shiver in anticipation. And the way he said _wicked ways_ had her insides tingling all the more. Audrey swallowed and licked her lips, enjoying the way his eyes followed the movement.

"I think I can manage that," she agreed with a throaty laugh. "I have a very vivid imagination."

# Chapter Eight

Through half-closed eyes, sated from their recent stop along the side of the road, Audrey watched Duncan. He maneuvered the late model Bentley along the narrow, winding roads, the hand on the gearshift taunting her. His long, slender fingers held the stick shift easily, moving between gears with a fluid grace she envied.

Not for his ability to drive a stick, but because of the way he touched the car like he touched her. Long fingers on the gearshift with soft strokes that made her breath catch. The smoothness with which he moved, his movements gliding as his mouth glided over her skin.

Audrey swallowed hard and tore her gaze from him. She stared blindly out the window at the view speeding by. But like the preverbal moth to a flame, her gaze returned to Duncan.

His hair was mussed now, from her fingers. And though she couldn't see it beneath his once again buttoned-up shirt, Audrey knew she'd left a mark between shoulder and neck when he'd made her scream. A flush of clawing need twisted through her. She fisted her hands in her lap and tried very, very hard not to lean over and nip his neck.

Audrey had no idea how far from his place they were, or even where they were, but couldn't wait to get there. She hoped he had gardens—she really wanted to take him in the gardens, in one of those traditional English Gardens.

And those thoughts weren't helping her self-control one damn bit. She swallowed again and licked her lips, struggling to even her breathing.

Duncan's groan startled her, and she opened eyes she didn't remember closing to see him watching her mouth. Last night she hadn't been able to read him in her hotel room. She'd struggled to understand his reaction to her packing up and almost leaving without a word.

But, oh, when he looked at her like that, eyes wolfish and hungry and flicking from her own gaze to her lips, he was so easy to read.

Audrey uncurled her fist and trailed her fingers up his arm, watching in amused satisfaction as his fingers gripped the stick shift tighter. She brushed her nails over the side of his neck and heard him, unsuccessfully, stifle another groan.

"Are we almost there?" she asked, surprised at how low and seductive her own voice sounded.

"Yes." It was a growl of need and when he shifted again, the gears grinded.

She pushed off the seat and leaned across the center console. "Good," she whispered into his ear, arousal tightening through her.

"Audrey," he ground out and with another laugh she sat back down and desperately tried to control herself.

It wasn't long before they drove up a long drive, manicured lawns on either side, to a magnificent stone house. Manor, she supposed, a gorgeous manor house that looked more like something out of a Regency Romance than a contemporary country house.

"Some country place," she said, awed. "I thought it was going to be a two-room country house with a garden." She'd really hoped this manor house still had a garden. Really hoped. "This." She waved her hand at the place. "This is just a little bit bigger."

Duncan chuckled. "Just a little bit. I do all the cleaning myself on a weekend."

Audrey laughed again as he pulled up the gravel drive and parked before a massive door. _Welcome to_ Downton Abbey, she thought, trying not to gape. How American of her!

"A man who cleans?" she said instead. "Sold. Can I wrap you up and ship you back to New York?"

The heat in his sharp blue eyes made her forget what she'd said.

"You can wrap me in anything you want." His voice flowed over her, velvet against her skin, pure arousal. Everything was sexier with a British accent.

Audrey grasped at the threads of their conversation and managed a laugh. It wasn't the light, teasing one she'd hoped for but a come-hither sound that aroused her as much as it seemed to Duncan.

"Just remember," she said, "when I get you back, we'll have to wrap a scarf around the door so my roommates don't interrupt our doctor/nurse game."

"A scarf," he whispered, his mouth a breath from hers. She shivered again and tried to catch her breath. "And a game. You like to play games, hmm? I like it."

"I love to play games." She smiled. "And they're always more fun with just two."

"That they are." His lips teased hers with not the hard kiss she'd imagined, not even the slow, thorough exploration that drove her crazy. But he pressed his lips to hers, in promise of things to come. He pulled back before she could even tangle her fingers in his hair.

Before she'd recovered her breath, or even remembered where they were, Duncan had come around the car and opened the door for her. His hand wrapped around hers, and she felt that strange arousing jolt at his touch. Audrey grinned up at him as they walked up the steps to the wide doors.

The manor house was incredible, and though she knew she'd love to explore every nook and cranny of the historic building, she was more interested in exploring all of Duncan's nooks and crannies. At the top of the steps, she sent him a wicked look and shivered at the answering one she received in return.

Would pushing him against the front door of what was obviously his ancestral home and wrapping her lips around him really be that highly inappropriate?

The door opened and her grin faltered when a butler—a real butler—opened the door. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment, but she looked the man in the eye and tried not to think about what she'd been planning to do with, and to, Duncan in the many rooms of this house. She sent the man a bright smile and tried to push those wicked thoughts aside.

She wasn't very successful.

Okay, so they'd have to be a tad more discrete in the house, with the staff around. Audrey had to admit, as she shrugged off her coat and handed it to the butler, that she hadn't added them into her fantasy. Ah, well, it'd be more fun to hide from the staff anyway. Make their already fantastic sex all the better. If that was possible.

Audrey grinned again up at Duncan as he took her hand once more. Oh, yes, if the heat in his gaze was anything to go by, her tour of the house would definitely involve taking him in every room.

Duncan led her through the house, down long hallways, and through the library to a pair of French doors. The building shadowed the bright spring sun, and a light breeze curled along the patio. Audrey wished she'd kept her coat and stepped closer to Duncan. They walked through magnificent gardens, with early flowers peeking out in a brilliant display of colors; vibrant green bushes opened to the sun and offered the crisp tang of spring.

She breathed deeply and smiled, trying and failing to remember the last time she'd felt so relaxed.

"They're beautiful," she told him as they walked down the neatly raked stone path. "It's beautiful here. One of my plans was to see Kew Gardens," she admitted as they wandered past a stone fountain. "Maybe we can see them when we return to London?"

"Of course," he agreed. Duncan had stopped at a crossroads and looked down each path before deciding on the right one. "Anything you want."

Audrey gave a low, throaty chuckle and pulled him closer. "Anything?" she asked, her lips a breath from his. "Anywhere?"

His hands clenched on her hips, and she wondered when he'd drawn her this close. And when her fingers hand-combed through his hair. And when his mouth kissed down her neck. Shivers of pure need chased up and down her spine and that moan had to be hers; her breath hitched as his fingers found her already hard nipple through her top.

"Duncan." She didn't recognize her own voice but did recognize the clawing need bursting to break free.

He pulled back, his eyes dark, his breathing erratic. Audrey looked up at him, feeling as if she was drugged. She didn't care where they were, but the way he looked at her made her think he searched for a secluded corner of the gardens. Still breathing heavily, Duncan took another step back and watched her for several long moments, his expression unreadable.

Audrey licked her lips and tried to speak, but forgot how to form words. Then he took her hand again, as if they hadn't been groping in the garden, and they continued their walk.

Audrey took in deep gulps of air as unobtrusively as possible, and hoped the fresh spring air helped. It didn't. And just as she decided she didn't care about the gardens, who might be wandering by, or what his staff might think of her if she gave into her need and pushed him to the nearest bench, they stopped.

"Mum."

It took Audrey a moment to register the name. Not just the sound, but the name that sound formed. An older woman, tall and elegant, rose from where she kneeled in a flower bed. Her wide-brimmed hat covered her face for a moment as she dropped her gardening gloves to the ground.

"Duncan! I didn't know you were coming home this weekend." She moved with a grace Audrey envied, and she wrapped her arms around her son.

Audrey tried not to gape. _He'd brought her here to meet his mum?_

Her limbs forgot how to move and her insides felt like ice. She wasn't afraid to meet his mother or at least she didn't think she should be. But the shock of doing so, without so much as a warning, had her scrambling for...well, pretty much anything. His mum. Oh boy.

"Audrey," he said, pulling back from his mother and retaking her hand, "I'd like you to meet my mother, Lila. Mum, this is Audrey Mills."

She composed herself as best she could, given she had absolutely not expected to meet his mother. Every single thought she had about wrapping her lips around his cock and taking him in the middle of these lovely gardens vanished in a burst of motherly smiles.

And, damn it, she knew she was blushing again!

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she said and took Lila's outstretched hand, still desperately trying to stuff all her Duncan fantasies into a box in a distant corner of her mind.

"It's about time Duncan brought a lovely young lady to meet me," Lila said with a smile. Her eyes, the same blue as her son's, brightened as she focused on Audrey.

Zeroed in on, Audrey with barely contained panic. Her mind scrambled to remember the words his mum had spoken, that part about finally bringing a woman home, but they were slippery threads she couldn't grasp.

Good Lord, he'd brought her home to meet his mother.

She hadn't even imagined his mother. No, as far as she had taken the idea of it, not that she really had, he'd sprang from Mr. Darcy, Clark Gable, and Cary Grant, all wrapped into the lickable form of Duncan Collins. A mother? Nope, she'd never thought that once. And to meet her?

Audrey's thoughts ground to a halt, and she refused to think further.

Swallowing, Audrey forced a smile, saw the answering one in return, and felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders. Then Duncan's hand took hers again, and with that comforting and familiar touch, she felt her natural smile slip into place.

Audrey looked up at Duncan, to see him watching her.

"When Duncan told me he planned to come up for a few days with a friend," Lila said as she gestured to a bench near where she'd been working, "I had hoped to meet someone like you. He works entirely too much, you know."

Audrey sat beside Lila and smiled. "Yes," she said and tried not to cringe at the memory of thinking he'd abandoned her because he had to work. "I know he does."

"I do so hope you'll enjoy all we have to offer here at Thornhill Hall," Lila added with another soft and sincere smile.

"Oh," Audrey said with a bright smile of her own, "I'm sure I shall."

And it wasn't her fault, it really wasn't, that all she could think of was enjoying Duncan at Thornhill Hall. After all, Duncan's fingers brushed the nape of her neck, and stroked just behind her ear.

"Duncan," Lila said, and her entire demeanor changed. Stiffened, in fact. "Libby is here, and she brought a friend."

Beside her, Duncan stiffened as well, his fingers now rigid on her shoulder. Audrey looked up at him, but that mask had fallen back into place, hiding everything he thought or felt.

"Why?" he ground out.

"I don't know." Lila shrugged. "She just popped over when I mentioned you'd be visiting for a few days." Lila sighed, and her shoulders sagged for a heartbeat before she resumed her perfect posture. "I'm sorry, Duncan."

"Libby?" Audrey asked, still watching him. His fingers hadn't relaxed on her shoulder yet, and she wanted to take his hand in hers, to stand and hold him until this awful tension in him subsided. Only his mother beside her stopped Audrey.

"My cousin." The words were short and terse, and he offered nothing more.

"I must apologize in advance for Libby," Lila said. Her voice held that frosty politeness the British pulled off so well. "She's..." Lila sighed and shrugged, a slight movement of her shoulders that portrayed more annoyance than the exaggerated roll Audrey was used to seeing. "She's one of those people I wish I could control like I control the telly, so when she says inappropriate things, I can mute her."

Audrey stifled a giggle; after all, this was Duncan's cousin and Lila's niece. But, oh, Audrey knew people like that.

"If we could figure out a way to invent that," Audrey said with another laugh, feeling unaccountably relaxed suddenly, "we'd be the richest people in the world."

# Chapter Nine

Audrey took to Duncan's mom right away. Who wouldn't like someone who offered to mute overly chatty relatives? Completely thrown at meeting her lover's mother, she tried to take it in stride. But seriously, finding aliens had actually built Stonehenge and had just returned wouldn't have surprised her more than this impromptu come-meet-my-mum trip.

However Lila was funny and astute, and made her relax. They'd had a pleasant talk in the gardens, all planned and maintained by Lila, followed by a light lunch on the patio.

Prior to this little country trip, Audrey hadn't given any thought to Duncan's mother. Oh, he'd mentioned her during their sightseeing trips, but not enough to make her think that after only a couple days of touring London and hot monkey sex, he'd bring her home to meet mummy.

Frankly, Audrey had no idea how to feel about that. Except that Lila probably lived here at the family estate—but then why had Duncan brought her to the country?

Her thoughts chased themselves around and around like an unruly puppy, until Audrey wanted to scream in frustration. She was frustrated with herself for reading too much into this meeting and with wanting more from a holiday affair than was smart to even think about. Now, as they walked around the well-maintained lawn, the cool spring breeze nipping at her cheeks, she forcibly pushed it all aside and tried to focus on what was actually happening and not what she wanted to happen.

Because fantasy very rarely merged with real life.

Duncan's hand was warm and comfortable around hers as they made their way around the manor house. She'd had a wonderful afternoon, joking with him about the portrait gallery he'd shown her and how he did look like his five-times great-grandfather but not his four-times great—and what had happened there?

She'd laughed and winked at him as she spun ever more elaborate stories of servant girls and illicit trysts in the parlor room. Then laughed harder when he made her blush with what exactly they'd done in his front parlor the other night.

Even now the memory caused her to flush with arousal, with that same out-of-control need to taste him, to feel his skin against hers. Try as she might, Audrey couldn't remember the last time a guy had made her this aroused with simply a memory. Or a look, like the heated one in his sharp blue eyes he now gave her.

They rounded the manor and headed back for one of the many doors that led inside. Audrey hadn't thought about it before, though she supposed she should have. The vast number of doors leading from the house to the outside was staggering—no wonder Jane and Elizabeth were always running around in _Pride and Prejudice_.

"There are no bodies in the basement, Audrey." Duncan laughed, and it sounded free and light. But the look in his eyes, the piercing heat, the blue so crystalline she wanted to drown in it, told Audrey all she needed to know about his current thoughts.

"With a place like this?" she asked, laughing up at him. "Of course there are bodies in the basement! But I promise." Audrey leaned in and rested her head against his shoulder, her breath brushing the skin just below his ear. "I'll keep your secrets."

She pulled back from the innocent but incredibly intimate touch, licking her lips. Looking up at him, she returned his smile, her laughter dying in her suddenly dry throat. She felt Duncan's fingers tighten around hers and knew he could all too easily read her desire in her eyes.

Audrey didn't care.

"Oh?" Duncan asked. His low voice sent a rush of heat tingling through her. "Will you keep my secrets?"

"Every one of them," Audrey vowed, breathless. She stopped and cleared her throat and said in a lighter tone, "From the innocent ones to the mother of all secrets."

Duncan's mouth dominated hers; his tongue swept through her mouth, with one hand low on her back, to pull her flush against him. Her free hand raked through his hair, and she pressed closer. She moaned, whimpered more like, and didn't care where they were or who was in the house behind her. He could take her against the house, for all she cared.

As abruptly as he kissed her, Duncan pulled back. She hadn't expected that, and followed him slightly when he did so. Struggling to catch her breath, Audrey leaned back and tried to control herself. She blinked up at him, but the molten blue of his gaze did little to help her find her equilibrium.

"Yes," he said. "I believe you would."

It took her a heartbeat to remember what they'd been talking about. Secrets. His secrets. And, Audrey realized, as her breathing more or less evened out and her heartbeat slowed somewhat, that he hadn't really trusted anyone with his secrets. She licked her lips, tasting him on them, and dropped her gaze to his mouth.

Despite the heat between them, her tearing need to feel him moving within her, she almost missed his words. Almost. But the conviction behind those words, the way he looked at her, the sincerity there...

She swallowed and found herself nodding.

"Of course I would," she said softly. She didn't promise or swear she would, but hoped the quiet conviction she felt was enough for him to believe.

Duncan looked like he wanted to say something else, but only nodded. He stepped back, and a cold blast of air rushed between them, causing Audrey to shiver. His hand had never left hers, and once again he turned them toward one of the doors.

"Don't you have many you can confide your secrets in?" she wondered, but somehow she already knew the answer was no.

Maybe, she thought, maybe before he'd rebuilt the family's fortune, but she knew all too well what money did to people. Made them leeches, at best.

"No." The word was simple, without anger or contempt. A simple acknowledgement, and that made her ache for him. "I don't. I don't trust many people," he added quieter.

"No," she agreed. And hated that he couldn't. "I suppose not. But," she said and looked up at him, "you do have those few friends you trust with everything, don't you?"

"I have different people I trust with different things," Duncan said slowly, the words drawn out carefully. He looked down at her and offered a shadow of a smile. "But there isn't one person I trust with everything." He paused, and the smile strengthened. "Well, maybe there's one now."

Taken aback, she surprised herself by not moving out of his embrace, by not releasing his hand and running back to the house, gathering her bag, and walking out of the manor. Instead, she looked up at him as they walked slowly along the flagstone path, but didn't pull away.

"I would never betray you in anything." Her words slipped out of her mouth before she'd realized she'd planned on saying them.

Swallowing hard, she pulled back and released his hand. Oddly bereft at the lack of contact between them, she shoved her hands into her coat pockets and tried to convince herself she was cold. Not that her words terrified her with their honesty.

"But," she said with her normal sassiness, "I might betray the rules of etiquette and grope an earl on his own terrace."

Audrey grinned up at him, trying to dispel the emotion that wrapped around them and made her want to stay exactly where she was for as long as it mattered. She pinched his ass and laughed when he jumped.

"I'm sure the mavens of such things would be horrified." He laughed.

But the band tightening her chest didn't loosen.

"Would their stone faces crack?" she wondered, trying to reclaim the easiness between them.

"Into a million pieces." He took her hand once more, and dragged her in the door.

"Oh," she whispered, easily keeping up with him. Audrey ignored the emotions boiling between them and grinned up at Duncan. Sex, she could handle. Even the explosive, toe-curling, memory-numbing sex between her and Duncan. The sex she couldn't get enough of and wanted every minute she saw him.

"Are we being naughty?" she asked as he led her up the stairs and down a long hallway.

He didn't respond, and that was just fine with her. Audrey didn't get a good look around the room, not with his mouth on hers and the door slamming closed behind her, but she had the impression this wasn't a guest room. In fact, she thought through the haze of _Duncan_ clouding her mind, she had the impression this was his room.

Audrey wanted to protest, or at least make a joke out of going to his room and not hers, or even another guest room. She tried to think of the words, but his mouth was doing incredible things to her neck, and his fingers were caressing her stomach beneath her sweater.

Words had little meaning when her sweater lifted over her head and Duncan's tongue found her nipple through the bra. She gasped his name, her body hot and wet, and arched into his touch.

Duncan waltzed her backward, an erotically graceful dance where their bodies met and released with every step. Audrey wondered, in the moments before the back of her legs hit his bed, what it would feel like to dance with him, hot and sweaty in a club, where the rules of society held true.

Then she decided she never wanted anyone else to see the way he moved and the way they moved together.

Her fingers trembled on the buttons of his shirt, and she shoved it off with jerky movements. His hands yanked on her pants, and Audrey quickly sat to remove her boots. She loved them, but they were a definite hindrance to having a quickie with Duncan.

She threw the boots aside, her mouth on his belly and her fingers on the button to his pants. Already she could feel him hard for her, and she shuddered at that thought. Duncan stepped back to kick off his shoes and socks, pushing down his pants, and Audrey watched.

Oh, he was beautiful. She sat on the bed, completely unself-conscious in her nakedness, and licked her lips. She could watch him for hours, Audrey decided, and she ran a finger over the tip of his cock. And one day she would do exactly that—spend hours tasting him, feeling every inch of his body beneath hers, know every spot that made him growl and exactly how to make him lose control.

Duncan did growl now, and the sound sent a burst of heat through her. She gasped. Her nipples ached to feel his mouth, and she wanted nothing more than to straddle him and make him lose that control.

He knelt before her. Surprised, Audrey spread her legs, and every last thought fled from her. Duncan kissed up the inside of one leg, only to ghost over her core with featherlight touches that built her orgasm higher but never offered relief. When he kissed down her other leg, she moaned and clawed at his shoulders, desperate to feel him again.

Audrey pulled him up and shoved him onto the bed. Desperate need beat through her with every pound of her heart, but she needed to taste him. Her mouth grazed the side of his neck, her tongue tracing the outline of his collarbone. Her fingers wrapped around his cock and stroked him, the guttural sounds he made coiling through her.

Straddling his hips, her eyes locked with his, Audrey guided him into her and hissed at the feel. The moan came from her, the harsh, breathless sob of need. She moved quickly, rocking over him, his fingers on her nipple, finding her nub, and circling it until she thought she'd burst. Never had she felt anything like what she did with Duncan. Every touch aroused her; every look made her forget the world.

Her orgasm broke through her in a thousand fragments, and Audrey shuddered and gasped; Duncan's hands were still on her, his mouth on hers, his body pressed so tightly against her. He'd rolled them over, pounding into her with a fierceness that drove her over the edge again, and once more she shouted his name, her climax sudden and hard and blinding.

She heard her name fall from his lips, and later, when she could feel again, his lips brushed against her neck. Audrey wrapped her arms over him, shifting so she felt as much of his skin against hers as possible, and closed her eyes.

"I feel like a naughty teenager," Audrey said, her mouth brushing his chest.

Duncan moved and tugged a blanket over them, but didn't release her. Audrey chose not to dwell on that little fact too much.

"So you did this as a teen then?" he asked, his voice rumbling beneath her ear. "Snuck into a boy's room?"

"I did not sneak," Audrey said as haughtily English as she could manage. She laughed softly and spread her fingers over the beat of his heart. "I was invited."

"Oh, yes." She felt Duncan smile but didn't move to see it, perfectly content to stay where she was, wrapped in his arms. "A permanent engraved invitation you have to my room."

"I like the sound of that," she admitted. Then, because she heard her own words, added, "But I won't hold you to it."

He didn't immediately reply, and she felt his fingers stiffen against her skin. She closed her eyes and wondered what was happening between them. Suddenly it felt so far out of her control, she didn't know what happened.

"What if I want you to hold me to it?" Duncan's voice was low and soft, the barest hint of tension.

Audrey did move then, raised her head, and looked at him. She didn't want to; part of her screamed for her to look away and not acknowledge what she heard in his voice. But Audrey ignored that voice. Duncan made her want to ignore that voice.

"Let's not talk about this," Audrey whispered. But her hand lifted, and she cupped his cheek. "Let's just enjoy the heat of the moment."

# Chapter Ten

The village was quaint, quiet, and looked exactly like Audrey pictured a village should look: like it was trapped in time and you never knew if Shakespeare was going to stroll about with pen in hand or Harry Potter was going to buy a new wand. It reminded her of a British serial, she couldn't remember which, but one with lots of unexpected murders in so quiet a place. Or maybe an Agatha Christie setting—with technology.

There were cars, of course, and people walking along the sidewalks with cellphones to their ears, and a couple teens with headphones in, oblivious to the outside world, but overall, Audrey had a hard time remembering what century they were actually in.

Duncan hadn't called this village by name, only saying he wanted to take her to the village, as if its name meant little. She hadn't seen a sign, which she considered unusual for England, and had a feeling it was named after the family, so she mentally dubbed it _Thornhill Village._

The sun shone overhead, bright and warm in late spring, and once again Duncan's hand wrapped around hers. Audrey tried, and failed, to suppress a smile, and she hoped she didn't look as silly as she felt. But Duncan smiled down at her, and she didn't care how silly it was; a woman involved in a heated fling had every right to be silly.

They'd window-shopped for a bit, and Audrey had insisted on looking through a small tea shop. The inside _wasn't_ 2 quaint and antique, but a total shock to her system. No, the inside was done in an overly-contemporary décor with little floral teacups in front of abstract paintings that made her eyes hurt. The dichotomy was almost too much for her brain to process.

Now they were again walking down the street, hand in hand, with every other person they passed greeting Duncan like an old friend. When Audrey thought of earls and their villages, which, to be honest, she never really had before today, she assumed they had a bit more aloofness.

"Seems you're popular wherever you go, aren't you?" Audrey asked.

Duncan didn't wear sunglasses despite the bright early afternoon, and the look in his eyes showed pure happiness. "It's a curse," he said with a wink. "I can't help it. It's my charming smile; I attract them like women are attracted to shoe sales."

Audrey squeezed his hand. "I love me a good shoe sale!"

She grinned up at him, his laughter warming her, and rested her head against his shoulder. For a heartbeat there was tension back in his fingers, in the shoulder against her cheek, but it disappeared in the next beat. She'd thought he'd been about to say something, but Duncan remained silent.

The next minute, he pulled Audrey into the jeweler's shop. He insisted, more like it, despite her protests. But she laughed and let him pull her inside the cozy store. The man behind the long glass counter looked uncannily like Dick Van Dyke. She had the insane urge to giggle, but kept quiet and smiled as evenly as she could manage at the man.

He moved slowly but purposefully down the counter to where she and Duncan stood, smiling pleasantly as he held out his hand to Duncan.

"My Lord, 'tis good to see you again."

Duncan smiled and held the old man's hand. They chatted like old friends, and Audrey moved a little away to give them some privacy. Behind her, she vaguely heard Duncan's laugh and tried her very best not to admit to the flush that warmed her with that sound.

"I'd like to see the moonstones," Duncan said to the other man. Audrey hadn't heard his name, and she hadn't looked at the name of this jeweler before they'd walked in.

She returned to his side and looked at him, puzzled.

"There's a legend in this village about the moonstone," Duncan said, but he didn't elaborate.

"It's like our village gem," the old man said with a smile that looked entirely too enigmatic for description. "But I'll let your young man explain."

She nodded, a warm feeling spreading through her at the man's words, and hoped she hadn't blushed. Where were her sassy comebacks? Where were her quick quips? Where was her Mae West confidence?

Gone in the face of a smiling old man and a grinning Duncan. Before she could follow that thought further, Duncan took one of the moonstone bracelets, picked up her hand, and wrapped the bracelet over her wrist, quickly closing the clasp. It settled perfectly on her arm. Not too tight, as most bracelets were on her admittedly thicker wrist, but just perfect.

Audrey refused to follow that thought as well.

Stunned, she waited in silence while Duncan handed over his credit card and the man processed it. He hadn't haggled and hadn't, as far as she could tell, even looked at the price. Billionaire earl or not, she couldn't let him spend money like that on her. As she tried to find the words to politely refuse the gift, the old man returned with the receipt, and Duncan signed it.

He threaded their fingers back together, said goodbye to the proprietor, and they left.

And Audrey still hadn't figured out how to form words through the mass of conflicting emotions burning through her. The bracelet was lovely, the oval stones set perfectly apart in a bed of white gold.

"Duncan," she murmured.

"Legend has it," Duncan began with a quick grin down at her. She couldn't read his expression but didn't stop his story, either.

Audrey licked her lips and rested her head against his shoulder once again. His words flowed over her as he drew her into the story.

"Sometime in the Middle Ages," he continued, "there was a pair of lovers. He had to go to war; there were so many wars and so many battles in England, no one really knows which one, but he had to leave. Before he left, he wanted to leave his love with a token to remind her of him, should he fall in battle."

He tugged her around a corner toward a small bakery.

"This man wasn't a silversmith," he continued. "He was a blacksmith and unused to making fine things. But he somehow used his skill to craft a bracelet. Some people believe it was a ring or a pair of earrings; there's a debate over what the actual item was. I," Duncan said and smiled down at her, "like to think it was a bracelet."

They stopped outside the bakery but didn't enter. Fascinated, Audrey listened to the story, uncaring about the people watching them. All she knew was that he'd bought her something so beautiful with a lovely, if tragic, story tied to it. Actually, she didn't know much of anything outside the sound of his voice and the story he wove.

"He traded something, probably one of his blacksmith projects, for moonstones, and set them into the bracelet. By all accounts," Duncan said, his voice dropping as one hand cupped her cheek, "she was overwhelmed by the gift and heartbroken to see her lover leave. He didn't fall in battle, but returned to a village that had been sacked, completely ravaged by one army or the other."

Audrey shivered but didn't move away. His gaze caught and held hers with such blue intensity, she wanted to shudder again.

"The villagers scattered into the forest, running in all directions to escape the army." His thumb brushed along her cheek. "It's said that the unique glow of his lover's moonstone bracelet led him to her in the dark of night."

"That's very romantic," Audrey said. She swallowed and leaned up to kiss him gently. "Thank you for the bracelet." She pulled back and laughed. "But I think he probably just bumped into her in the dark."

"It's our village legend." Duncan shrugged. "And there's always a grain of truth in legend."

"Yes," she said softer, unable to play off the romanticism of the gesture. "I suppose there is."

She pressed her lips to his again but didn't deepen the kiss, no matter how she wanted to. It was romantic and it was sweet, and it most definitely did make her stomach flip and her heart beat a little faster. And she tried. Oh, she definitely tried not to read too much into the gift; after all, sometimes a bracelet was simply a bracelet.

Pulling back, she walked the few steps to the bakery and insisted on a late lunch. Their weekend together at his home had been wonderful and fun, and his mother had been the perfect hostess, who wasn't too inquisitive and who genuinely seemed to like Audrey, but this bracelet was something else. As they ate their sandwiches and drank the homemade tea, she tried to shuffle through what this gift meant.

All she could think about was the legend, however.

And on their walk back to the car, with Duncan's hand in hers, Audrey sighed in contentment. It'd been a lovely weekend, and she didn't want to think about tomorrow.

Back at the manor house, she barely blinked when Duncan led her upstairs, ignoring the fact his mother was someplace in the house. Audrey couldn't look away from him and had been unable to since the second he'd finished his story about the lovers and the moonstone bracelet. On the very edge of her consciousness, she heard words like "fallen hard" and "fallen too fast" and "vacation romance" but ignored them, content to let them run around in circles so she didn't have to acknowledge them.

Duncan led her upstairs to her bedroom, and she was only moderately surprised by that. Each time they'd made love, it had been in his, so the fact he led her to her guest room surprised Audrey. He sat on the bed but didn't make a move. That surprised her, too, but she let it pass.

Slipping off her shoes, she stretched on her toes and watched him. He studied her, darkly intense, with so many emotions hidden behind blue eyes now the color of a perfect lake in spring.

Yes, she admitted if only to herself. She was obsessed with his eyes.

"You didn't have to do this," she eventually said, fingering the bracelet. He didn't have to, but she doubted she'd ever take it off. "It's sweet, but it was unnecessary."

In one fluid movement, he rose from the edge of the bed and crossed the room. Lifting her hand, he watched the bracelet slip against her skin. "I wanted to," he said. "I wanted a way to find you."

"Duncan," she began, amazed at the way her voice sounded. She tried to clear the lump of emotion in her throat but knew she was unsuccessful. When she spoke again, she sounded just as quiet, just as soft, which was uncharacteristic of her. "You shouldn't say things like that. You'll give people the wrong impression."

He looked at her, confused, his fingers still playing with hers.

"We haven't talked about it," she said, pushing the words out with an effort that surprised her. "But we both know what this is; it's only a fling. It can't be anything but. I live across the pond, and you—" She swallowed, but it hurt to do so. Hurt more to continue. "You have obligations here."

"All dating is a fling at first," Duncan said, his voice even and his gaze never wavering. "Isn't it?" he asked but clearly didn't expect an answer. It was just as well, as her voice had seemed to desert her. "And my obligations take me where I want to go. And if that means I want to go where you are, or I want to find you..."

He trailed off, still toying with the bracelet. "Then a little luck seems appropriate."

She had no words. No idea what to say to that. She wanted to say yes, wanted to agree, wanted to tell him they'd find a way to work this out. But those words, too, stuck in her throat. Audrey swallowed and tried again, and though her voice shook and she felt about as unsteady as she ever remembered feeling, she finally found the words.

"You sure do know how to turn a girl's head." They were, however, not exactly the words she'd wanted to say.

But then Duncan's mouth pressed to hers, and he kissed her softly, tenderly. It was an echo, or perhaps a continuation, of the quietness between them. He undressed her slowly, his mouth gliding down her chest, over her already hard nipples. His hands caressed her body, worshipping each curve of her considerable curves.

He teased her core, his mouth and tongue bringing her to the verge of orgasm again and again, but always refusing to let her fly over the edge. When Duncan rose on top of her, his face shadowed and eyes unreadable, she gasped, his name falling from her lips in a plea, a beg.

One hand hooked beneath her knee and jerked her leg around him, and with a single smooth thrust, he buried himself in her. Audrey screamed his name, her climax crashing over her, through her, around her, and still Duncan moved. He drove her higher and higher until she orgasmed again.

She barely heard him cry out her name, but she did feel him still against her, his mouth on the soft arch between shoulder and neck, his tongue licking what now felt like teeth marks.

Audrey shuddered once more, feeling him roll off her to dispose of the condom, only to pull her back in his arms. She lay there for long, long minutes, sense finally cutting through her bliss-wrapped mind.

Beneath her ear, she heard Duncan's heart slow and felt the evenness of his breathing. She waited another moment before carefully slipping from his embrace. Snagging her robe from the chest at the base of the bed, Audrey slipped into the bathroom and closed the door quietly behind her. She hesitated a heartbeat then locked it.

"What is happening?" She asked the question of the bracelet, the beautiful white gold and moonstone bracelet he'd bought her earlier.

Her fingers brushed the intricate work, dancing over the settings and stones as her mind desperately tried to think.

"This is stupid, Audrey," she told herself. Her voice was low in the bathroom as she lowered the toilet seat and sat on top of it.

It was stupid, all right—a dalliance, a tryst, no more than a curiosity for Duncan. And she had to remember that. No matter what he said or how he looked at her or what he bought her, she needed to remember that.

But she felt it, deep inside the feelings roiled and spread and encompassed her. Her feelings were all mixed up with the sex, and Audrey couldn't afford that. And at the end of it all, she had to go home. Back to New York, back to her work and her life and her continent on the other side of a vast ocean.

This...this between them wasn't serious, and she knew that. Damn it, she knew that! But Duncan said all the right words, and the way he looked at her, the way he touched her, all felt like more than a fantasy. It felt real, all too real.

Audrey needed to get out before she lost herself in his kiss, in his laugh. Get out before her heart was more involved than it already was.

# Chapter Eleven

Audrey had been awake for a while but hadn't quite moved from bed. She'd laid on her side and watched the sun lighten the sky outside her window. She'd thought about moving to the window seat to track its progress over Thornhill Manor's grounds, but hadn't managed to do so. In bed she was warm and sated, with the scent of Duncan clinging to her skin and the sound of his whispered words caressing her.

Slowly she stretched, forcing heavy limbs to move and her body to sit up. Duncan hadn't yet returned to bed; he'd gone to make several business calls before the sun had even lighted the horizon, and he promised to see her for breakfast. Audrey glanced at the clock then closed her eyes and rolled her shoulders. She needed to get up, shower, and get dressed if she was going to meet Duncan, and his mother, for breakfast in just under an hour.

Snagging her robe from the floor where it'd fallen the previous night, she wrapped it around her and headed for the en suite.

Her body may have been sated, limp from sex and pleasure and the feel of Duncan's arms wrapped around her through the night. And her heart may have beat a little faster at the memory of Duncan's lips and teeth and hands, and of the weight of him pressed behind her as she slept. But her mind raced.

She'd been wrong last night, as she'd ran from Duncan and the bracelet and the story he'd spun for her. Oh, she'd been so very wrong. Audrey shouldn't have worried about falling for a man she'd known less than a week or what heartbreak she'd feel when she returned to New York. No, those things were entirely too late to worry about.

As she stepped in the shower, the hot water beating down on her but not washing away the pain, she realized she should have worried about what she already felt. She wasn't falling for the fun, energetic, sexy earl.

She already had.

And hard.

Audrey bit back a sob and quickly washed, scrubbing her scalp as if she could scrub the pain of love away. How stupid she'd been. When had this grown from a fun fantasy of a holiday romance into more?

With an impatient flick of her wrist, she turned off the water and grabbed a towel. She barely thought about her moves as she slathered moisturizer over her skin and brushed the tangles from her wet hair. Her mind raced, stumbling over her thoughts, denials, feelings as she readied herself for their final day in the country.

Then she stopped. Stopped and really looked at herself in the mirror. Her curves—she'd always called them generous, which they were; they were very generous. Audrey ran her hands over her naked hips and belly and felt not her own touch but Duncan's as he explored every inch of her. That remembrance made her flush, but also made her heart falter for a beat.

She wasn't a supermodel by any stretch of the imagination; she was curvy and plus sized, not the sort of woman a man like Duncan looked twice at. Except he had. Confusion churned through her. If she'd been back in New York, she'd have believed this entire affair had been a bet.

But when she saw the way Duncan looked at her, she knew that wasn't the case. When he looked at her in those unguarded moments, Audrey knew he saw her as a beautiful woman and nothing else. For some reason, she found that hard, almost impossible, to accept. She just wasn't sure if she felt worthy of his attention.

Which in and of itself sounded odd even to herself. She felt worthy of just about anything—most of the time.

With Duncan it felt different. Was it because he was so wealthy? Or because he was an earl? Or because he was every girl's imagining of the epitome of Mr. Darcy? But how could it be possible that her sassy self with the Mae West attitude had actually paired with Mr. Darcy? Talk about an odd couple.

If she could just get through the next couple days, she could go home with memories of her time in England. And like a silly romance novel, she knew they'd keep her warm on cold New York nights. Pairings like this might never work out, but she could have fun while it lasted.

Audrey forced a smile and finished getting ready.

Finally, with her hair dried and makeup on, and clad in another of the dresses she'd bought in London for her time with Duncan, Audrey had decided to push her silly romantic feelings for him to the back of her mind, deep within her heart, and face the day head-on.

The house was still traditional. She could see the old hand-carved wood all lovingly preserved. The hallway was done in sage-green wallpaper she really liked that added to her sense of old and new. She poked her head in an open doorway and saw a small sitting room, done in pale blues and silvers, with a flat-screen TV, tablet, cordless phone, and several DVDs scattered over the desk.

Old and new.

She chuckled and continued on, stopping to admire the paintings on the stairway and trying to read the artist signatures. She didn't recognize any of them, but then some of those signatures weren't exactly legible. Duncan had already taken her to the portrait gallery where paintings by recognizable masters hung interspersed with his ancestors.

For the first time she really saw the banister, felt the polished wood beneath her fingertips, and knew this, too, had been lovingly preserved.

Sunlight shone in the windows; it was a bright day outside, and Audrey held her face up to the warmth and smiled. She'd enjoy her last days in England and worry about the rest later. Much later. Really.

Halfway down the stairs, Audrey saw an unknown woman cross the foyer. A tall, thin, wiry woman with long chestnut brown hair that curled at the ends came to an abrupt stop and looked up. Audrey paused, her hand on the banister, and looked down at the other woman, who watched her as if her dress was stained and her hair hung in oily chunks down her back.

Surprised at the disdain and condescension in the woman's look, Audrey managed to smile pleasantly down at the woman and continue down the steps.

"So," the woman said, her voice dripping with polite scorn, "you are Audrey?"

On the last step, she stopped and studied the other woman. She was dressed very fashionably, with heels too high for a casual day, makeup a little too thick, and nice hair. The look in the other woman's hazel eyes shot contempt, and the fake smile she forced spoke of a dislike Audrey wasn't prepared for.

Tilting her head slightly, she watched the woman and nodded. "Yes," she said as politely as she could. "I'm Audrey Mills."

"You're American?" the woman said, clearly stunned.

Audrey blinked but nodded. What she wanted to do was say she was Canadian, but refrained. She didn't know who this woman was or why she was wandering the house just before breakfast.

"No worse," Audrey said and stepped down the final step. The other woman stepped back. "I'm a New Yorker. And you are?"

She waited, eyeing the woman teetering on too-high heels and with venom in her gaze. Normally people had to know her for at least ten minutes before they disliked her. She'd never had someone hate her before she'd even uttered a word.

"I'm Libby Collins," she said smoothly but didn't hold out her hand in greeting. "Duncan's cousin. And I've no idea why he's brought you here."

Libby tilted her head and raked her gaze up and down Audrey. Her lip curled and her voice grew even colder, if that was possible. "I have a friend meeting Duncan now," she said in that same scornful snip. "Don't interfere. As a matter of fact," she continued, her voice lowering to a hiss, "why don't I have the servants pack your things and take you back to London? I'm sure you can find your way back to the wormy Big Apple from there."

She raised an eyebrow and held Libby's gaze steadily. Neither Lila nor Duncan had spoken much of dear cousin Libby since Lila had first mentioned the woman in the gardens. She could see why. What Audrey didn't understand was why they continued to keep such a snake so close. Or was Libby that different around Duncan and Lila? Somehow, Audrey doubted that; this level of contempt was difficult to hide for long.

"Better yet," Audrey said coolly, with a hint of sweetness that belied her words, "why don't you find that ride and take it straight to hell. I'm sure the other harpies miss you."

Libby's eyes narrowed just slightly. "I see you have a bit of spunk."

Still cool, Audrey twisted her lips into a half smirk and stepped around Libby. "I told you I was from New York."

She headed straight for the breakfast room, ignoring Libby, who she knew was probably also heading for breakfast. Oh the fun. Lila sat at one end of the table, reading a paper and sipping her tea. Duncan stood at the buffet with a tall woman who smiled at him as if he were Mr. Darcy and a British rock star all rolled into one.

Duncan frowned down at the woman and stepped away from her. Ah, Cousin Libby's _friend_. Audrey didn't know what game Libby played; rather, she didn't know why. It was easy enough to see the game itself—to hook up Duncan with the friend and keep whatever "in" Libby had with the man.

She made a beeline for Duncan, ignoring Libby behind her and the friend next to Duncan, and said, "Good morning."

He looked at Audrey with such heat in his eyes, she could feel the arousal spread hot and fast through her. She swallowed a whimper but knew Duncan knew exactly what he did to her. Oh, but she was a goner. And then Duncan pulled her to him, his mouth found hers, and his greeting was far, far better than her words ever could be.

His kiss left no doubt as to their relationship, and when he pulled back, Audrey wondered how she remembered to stand on her own. She ignored the other woman's indignant clearing of her throat and Libby's too-sweet greeting to Lila as she pulled back. Her fingers dug into the lapels of Duncan's suit, and she knew she looked up at him like she wanted to toss him on the floor and take him hard and fast.

Which she did. Desperately. Duncan's hungry look made her forget why doing just that was a bad idea.

Audrey cleared her throat and tossed a wave and a cheery "Morning!" to Lila, who smiled back at her with an amused glint in her eyes.

Libby had staked out the chair to Lila's right and talked very animatedly to both Lila and the friend, who Audrey hadn't been introduced to and didn't really care to be. Lila looked like she'd rather be anywhere but there.

"Good morning," Duncan said, his hand slipping down her arm to wrap around her fingers. "Breakfast?"

"Yes," Audrey agreed. Even she didn't know if she meant breakfast as in tasting every inch of Duncan, or breakfast as in the scrumptious food before them. She licked her lips, stifled a moan when his eyes followed her movement, and nodded. "I'm starving."

The hungry look he watched her with didn't cool and his fingers tightened on hers, pulling her imperceptibly closer.

"Here," he said, stopping and clearing his throat. "The crêpes are delicious. I prefer the cheese, myself, but Mum loves the chocolate and as far as I know, Jasper has yet to say no to anything she asks for."

Jasper, Audrey had learned on their first night, was the family cook. He'd told her he used to work in a five-star restaurant in London before accepting a "retirement" job here. But he'd also said he worked for the head of some Arab country she'd never heard of, grew up in Cleveland, and worked on a cruise ship for several years, so she didn't know what to believe.

What she did know was that Jasper was quite possibly the best cook in the universe.

Duncan placed two crêpes on her plate, sausage, eggs, and toast then led her back to the table, where Libby glared at her with barely disguised disgust. Audrey ignored her. Libby wasn't the first person to dislike her, and she wouldn't be the last.

"Isn't that a little much on your plate?" Libby asked as she daintily ate a bite of eggs and what looked like a quarter slice of toast. "A bit rich for someone like you. Shouldn't you watch your waistline?"

Beside her, Duncan drew in a sharp breath, and though Audrey didn't look at him, she felt his anger. Beneath the table, she placed her hand on his knee.

"She's perfect, Libby," Duncan bit out before Audrey had the chance to reply. "As opposed to you. Don't you understand—most men don't find stick figures attractive. You should have a few of the crêpes; maybe then you'll find your appropriate sugar daddy."

Stunned, she turned from Libby's shock and looked at her lover. She'd never, _never_ , had anyone defend her like that. but Duncan wasn't looking at her; he glared at his cousin and the tittering friend who at least had the grace to look down at her breakfast and remain silent.

Duncan abruptly pushed his chair back and picked up his plate and Audrey's. "Come on, Audrey," he said softly. But his mouth was tight and his eyes still angry when he looked from Libby to her. "Let's have breakfast on the terrace."

He didn't say anything else, and she grabbed their cups—coffee for her, tea for him—and followed him out of the room. She saw him nod once to his mother, who smiled apologetically in return. By the time Audrey had gathered herself enough to look at Lila, the other woman was glaring at Libby, who remained stubbornly silent.

She pulled her chair around the table to sit beside him and sipped her coffee. "I'm sorry that little exchange took you away from your mother," she said, the most innocent thing she could think of. "But your mom is right," she said, looking at him as he obviously fought to control his temper and unclench his jaw. "Your cousin is uniquely tempered."

She'd already decided not to tell him about her run-in with Libby on the stairs; it wasn't important, and she refused to allow the other woman to ruin their last day here. Audrey wanted to take his hand, a comfortable gesture, but instead ran her fingers along the back of his neck.

"I've wanted that mute button installed on Libby for years," he said, and she felt the tension leave under her caress.

Chuckling, she agreed. "I know a few people who need that kind of button."

She took a deep breath and dropped her hand. Touching him messed with her concentration and fired every nerve ending she was aware of—and some she hadn't realized existed before Duncan. Picking up her fork, she cut the chocolate crêpe and tasted it.

Audrey hadn't realized she'd moaned in utter ecstasy until she looked up at Duncan to tell him that whatever he was paying Jasper, the man was worth it. The words died in her throat. Molten blue eyes watched her with that same hunger from earlier. The same hunger she saw every time he moved inside her.

She licked her lips and swallowed. Struggling to remember what she'd wanted to say to him, before she tasted the best crêpe in the universe, Audrey tore her gaze away from Duncan and sipped her coffee.

"This brought up a topic I'd like to talk to you about," Audrey admitted as she savored another bite of the scrumptious crêpes.

Duncan sipped his tea and watched her curiously. He tilted his head to the side as he waited, and Audrey had a sudden flash of him in a pair of professor glasses and her slipping them off him. The naughty schoolgirl. She shook her head to dispel the image, though she couldn't as easily dispel the arousal throbbing within her.

"Your cousin is rather combative," she said, all thoughts of role-playing shoved as far to the back of her mind as she could manage. "But she does make a point. I..." She trailed off and looked at her plate.

"I'm not your typical type of date. At least," she added and looked up at him again, "I don't look like your typical type of date. And yet you've brought me to meet your mum." She smiled up at him; she really had enjoyed meeting Lila, but needed to know. "Why? Do you make a habit of bringing all the women you've known for a week to meet your mom? Because I have to warn you, moms don't like that."

Duncan smiled and leaned in closer. His eyes were utterly sincere and his voice was low, and she was pulled into him. Drowning in him. "I've never brought any one of my dates to meet my mother. And as to not looking like _my_ typical date?" he brushed a hand over her cheek. "Let's just say I can appreciate every curve on a beautiful woman. And enjoy them rather enthusiastically."

She swallowed and forgot what the crêpes tasted like or where they were. Duncan's words wrapped around her more firmly than a web, and they were just as strong.

"You do realize," she said softly, "I'm leaving in a few days. I have a life to return to."

"I had hoped," he said in that same velvety, soft voice that caressed her as surely as his fingers did last night, "to persuade you to stay a bit longer."

Speechless, Audrey raced for an answer. Words tumbled in her mind, but she couldn't latch onto one. She wanted to stay; oh, yes, she wanted to stay. But for how long? Another week? A month? And how hard would it be to leave then?

Before she could figure out what to say, the butler had walked onto the terrace with one of the cordless phones she'd laughed at earlier.

Duncan excused himself to talk in his office, and Audrey was left in the cool spring morning with cold crêpes and a heart that knew it was already too late to leave. What a mess.

# Chapter Twelve

They had to return to London; the deal Duncan thought had been sealed last week before they left now teetered on the verge of breaking down. He'd told her about the deal on their drive up; Duncan wanted to secure a television affiliate on the continent and had left for the country with the understanding that everything was in place.

When he returned to the terrace table, lines bracketing his gorgeous and kissable mouth, his eyes hard, Audrey realized all she'd wanted to do was comfort him. But she'd packed up her things, ignored Libby and the friend, said a proper, and warm, goodbye to Lila, and promised to keep in touch with Duncan's mom.

The sincerity in her tone surprised her more than her nearly overwhelming desire to comfort Duncan. She slid into the passenger's side of his Bentley. Audrey didn't know what to do with her hands, and kept looking for the steering wheel. She wondered if she'd ever get used to sitting on the wrong side of the car.

She tried not to think about Lila and how much she honestly liked the other woman, and she definitely tried not to think about Duncan.

For the first several miles, Audrey tried to ignore the nearly physical ache to touch Duncan. Not to make him pull over to a nice, secluded spot and have her wicked way with him, though that did tempt her more than a little. But to simply touch him, to feel his hand wrap around hers, his skin beneath her fingertips.

So she asked him about Monsieur Reynard and what had happened to sour their deal. Concluding that the other man simply wanted more money, to which Duncan agreed, Audrey finally gave into temptation. Proud she'd lasted all of eighteen-and-a-half minutes by not touching him, she reached across the console and lightly rested her hand on his thigh.

It wasn't the boldest of moves, but she was hyper aware of the hard muscle beneath her touch. Actually, Audrey thought as she listened to Duncan tell her all he knew about Monsieur Reynard, she was hyper aware of everything about Duncan. As they drove, she felt the tension ebb from him, and she herself relaxed.

Their conversation had turned from Reynard to them, or, more specifically, what Duncan wanted to do to and with her, and by the time they pulled in for petrol, Audrey was hot and aroused and wondered how close they were to London.

Pull over on the side of the road? Or wait until his townhouse?

Audrey swallowed and wondered if the petrol station had security cameras. London was inundated with cameras; from what she'd heard, cameras covered every inch of the city. No truly secret trysts there. The thought had her nipples hardening. She wondered, as her fingers drifted along her thighs and bright sparks of fire licked along her skin, where the sudden appreciation of voyeurism came from.

Because Audrey didn't really care about security cameras watching she and Duncan. In fact, the thought tore a whimper from her throat and had her fingers skimming the inside of her thighs.

"Audrey." The word was a harsh groan of need as Duncan slipped back into the car.

Her fingers stilled, and she looked over at him. His look was hungry; pure want burned in his blue eyes and sent more wildfire racing along her skin. She shuddered and swallowed, and knew they'd never make it back to London.

Not with the way he looked at her, with such intense need she thought she'd climax right there from that single look and her own teasing fingers. Duncan looked at her as if she was the sexiest woman he'd ever seen. Period. The sexiest, most precious woman he'd ever seen.

Her heart tripped and she found she couldn't form words. No, that wasn't true. She did have a word—one single word.

"Duncan." Audrey's voice was husky and low. She leaned over the console, grabbed his blue tie, and tugged him against her.

The angle was uncomfortable; the gear shift dug into her right thigh. Audrey just knew there were all sorts of cameras watching them, and she didn't care. She attacked his mouth, tasting the tea he'd had for breakfast and the uniquely Duncan flavor of him. When the kiss broke, it was because Duncan pulled back, breaking their connection with a _pop_. In the silence of the car, all Audrey heard was the pounding rush of her heart.

She licked her lips, tasted him there, and leaned forward again.

But Duncan growled her name again and started the engine. She hid her confusion behind disappointment, even knowing they needed to return to London and his business deal. His very important business deal.

She swallowed and tried to think unsexy Duncan thoughts like...like...Libby! Yes, she tried to think about his annoying cousin Libby. But all Audrey could taste was Duncan, and all she could think about was his skin against hers.

Duncan turned off the main road and onto a single lane one instead. He didn't say a word, but continued driving past a copse of trees until he turned left onto a narrow dirt road that Audrey hadn't even seen until Duncan turned onto it. Reality tried to break in, tried to tell her that his Bentley was entirely too small for them to even have a quickie, but Duncan didn't seem to care about reality. He rounded the car in quick strides, yanked open the door, tugged her out, and pushed her against it, slamming the door shut.

His lips were hot and hard on hers; his hands pinched her nipples through the layers between them. Audrey melted in his arms. Her fingers moved on their own, pulling at his belt and the button to his pants. She arched beneath him as his fingers slipped beneath her skirt.

She cursed herself for wearing the tights, yet another barrier between them.

Duncan ripped them. Audrey didn't care, barely noticing. She breathed out his name when his fingers brushed over her sensitive core. Screamed his name when he thrust two fingers into her.

Somehow he moved her to the hood of the car, and Audrey had the insane thought that she'd missed this when she'd been in high school. She'd never had sex on the hood of a car. Or in a car, for that matter.

But then Duncan's mouth was on her neck; her fingers were pushing his annoyingly stubborn pants out of her way, and he entered her.

Her breath caught when he stilled, and Audrey locked her legs around his waist and opened her eyes. Not enough of his skin touched hers, she thought, as he slowly slipped deeper insider her. She didn't want a quickie, though any sex with Duncan was fantastically hot. She wanted a slow day in bed, her mouth on his, her hands on him, bringing him to the same fever of arousal he brought her.

She watched him, gaze heated on hers, and totally focused only on her, and realized she wanted a lazy aftermath, curled around him as they talked, kissed, daydreamed.

Her heart flipped and her breath hitched, and she fell into his depthless gaze and lost herself.

Duncan moved then, with hard, deep strokes, each one driving her closer and closer to the edge. She ran her fingers down his back, cursed his clothing, and arched beneath him to feel more of him.

Audrey blinked. Time snapped and the fevered rush that had sparked this madness took over. Duncan thrust into her, moving hard, and she met his every move. Need coiled within her higher and higher as Duncan moved faster and harder. Her orgasm broke over her in white-hot waves, and she cried out his name.

When she opened her eyes again, it was to find him still watching her with that same intense focus. Audrey breathed deeply and realized he hadn't once looked away from her. Not as he kissed her, not as he'd slipped the condom on, not even as he'd made her scream his name. Duncan had watched her the entire time.

And it touched a part of Audrey she hadn't realized was cold and lonely. She couldn't decipher that look; the intensity of it warmed her even as it scared her. Even as it made her want to run from this between them.

His mouth was soft and warm as he withdrew. She straightened and shoved that warmth to the background. Audrey tried to fix her clothing, but her tights were ruined, and she had no idea what happened to her panties. Had she heard them tear? She looked around but didn't see them lying on the ground.

Duncan tucked himself back into his pants. Audrey really wanted to tear those pants off him.

Good Lord, she was a forward hussy with Duncan.

Laughing, she slid back into the car, waited for him to do so as well, and placed her hand back on his thigh. The rest of the drive back to London was done in silence, which, unfortunately, gave her plenty of time to think.

About Duncan and what he meant to her, about her flight back to New York in a couple days, and about how her heart was ever going to heal.

But Duncan needed her to put together a last-minute dinner party for Monsieur Reynard, and she'd do that.

Once back at the townhouse, and with the memory of Libby telling Duncan she'd see him back here echoing in her ears, Audrey headed for the kitchens. She was used to putting together charity events, making certain the models were expertly clothed and coifed, and that no detail went wrong.

She'd never planned a dinner party on this scale, per se, but was confident enough in her abilities to know she could pull it off. An hour later, laughing with the cook, she returned to the dining room.

One of the servants laid out the silverware, and Audrey smiled at her. The other woman offered a tentative smile in return and a quick bob of her head. Confused at the woman's timid behavior, Audrey continued onto the foyer. Duncan wasn't due back here with Reynard for an hour or so, and she wanted to make sure she looked the part of the earl's hostess.

The thought sent a pleasant tingle through her, and as her heels echoed on the flooring, Audrey allowed herself to wonder what it'd be like to always be his hostess. The front door slammed closed, startling her out of her daydream.

True to her threat, Libby had arrived.

Dressed in expensive slacks and a too-tight top with big, glittery sunglasses, Libby carried only her purse. She hadn't seen Audrey just yet. Instead she looked around the foyer as if expecting Mr. Granwood. Was that the butler's real name? Or a butler stage name? Audrey shrugged and wondered if butlers had butlery names. Still, she felt sorry for Granwood if he had to deal with Libby on any kind of regular basis, because Audrey knew the other woman was standing there waiting for Granwood to fetch and carry for her.

Suppressing a scowl at Libby's arrival, Audrey stepped into the foyer.

Offering a cool grin, Audrey nodded. "Hello."

It was as polite as she could manage, and even then the words got caught in her throat.

"Oh. You're still here infesting Duncan's orbit?" Libby dismissed Audrey with a quick shake of her head. She slowly took off her sunglasses and slipped them into a case before returning both to her oversized purse.

"Lovely to see you too, Libby." Audrey ignored the other woman and rounded the base of the steps to head upstairs. "I have to change."

"I didn't realize they made cocktail dresses out of camping tents," Libby sneered.

On the third step from the bottom, Audrey glanced over her shoulder and looked down at Libby. "They're right next to the Prada muzzles. I suggest you use one."

She continued to the next step but naturally engaging with Libby was a mistake.

"You shouldn't be here tonight," Libby said in a patently false sympathetic tone. "You do understand dear Duncan is bringing home a very important European man to do business with."

Audrey wondered if Libby knew the boundaries of Europe then squashed that thought. She had enough issues with Libby's cattiness without adding to it. And she was Duncan's cousin; she supposed she could be nice to her. Really. Oh, her fellow New Yorkers would be so disappointed in her held tongue!

"Oh, I'm very aware," Audrey said but didn't turn on the step. "Duncan asked me to assist with the dinner party this evening. Therefore," she added with a hard tone that escaped the tight control she had on her sarcasm, "you're not needed."

Libby took an angry step closer. Her eyes flashed hatred, and Audrey wondered what she'd done to cause such instantaneous hatred. Was it because she'd obviously brought a friend to entice Duncan? To be fair, the friend seemed surprised Duncan already had a date this morning at breakfast. So Audrey supposed she shouldn't be too angry at the still-nameless female, though she couldn't help the territorial feeling that made her want to tell everyone Duncan was hers.

Even if he couldn't be.

But Libby was something else entirely. The woman clearly hated her for no other reason that Audrey could see, other than she was far curvier than Libby thought was necessary.

"Do you really think you're the image Duncan needs to portray in his business?" Libby spat. "I was told," she said, clearly implying that her source lacked credibility, "you're a stylist in New York. That's a very behind-the-scenes occupation."

And her enunciation on "occupation" was clearly meant to portray Libby's distaste for _working_. Audrey resisted the impulse to roll her eyes.

"Behind the scenes is where you should stay," Libby added with an ugly twist of her lips. "Duncan is very much an upfront gentleman. And the woman on his arm should be..." She paused and tried to untwist her ugly sneer into something more seductive. It didn't work. "Suited for that position."

"I'm sure that if you weren't so directly related to Duncan, you'd certainly open those dimpled knees for him," Audrey spat. She couldn't hold her tongue any longer. The woman was cruel, blind, and just plain annoying. And Audrey really, really wanted to take her down more than a notch. "You'd certainly snatch that position for yourself. Except Duncan has better taste."

Taking her time, she looked Libby up and down, very slowly and obviously finding fault. "In both women and fashion."

Facing forward again, Audrey continued up the stairs. She ignored Libby's furious spitting and calmly made her way to her room, only to realize her bags had been placed in Duncan's room. Well of course. She closed the door softly, letting the latch catch so as not to give Libby the satisfaction of slamming it.

No amount of deep breaths could cool her anger or the knowledge that, damn it, Libby was right. And didn't that gall her. Duncan deserved a beautiful, _slender_ woman on his arm. Not a short, pudgy New Yorker who couldn't, and didn't want to, hold her tongue. He deserved much, much more than she had to offer. Than she was.

Her head banged against the door, and she closed her eyes. Oh, hell. What a mess.

# Chapter Thirteen

In her not-so-humble opinion, tonight's dinner party was a total success. François Reynard was charming, funny, and not after more money from Duncan, as Audrey had first assumed. No, he was simply a conservative businessman who wanted the best for his company. His underling, Théo, however, did look like the preverbal shark and was no doubt the push behind Reynard's desire to break the deal.

But as she, Duncan, and François laughed over after-dinner drinks, Audrey was confident Théo's influence was on the wane. He seemed more interested in the furniture than in any conversation that didn't directly involve the partnership. She wondered how that could be so when clearly the man was a _business_ man and, she presumed, well versed in the fine art of small talking a potential partnership into fruition.

Apparently she presumed wrong.

Still, she had to admit, Théo had fantastic taste, and the dining room was beautiful. The glass chandelier sparkled above the long cherry table which glinted in the bright lights. Glancing up, Audrey wondered how they'd done the wiring without ruining the gorgeous antique woodwork surrounding it. Then again, Audrey thought as she studied it, even the thought of cleaning each delicate piece of hanging glass was enough to make her arms ache.

But she was perfectly happy to admire it.

The dining room was beautiful, seemingly plucked from another era yet somehow maintained a contemporary air. Along the far wall, a large painting of some Napoleonic War battle hung in prominence. She'd asked Duncan about it, but the battle meant nothing to her, and she'd promised herself she'd look it up online later. The dishes and silverware were several hundred years old—Georgian, she believed—but lovingly cared for.

They'd gone all out to impress François, but Audrey had quickly realized it wasn't the fine china or the delicious meal that had worked. He was a charming man and she knew, modesty be damned, that she'd charmed him. It hadn't hurt that she'd genuinely liked him.

And Duncan. Sure, working with him to secure his deal was nice, more than nice, but it felt right when his hand rested on the small of her back as he led her into the front parlor when their guests had arrived. Audrey had purposefully worn a sleek black dress with chunky red jewelry and shiny leather heels. She looked good and knew it.

The hungry look in Duncan's eyes told her exactly what he wanted to do to her the instant they were alone. It kept her on edge all night, a delicious tip of the iceberg, where his every touch stoked her already ready body. She hadn't expected them to work this well together.

Audrey didn't know if she wanted to be glad she'd been wrong, or if she simply needed to embrace how right it felt to be with him like this.

She licked her lips and took another sip of her sweet dessert wine. François and Duncan were discussing the finer points of the partnership, and she supposed she should move away and talk with Théo, but Audrey had never really been one to do as she _should_ do. And she felt comfortable here.

Duncan didn't make her feel as if he no longer needed her; in fact, his hand continued to rest on the small of her back, the brush of his fingers through the material of her dress sending erotic sparks through her. It almost felt real—all too real.

Her stomach flipped, and she finished her wine in a single gulp as Duncan's laugh washed over her like velvet brushes along her skin. He shook hands with François, and she took the opportunity to step away from his seductive touch and set her empty glass on the table with a sharp _click_.

Too real, all right. What was she thinking? That she could step into the shoes of Duncan's hostess like it meant nothing? Audrey licked her lips and tried desperately not to think about Libby's brutal words. It wasn't the other woman's tone or even the words themselves that bothered Audrey.

It was the fact that that damned bitch had been right.

Duncan needed a woman on his arm who could do this. One who matched him in every way, one who charmed his business associates and looked the part. She could do charm; Audrey prided herself on her witty conversation. And she knew she looked good, curves and all. She had style and fashion and knew how to put it all together.

But she didn't match Duncan.

She walked away from him and pretended to study the painting. Audrey only saw a blur of colors, sharp oils, and subtle shading. After a moment, Théo stood and joined her, forcing Audrey to once again wonder why the other man was here.

He said something about the artist, Meissonier, and shocked her with his observations about the painting. "It's the Battle of Friedland, where Napoleon soundly defeated the Russian army under Count von Bennigsen, a German general."

Audrey pushed all thoughts of her place in Duncan's life, her flight back to New York in only four days, and her confused feelings for Duncan to the side and played hostess. She didn't like Théo; he rubbed her the wrong way, but she could play the part.

Playing the part saved her from thinking too deeply on how very _not_ confused her feelings for Duncan were—and from wondering how those feelings had grown so quickly.

Théo and François left shortly thereafter, and Audrey said goodbye at Duncan's side. His hand once more rested on the small of her back, his thumb brushing the base of her spine. She suppressed a shiver of need and smiled at the men as they promised to meet Duncan in the morning to sign the paperwork.

He closed the door with a final _click_ and turned with a smile. "I can't thank you enough," he said and brushed his lips over hers. "Everything was perfect. And your charm helped immensely. François was almost as taken with you as I am."

She offered a small, faint smile, though his words warmed her. "Thank you," she said and tried to keep her confusion out of her voice. "I'm glad it worked out for you. I was happy to be of help."

"You were more than just help. So much more." Duncan's smile darkened his eyes, that hint of hunger she'd seen in him all night coming to the fore. Audrey licked her lips and did what all women did when they found themselves in an impossible relationship—she pulled back. Sharply.

"Duncan," she said, her voice huskier than she'd have liked. Physically stepping from his touch, she looked up at him and met his gaze. It was the hardest thing she'd ever done. "I think I should stay at the hotel tonight. I'm going to head back to New York tomorrow; it's time I went home."

She hadn't realized she'd already decided to leave before the words left her mouth.

His face froze, and he paused. "I was hoping you'd stay a bit longer," he said in a neutral tone that still sent shivers through her. "To really give us a try."

His words surprised her, and the look in his eyes made her want to agree. To stay. But she shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea, Duncan. I've had a simply wonderful time with you, the best holiday I've ever taken."

She meant those words, every single one. And her heart flipped frantically in her chest. She wanted to say yes; she really, really did. Wanted to stay with him and forget her life in New York, her family and friends, her career. How impractical was that, though? Impractical and maybe even a little selfish.

"If it's the best one," he said reasonably, his hand warm on her cheek, "then why not continue? Why not see where this can go?"

"We don't fit, Duncan." The blunt words hurt, and she saw the surprise so clearly on his face, in his gaze, when she said them. "This won't go anywhere."

"Don't fit?" he asked. Confusion made his eyes stormy, and he tilted his head as he obviously tried to figure out what she meant.

Audrey swallowed hard; they fit physically, all right. Oh, did they fit physically. And in a variety of positions.

"That's not the impression I got," he whispered. His words again surprised her, and Audrey wondered when he'd started understanding her so damn well.

Duncan pulled her closer and showed her, as if she needed the reminder, just how well they did fit. She had to swallow and summon enough willpower to push herself back. Shaking her head, she looked sadly up at him.

"Come on, Duncan. We're an odd fit."

"We're not."

"We are," Audrey insisted. Her hands rested lightly on his arms, his hands still warm on her hips. "You have a life here that's amazing. What you've made of yourself is outstanding. But I have a life back in New York; I'm an American, and you're a Brit. You're awfully tall," she said with a quiet laugh. "And I'm...not."

She swallowed again and stepped back. Then another. "Everything was just..." She shook her head and tried again. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and breathed deeply, but all she could smell was his scent. It tied her stomach in knots. "We're not well suited for each other."

His hands found their way into his pants pockets, and he rocked back on his heels. "I don't understand what you're about, Audrey. Who is well suited for anyone else?"

"I don't exude the correct image you should have in the woman that's on your arm," she said as clearly as she could.

Duncan's anger was instantaneous. He looked furious, but Audrey knew it wasn't aimed at her. Well, maybe a small part. "That's not true," he snapped. "If you're listening to Libby, don't. She's a petty woman with a terrible mean streak that I wouldn't tolerate if she weren't a relation."

"No." She shook her head. "It's not about Libby." Not really. "It's about reality, Duncan." And his name still flowed off her tongue so smoothly, she could taste it. "I understand these things."

"Apparently you do not." His anger made his voice hard, and his eye blazed blue fire. "I'm attracted to you." He looked her up and down, making her feel wanted with that look. "All of you. And I've never fit a mold in my life."

"Sometimes," Audrey said and couldn't believe she was saying this, "you need to."

"No, I don't," he shot back. "Nor do I want to. To me, Audrey, you're gorgeous and fun and exactly what I want."

Audrey stood straighter, tilted her head back, and refused to be moved from her position. "It's not what _I_ want."

And she was a damned liar. Shaking her head, she grabbed the purse and coat she'd purposely left in the foyer, a strategic move on her part, and walked out the front door. Tears blurred her vision, but she didn't look back.

# Chapter Fourteen

Calling herself six kinds of stupid, Audrey dragged herself to her apartment door and opened it. She had her keys in her purse—thank God—and her passport, though she'd purposefully placed that inside. When she'd arrived at Heathrow with no luggage and a ticket that wasn't good for four more days, and so emotionally drained she thought she could collapse right there, she'd been forced to go through extra security.

She hadn't even cared.

On the flight to JFK Airport, she'd tried to sleep. Then she tried not to cry; it wasn't her, and she didn't like doing it. She also didn't think her seatmate would appreciate the waterworks that Audrey knew would erupt if she let her guard down. So she'd tried to sleep again and eventually fell into a fitful doze and dreamt of Duncan.

When she jerked awake to the feel of the plane descending, Audrey couldn't remember the details. Or refused to remember them.

The cab drive from the airport to her apartment building was a blur. She tried to pay the driver with pounds and swore when she realized she'd forgotten to convert the British pounds back to American dollars during her long wait in the airport. Giving him her card, she called it a day and raced up to her place before anything else happened.

She wasn't strong enough to deal with anything else today.

It was early, barely five in the morning, so she let herself in quietly and dumped her purse on the entryway table. Eventually she'd have to do things. She'd left her luggage at Duncan's, so those clothes were gone; her phone beeped on the verge of death, so she'd need a new charger; and she was pretty certain she'd left the paperwork from the charity event tucked safely in an inside suitcase pocket so she wouldn't lose it.

Audrey groaned and dropped onto the couch, pulled a fleece blanket over her, and dropped her head back. She'd do all that later. Right now she wanted a good cry and a hot shower, not necessarily in that order. Plus she was starving. She hadn't eaten anything in the airport; their dinner had sat heavily in her stomach, and then she'd hummed with nerves twisted so badly, she'd thought she'd be sick.

"Audrey?" Sabrina's sleepy voice called out in the darkened apartment, and the hallway light flicked on.

Wincing from the sudden light, Audrey swiped her cheeks and drew in a deep breath. It hurt to breathe, and every beat of her heart felt hollow and empty. Oh, she'd tried telling herself that it was no more than a holiday romance, that she'd been stupid to think it was anything else knowing she'd be leaving.

Her heart hadn't listened.

And now she was back home. Sabrina squinted into the living room, retreated back down the hall, and then reappeared with an equally sleepy Eliza. The three of them had been friends for years, since college, and yet Audrey didn't want to talk to them. No, that wasn't true. She didn't want to admit that she'd fallen in love with a holiday romance and had run as fast as her shiny leather heels had taken her.

"You're home," Sabrina said. "How long have you been here, and why the hell didn't you wake us up?" She paused, sat on the other end of the couch, and added, "And why didn't you tell us you were coming back this early?"

"See?" Eliza said with a sleepy grin. "Now we have to call off the wild orgy we'd planned for tonight. Unless," she continued and pushed Audrey to the center of the couch so she could sit down, "you brought that handsome earl you were talking about." She waggled her eyebrows. "Then you can join in."

Sabrina scooted over, staring intently at Audrey's face, and automatically slid under the blanket. "What happened?" she asked quietly, still watching her.

"Nothing." Audrey tried to wave it off, but the word and pathetic flap of her hand felt sad and tired. "I'm just an idiot."

"What did the jerk do?" Eliza asked, slipping an arm over Audrey's shoulders.

"He didn't do anything," she admitted, though it warmed her heart that her friends automatically assumed it was Duncan. But she needed to be honest; she'd brought this on herself. "Nope, it was all me. He even implied he wanted something more, a relationship. But we all know that wouldn't work out. I had to protect myself." She shrugged and thumped her head against the couch. "I had to come back home."

Eliza stood. "I'll get the chocolate."

Audrey didn't bother to open her eyes and watch her friend. She tried to smile in appreciation, but her lips refused to move. Chocolate sounded heavenly, though her stomach still churned with anger and hurt and loss.

"Normally, my dear," Sabrina said and bumped Audrey's shoulder, "I'd tell you that you were, in fact, an idiot and you need to stop running from guys who are into you. But in this case," she continued in an understanding voice, "I think you made the right decision."

Eliza returned, her hands full of chocolate, a peanut butter jar tucked under her arm. "You know how I hate agreeing with Sabrina. It's the principle of the matter, but mark this day. Today," she said with a flourish as she set the items on the coffee table, "I agree with her."

Audrey managed a weak chuckle and lifted her head to look at her friends. She didn't want chocolate and peanut butter, but she obligingly broke off a piece and let it melt in her mouth. Damn, she'd meant to bring back proper Cadbury from Britain, too. She'd totally forgotten, what with the fantastic sex and messy feelings and, well, Duncan.

"Thanks." She smiled but knew it didn't reach her eyes. She'd work on that later.

"It's one thing," Sabrina said with a roll of her eyes, "to date some high mucky-muck here in New York. But this guy?" She shook her head and dipped her chocolate into the peanut butter jar. "Likely a member of the 3B Club—a Brit, a billionaire, and a bastard? He was just going to break your heart."

Audrey wiped her fingers on her dress, not caring if she stained the material. "He's not a bastard," she said quietly. "But I understand what you're saying, and you're right." She let her head drop back to the couch.

"But it doesn't hurt any less, does it?" Sabrina said quietly. Audrey heard the jar on the table and felt her friend's hand take hers. "When you let your feelings get wrapped up, even though you know you shouldn't."

With a sigh, Audrey leaned into Sabrina and rested her head on her friend's shoulder. "No. I shouldn't have."

* * * *

Two days after her return to New York, her luggage arrived. Granwood, the butler, had enclosed a note. Audrey tried not to be disappointed that it was from Granwood and not Duncan. Really she did, because she should know better and that was why Duncan had a butler. To send off errant luggage to women who walk out of his life.

Though Audrey suspected she'd been the only one to do so.

She unfolded the letter taped to the box and smiled. Her eyes watered, but she blinked hard and ignored the tears; she was so, so tired of crying, and she wanted to push all this grief and want away.

Miss Mills,

Thank you for your invaluable help with the diner party and your gracious acquiescence to be hostess for so important an event. I'm sorry not to have told you this in person, and feel this letter a poor substitute. However, please be assured that I have enjoyed the little time we spent together.

I've taken the liberty to send you your things, and hope you find everything in order.

All the best,

Granwood

Audrey looked the letter over again and sighed. She knew everything in her suitcase would be exactly as she'd packed it. And Granwood's letter touched her in a way she hadn't realized it would. She'd liked the man, he was kind and funny, and about as organized as she. Organization was a trait Audrey highly valued.

Granwood was also a little wordy and talked like he was the Queen's butler or the butler from a snooty house during the Regency.

Folding the letter, she wheeled her suitcase to her room and unpacked it. She placed the letter on her dresser and dug out the paperwork from the charity event that had first brought her to London.

She needed work. Normally after a shoot she took time to relax and unwind before planning her next event. Now she needed to work. Badly. She needed to keep busy so she didn't have time to think or remember or dream those impossible what-ifs.

What she needed was a distraction.

Unfortunately, none had been available.

Audrey took out the paperwork and looked at the clothes, all neatly folded and placed in her suitcase. Her heart tripped in her chest, and she struggled to take a deep breath. Slamming the case closed, she zipped it back up with quick, jerky moves, and hauled it to the back of her closet.

She slammed the door closed, the sound echoing through the room, and stalked out of her bedroom. No, she wasn't ready for a reminder, not when those reminders danced around her head all the time.

The walls closed in on her, and the emptiness, with both Sabrina and Eliza at work, felt oppressive. Grabbing a light spring jacket, she shrugged into it, grabbed her keys and some cash, and slammed the door closed behind her. She quickly locked the deadbolt, and it was only then she noticed that the neighboring apartment was no longer vacant.

Mr. Laufer, the old man who had lived there since the building was built, had recently died. Audrey supposed his children had finally sold the place.

"Everything changes," she whispered as she punched the elevator button and waited for its slow ascent.

The warm spring day blew around her, and Audrey breathed deeply of New York. She stood just inside the building's door and watched people stream by her, no one really noticing her as they walked in their own worlds. This was what she loved about New York: the people, the cultures, the way everything moved to a beat that was distinctly the city.

Maybe she'd made a mistake.

Stepping into the foot traffic, Audrey walked. Had she let Libby's words and her unnatural obsession with Duncan color her reaction? Had she let Libby's distaste for anyone not a size zero make her feel less about herself?

Yes.

For the first time in her adult life, Audrey had let someone else dictate how she felt about herself. Walking faster, she cursed her insecurities and hated that Libby had won. Because it may not have been a win-or-lose game, but Audrey's self-esteem had definitely taken a blow. A very hard blow that had brought her to her knees.

She'd listened to Libby's venom and disgust as the other woman directed it at her, and she'd let Libby see just how vulnerable she truly was.

Duncan's words came back to her, the look in his eyes as they watched her, searching her own gaze. The blue fire in every look he'd ever given her. _"I'm attracted to you. To all of you."_

What was she thinking? She idolized Mae West. Would Mae have taken to heart any of Libby's comments? Hell no! She'd take them and hurl them right back at the other woman, with venom to match. And she sure as hell wouldn't think Duncan was out of her league or out of her reach.

Audrey stopped and looked into a shop window of some chain devoted to teens, and she looked at herself. Blonde and bodacious. That was her, with red lips and a sassy personality. Had she given up something she shouldn't have?

She'd walked out on him so quickly. Oh, Audrey knew why: not the right image for Duncan. But who the hell was to say what the right image was? She'd spent her career perfecting images, and she knew how to use them.

Now, an ocean apart, Audrey wished she hadn't walked away from him, but it was far too late now. Who needed enemies when she did these things to herself?

Who needed enemies, indeed.

# Chapter Fifteen

Three weeks. It'd been three long, dreadful weeks. Agonizing, if Audrey felt even more dramatic than she already was feeling. And, of course, that was when it hit her. It wasn't at all a pleasant realization. She'd had relationships end before, some even crumble around her and ones that made her sad to see them end.

She'd never had her heart broken.

She'd spent her entire life living as the sassy woman who was comfortable with who she was and what she'd accomplished. She'd also built a wall around her heart. Duncan had been the first to breech it so fully that when she'd walked out on him, with an admittedly pathetic reason, the cracks had become gaping holes.

Sabrina and Eliza had tried to cheer her up with talk of the future. Sabrina wanted her to start her own fashion line, but Eliza, far more used to working behind the scenes, had wondered if that was for the best. Their cheer-up talk had quickly deteriorated into an argument. Audrey had listened but hadn't quite heard what they'd said.

She was far too busy berating herself for throwing away Duncan and all the possibilities they could have had together.

Instead, she spent her time with clients and planning upcoming events. Only half her heart was involved with that. The rest of her time was spent trying to appease her curiosity and see into the apartment next door, to no avail.

The speed with which the place had been renovated and furnished shocked her. Sure, money bought a great deal, but money in New York was like smog in L.A. Whoever the new owner was, he not only had money but serious connections.

Audrey sat on one of the high barstools at the kitchen counter and looked at her list. She rather liked the idea of starting her own fashion line, but she was far too organized to jump in without itemizing every single detail first.

The knock on her door surprised her; she'd already met her morning client and wasn't expecting Irene to stop by the studio until after three, both Sabrina and Eliza were at work, and she hadn't made plans with any of her other friends.

Spinning the stool around, she hopped off. Her bare feet hit the hardwood floor, and she walked quickly across it to the door. The apartment smelled like the lemon chicken currently cooking in the Crock-Pot, and it lifted Audrey's spirits. She pressed her eye to the peephole and looked out the door, her hand already on the knob.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she forgot how to breathe.

"Duncan."

She yanked open the door, and he stood there. His brown hair looked slightly disheveled, his suit jacket off and his sleeves rolled past his elbow. The black pants were immaculate as always, but it was his eyes that caught her. They looked directly at her, looking as if they could see through her.

Audrey swallowed and promptly forgot how to speak.

Over the last three weeks, she'd thought of various ways to begin a conversation with him. Most had "I'm sorry" and "I'm a fool" in them. All started with "hello." But her throat refused to work, and her brain remained disengaged.

"Hello," he said, and his voice washed over her with that lovely velvety brush. "I'm new in town and was wondering if I could possibly borrow a cup of sugar?"

Audrey blinked. And suddenly her lungs remembered how to breathe, and her brain finally remembered how to work. "What?" she asked, feeling rather foolish for it, and tried again. "What did you say?"

That was no better. Apparently her brain wasn't engaging on all cylinders.

Duncan didn't seem to mind. His smile curled her toes and warmed the parts of her that had been cold and lonely. All the air rushed out of her newly functioning lungs.

"I just offered you a lame excuse so you'd open the door," he said.

Audrey found herself nodding, whether it was in agreement that the excuse was lame or the fact that she did have a cup of sugar he could have, she really had no idea. "What are you doing here, Duncan?" she asked, blinked again, and waved to the apartment next door. "Was all this you?"

"Guilty!" he said, with not a trace of guilt in that smile. "I wanted to be near someone familiar in New York," he added. His hands slipped into his pockets, and he rocked back on his heels. "But I must say, Granwood is having a grand old time with life in the Big Apple."

"You brought Granwood?" she asked.

Audrey wondered if she'd stepped through the looking glass into another world. But no, her feet seemed to be firmly planted in her apartment. It was the rest of it that made her head swim. Duncan stood opposite her in her apartment building. Her brain couldn't process that, but, oh, her heart most definitely could!

"Yes," Duncan said softer. He stepped forward and nodded. "I did. He and I brought a few things that would make my new apartment feel more at home. And since I plan on being here for a while, I thought turnabout would be fair play."

He stepped fully into the apartment, but Audrey hadn't moved. Her bare feet were glued to the floor. Now she could feel his body, the heat that drew her to him. One hand rose to cup her cheek; his thumb stroked along her cheekbone and sent shivers down her spine.

"You can show me your city," he whispered.

His touch sent liquid fire through her and did nothing to help her brain engage. "I can't," she stuttered the words out. "I can't believe you're here."

"I don't like to miss opportunities that can be life changing," Duncan said, his entire body so intent on her. Audrey couldn't look away. "Those are the most special ones."

"I'm not even sure what to say," she admitted.

"Tell me if you feel the same way." His voice was heavy with need, not sexual need, though she knew he wanted her. No, Audrey knew that heaviness between them was of unspoken words and potential.

"Tell me," he continued, his hand still on her cheek. "I didn't move here for crazy drivers and hotdogs on every street corner."

She closed the distance between them and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, leaning her cheek further into his touch. "Yes. It was worth it."

His mouth was on hers, hard and hot and demanding, and oh so perfect. Audrey forgot how to breathe again, but it didn't matter. She wound her arms around him, felt his hardness against her, and had never wanted anything more in her life than she wanted him.

Physically, yes, she wanted to remind herself why they fit together.

But she wanted to hear his laugh, wanted to hear his voice as he told her about his city or his family or his latest business deal.

She wanted _him_.

"Yes. It is worth it," Duncan reiterated.

Audrey laughed and nodded. It was worth it all right. _Duncan_ was worth it. How could he not be? He'd traveled all this way for her. It was the single most romantic gesture she'd ever heard of, let alone experienced. She was already ready to melt into a puddle of goo; instead, Audrey mustered her sassy confidence, gave Duncan her most heated smile, and quoted Mae.

"I once heard it was best to love thy neighbor, especially if he happened to be tall, debonair, and devastating. It'd be that much easier."

She laughed again, feeling light and free and oh so happy. But then Duncan kissed her, and he being here, in New York, in her arms, was all that mattered.

# A Note to my Incredible Readers

I hope you found this story as much fun to read as I found it to write! There are more Curvy Girls coming your way shortly. In the next installment, _Boss Likes Curves_ , Sabrina discovers that you can find more at work than just job satisfaction and in the upcoming _Curvy's Cad_ , Eliza takes a trip to the Hamptons and finds more than sand dollars.

And if you have enjoyed my stories, I'd greatly appreciate you sharing your views on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or Goodreads. I'm always available through email if you have any comments, questions, or requests.

If you'd like to sign up for my newsletter, I'm posting a short ménage story in monthly excerpts exclusive to the newsletter. You can also find me on Twitter, on my Blog, on  Facebook, and pinning like mad on Pinterest.

Also, if you are the daring type and Curvy is your first Kristabel Reed story; try one of my ménage tales. A little scandalous lust through history never hurt anyone...much.

# About Kristabel Reed

Kristabel Reed lives on the East Coast and loves to explore the steamier side of historical romance. She loves all romances, but historical ménages particularly which add an element of danger and discovery not seen in contemporaries.

She loves reading, watching old movies, random quotes, and anything Cary Grant.

# Also by Kristabel Reed

### A Regency Ménage Tale series

Covet

"Covet _is both sweetly sensual and highly decadent, a truly blissful combination for any fan of MMF ménage stories. While the erotic encounters do take a while to develop between the three main characters, when they happen it is well worth the wait! From frantic and highly charged encounters to slow and methodical seductions.. But what truly makes this story stand out is Ms. Reed's exquisite writing, character development and plot twists."_

~5 Stars, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

For the last three years, Charlotte has survived her stifling home life by living through correspondence with two childhood friends now off at war. Once they return, will she be able to summon the courage to tell them of her feelings? Torn between William and Grayson, Charlotte must first learn to trust herself before she can trust her heart and body to them. (m/m/f)

To purchase: Regency Ménage Tales

Risqué

" _Holy smokes,_ Risqué: A Regency Ménage Tale _is an incredible book! Not usually one for historical romance novels, I was immediately transfixed by the characters...Beyond the fact that every one of the sex scenes were incredible, the story line was both unique and sensual, too. Ms. Reed has a real talent for seduction of the senses."_

~Gold Star, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

The young widow Mrs. Alexandria Prescott enjoys her untainted reputation. In private, however, her sexual appetites know no bounds. She finds a fitting partner in the notorious Kane Huntington, but when the jealous young Earl of Rowan discovers their game, will he expose them? Or join them? (m/m/f)

To purchase: Regency Ménage Tales

Seduction of a Proper Lady

" _The sexual action throughout the story is hot and spicy...I enjoyed reading about Braedon, Ethan and Laurel in_ Seduction of a Proper Lady _and didn't want to see the story end."_

~4.5 Stars, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

Lady Laurel Westfield had been brought up to be the most proper of ladies. But when Major Braedon Sinclair sets his sights on the young debutante, propriety is the last thing he wants from her! What's a proper lady to do when she has two gentlemen who want her attentions — at the same time? (m/m/f)

To purchase: Regency Ménage Tales

Wickedly Wanton: A Regency Ménage Tale by Kristabel Reed

" _I was rather surprised by the depth of emotion Kristabel Reed conveyed regarding a situation some would find to lack any._ Wickedly Wanton _is all the more thrilling for the era it is set in."_

~5 Cups of Coffee from Coffee Time Romance

Betrothed to a man older than her father, Sabine hopes to learn the secrets of sexual pleasure before her marriage night — but when Aiden, Lord Severn catches her kissing another girl, she learns more than she could imagine! Aiden is smitten, but how far will he go to have Sabine for his own? (m/f/f)

To purchase: Regency Ménage Tales

### Victorian Ménage at the Parisian Exposition series

Seduction of my Proper Wife

" _I'll admit that while I am not an avid reader of girl on girl loving, this book and the scenes between the women were very sexy and sensual while being meaningful. I really enjoyed the relationship between the two, and then when Phillip came into the picture the dynamic changed yet remained the same. I think the author did a really good job of that. When the three were engaged with each other, you could feel the heat come off the page! Wow! The love scenes had an urgent, almost frantic tone to them. I'm not sure if it was intentional or not, but it worked."_

~ 4 Stars, LAS Erotic Reviews

Philip Thornton adored his new bride but found she was frigid in their marriage bed. Lillian did not know how to ease her fear of the bed until she was freed from her past. Aria was paid to educate and entice, but what she found was more than she ever dreamed possible. (m/f/f)

To purchase:  Victorian Ménage Series

### Hellfire Club Erotique Box Set

Four previously released books: _The Escape_ (m/m/f), _The Masque_ (m/m/f), _Aycliff's Vow_ (m/f), and _Devil's Pawn_ (m/m). All set during the French Revolution's Reign of Terror. All part of the mysterious, and erotic, Hellfire Club.

To purchase:  Hellfire Club Erotique

Coming July 2014: _Boss Likes Curves: A Curvy Girl's Billionaire_ VP of Development, Sabrina McKenna, has worked hard to get where she is with Gideon Hotels. When Gideon Marquez asks her to attend several important business functions, Sabrina agrees. It's only after 2 months of these functions that she realizes they've been dating. And she's fallen hard for her boss. Can Gideon convince her what he feels for her is forever? Or will Sabrina make a run for it? (Second in the Curvy Girl series an m/f romance.)

To purchase: A Curvy Girl's Guide to Love

Coming September 2014: _A Lady's Temptations: A Winter's Regency Ménage_ Sarina Hunt loved both Prescott Sinclair and Liam Trevelyan and refused to choose just one to marry. But when a vicious fire breaks out and strands them alone, she gives in to temptation and makes love with both men. However, when she arrives home she learns that her unwillingness to choose a husband means she now has to marry a man she doesn't love. Will Prescott and Liam convince her to shun responsibility and marry one of them? Or will she be forced to honor an arranged marriage? (m/f/m This is my first het ménage!)
