The Right Mr Wrong. Natalie Anderson

seen that mess on the card at the chateau. She’d boxed the others away and right now her desk was completely clear. So he had no idea how good she was. Unless—

      A horrible suspicion occurred to her. ‘Did you recommend me to Aurelie?’

      He stilled.

      ‘You did. You Googled me. You found my website. You—’ She broke off.

      For once the self-assured expression was wiped from Liam’s face. He looked guilty. He was guilty.

      Victoria gritted her teeth. She couldn’t back out of Aurelie’s job now, but a huge part of her wanted to.

      ‘I didn’t think I was going to make it to her wedding.’ Liam offered an explanation. ‘And I never expected to see you even if I did. But, yes, I wanted to help.’

      Help who—her or Aurelie?

      It shouldn’t bother her. It really shouldn’t. But she didn’t want to feel beholden to him. And she’d felt so stupidly proud to have gotten this commission. That she was succeeding independently and on her own merit. Oliver had implied that her early success in London had only been because of his contacts. Not the quality of her work. She’d thought this job an antidote to that bite.

      ‘I mentioned your name when she was boring me with wedding details one day.’ Liam fiddled with one of the tins she had on her desk, pulling out the pencils one by one and dropping them back in. ‘She looked you up herself and decided whether or not to hire you. She likes your work.’

      Victoria swallowed. She couldn’t let pride ruin this. She could still get business off the back of Aurelie’s wedding. Her work would speak for itself.

      He glanced at her, his sharp eyes assessing. ‘You’re unhappy with me.’

      ‘Not at all,’ she lied. ‘It was very nice of you to suggest me to her. I’m amazed you could even remember my name.’

      ‘Come off it, Victoria.’ He stepped closer.

      She instinctively retreated. Because sometimes he saw too much—past her polite veneer to what she was really thinking. And wanting.

      ‘You’re so determinedly independent now?’ he asked, his brows lifting at her attempt to put distance between them. ‘Can’t accept anyone’s help?’ A muscle worked in his jaw. ‘Least of all mine?’ He let his gaze slowly lower— trailing over her body.

      She stood her ground, hoping to school her response and this time truly hide her thoughts from him. But once again he seemed to know.

      ‘What are you so afraid of?’ he baited. ‘You have nothing to fear from me. It would only be the once.’

      Victoria smiled, keeping the rest of her expression smooth. ‘Why? Isn’t it going to be very good?’

      His attention snapped back to her face. ‘I’ve done the convenient relationship. It doesn’t work. One-night stands do.’

      The ‘convenient relationship’? So he hadn’t been in love with Aurelie? Or was this his way of hiding his own deep hurt?

      ‘I’m not a one-night stand person,’ she answered honestly.

      ‘Maybe you should try it. Once.’

      She held his gaze—still feeling that pull towards him, but she was older and wiser and stronger now. ‘You don’t like to give up, do you?’

      There was a slight hesitation. ‘No. I told you I like to win.’

      ‘And that’s what this is?’ She gestured—fluttering her fingers towards him and then herself. ‘Like an event to be won?’

      ‘If we don’t explore it, there’ll always be that curiosity. Be honest,’ he drawled, taking another step closer. ‘You’re dying of curiosity. That burning wonder of what might have been.’

      ‘So poetic?’

      ‘It’s the Irish ancestry in me. And I’m right. We both know that.’ His voice dropped. ‘We also both know how good it’s going to be.’

      ‘Liam.’

      His lashes lowered. ‘It’s always going to be like this,’ he muttered. ‘It’s inevitable. It always has been.’

      No. She’d ceded control of her life for too long—always doing what others wanted. She was in control now.

      He’d stepped near enough to touch her and now he did. Reaching out to brush the tips of his fingers on her shoulder.

      ‘Only once, you say?’ she asked, letting some tease out. Determined to make him pay for this casual attitude. As if all this was was sexual curiosity that could be assuaged in one hit.

      ‘Feel free to make me change my mind.’ His mouth quirked. ‘Love to see you try.’

      She stepped back.

      ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not happening.’ She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Feel free to make me change my mind,’ she threw at him. ‘Go on. Do your worst.’

      Startled, he stepped after her. ‘Victoria—’

      ‘Was this only ever lust? You’re so driven by base urges you ruined your friendship with Oliver? You almost broke up a relationship? For a quick fling?’

      Or was it even less than that? She took another step from him, using the last bit of space behind her and bumping the backs of her knees against the small cot she called her bed.

      ‘Was it just your overblown need to win?’ she continued. ‘You’re so insanely competitive, did you need to get one over him? Was I nothing more than the trophy of the day?’ She kept her smile on but it was slipping. Quickly.

      ‘No.’ He frowned.

      That didn’t satisfy her. ‘Then don’t cheapen this. Don’t cheapen me.’

      Now he looked angry. ‘I didn’t betray Oliver.’

      No?

      ‘I didn’t seduce you,’ he argued, standing so close she could feel his warmth and almost taste the salty ocean breeze that he always seemed to evoke. ‘And I could have.’

      ‘You think?’

      ‘I can’t give you everything you want. I can only—’

      ‘You don’t know what I want.’

      He shrugged one shoulder. ‘Marriage, babies, Labradors.’

      ‘I tried that. It’s not for me.’ Maybe she just wanted acknowledgement of what could have been between them. That this had been more than just a sexual attraction. That somehow, unbelievable as it might have been, there had been a real connection between them that week.

      ‘So what do you want?’

      ‘A career. My business.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I was making headway before the divorce. Oliver hated that I was more successful than he was.’ The banking crisis had hardly been her fault. Hundreds in the city had been laid off—Oliver had been one of them. But for whatever reason, her little enterprise had gained traction. But after his affair and the divorce she’d lost it. Now she was back at the beginning. But she believed in it. In herself. ‘I want to build this up into something great. And to do that I need to finish this for Aurelie. That’s what I want. To have work coming out of my ears. For people to love my work.’

      He was silent, his eyes boring into her, for a long moment. Then he glanced around her small room again. The plain, utility style room with her neatly lined tins and stacks of paper and materials.

      ‘That’s all you want?’ he asked.

      ‘That’s all I have time for.’

      ‘No time for anything else?’ He suddenly smiled, wicked-incarnate again. ‘Not even one night?’

      ‘Typical.’