Nice Girls Finish Last

But Seth wasn’t famous in the way these guys were famous. Ten minutes ago she hadn’t recognised him, nor had she knocked him back. In the right mood, Lena Kelly wasn’t untouchable at all.

Dion’s eyes had that delighted gleam that came on when he saw a building he wanted to acquire. ‘I reckon you’d have more luck than most.’ He turned to Ty. ‘Want to make a bet?’

‘No.’ Seth instantly stamped on that. This conversation had gone more than far enough already. ‘Never bet on a woman. Bad karma.’

Dion glanced, his laughter easy. ‘Quite right. And we’ve pushed it enough with Lena today. Imagine what she’d do if she heard us now?’

The entire team cracked up again. The photographer practically bounced with excitement as he snapped off shots.

Dion looked smug. Seth suspected the bet comment had been to provoke his reaction. Ruthless bastard. But Seth smirked, too—it took one to know one.

‘So this is going to be the calendar, huh?’ He knew his change of topic wasn’t going to fool Dion. The captain was watching him as well but he tried anyway. ‘You guys must just love this.’

‘Oh, sure.’

Some of the guys groaned.

‘Need you all back in the shot now,’ the photographer called.

As they lined up his thoughts derailed. The temperature of that kiss had been surreal—like being submerged into a spa after a day on the snow, bringing out goose bumps even though you were burning. Your body couldn’t decide if it was pleasurable or painful—just intense, hellish good. He was hurting for more of the supposedly untouchable Lena. The urge bit to the bone. He liked nothing more than a challenge and a chase. Used to success, he figured there was no reason why he couldn’t get her to agree to both propositions. All he had to do now was find her.

‘Coming through!’

Seth’s body recognised the slightly husky edge to the singsong voice before his brain did. Predatory instincts rose, focus sharpened. He had to turn slightly to the side to force himself to relax. This was a challenge, yes, but not one for public consumption. The guys were cheesing it up for the camera, but he sensed their attention snap to him the second they heard her, too. They wanted to see what was going to happen. Which meant that, right now, nothing was going to happen. Later on? Absolutely everything.

He tried to act nonchalant, but it would be abnormal not to look, so as the heel tapping neared he glanced over. She was hidden by a wall of shirts—holding them up high and out front like a curtain—but he recognised the dress. His body acted as if it had met its dream mate and he gripped hard on his bunching muscles.

‘Thanks, Lena,’ said Dion. ‘Hang them over there for us, will you? They’ll need to shower after this. Don’t want that oil over all the clothes.’

Seth knew Dion had just directed another speculative glance at the rubbish bin where his jacket was now in residence. But he wasn’t going to say a word.

‘Lena, this is Seth Walker,’ Dion added. ‘Seth, this is our ever efficient PR queen, Lena.’

Seth watched for a reaction as she heard his name. While he didn’t expect everyone in the country to know his face, his name was more out there. But she was terribly busy hanging those shirts—still hiding. When she finally turned, her expression was schooled into one hell of a poker face. No wonder the team called her untouchable. He thought she should definitely play some kind of … poker.

He stared blankly for a second before shaking the stripping fantasy free and focusing harder. She wasn’t looking up at him, so he couldn’t see if that gleam was there. Her lipstick was fixed but there was that extra fullness of her mouth. Frustrated desire flooded him and he cursed the presence of an entire rugby squad.

Seth Walker. Of course that was who he was. Lena didn’t need Wikipedia to know all about him. She should have recognised him earlier. She remembered his name from when he sold off some scheme for kazillions to a big corporate conglomerate and she should have recognised his face from the about-town sections of the paper and the women’s mags. The guy was the most wanted accessory of every beautiful socialite in the city scene. In fact the guy owned half the central city—was responsible for all those warehouse conversions into cool apartments and hip restaurants and clubs. He was so driven in his career he made these athletes look like Tuesday-night social-sport amateurs. His projects would always come before his private life.

That lost him a lot of points.

The demerit gave her enough chill to be able to look his way and manage an impersonal, professional smile. But she couldn’t quite meet his eyes and her heart hiccupped when she saw he wasn’t wearing his jacket any more. He must have figured what she’d done to it and got rid of it. She glanced round the room, saw the tip of a sleeve poking out of the corner bin.

Right. She glanced quickly back at him, trying not to melt at the smile and the brilliant blues—and did he just shake his head a fraction?

Yes, from the non-reaction of the guys in the room she knew he hadn’t said anything about what had happened in the corridor. They were unusually quiet right this second, but maybe the photographer had had a diva moment and told them all to behave, because she was certain Seth Walker hadn’t done a brag.

That fact earned him several points back. The way his shirtsleeves clung to his broad shoulders scored him more than a few bonus ticks, as well.

Unasked, her brain continued digging out info. Bachelor of the Decade was the headline that screamed at her. Bachelor for Life if his behaviour ten minutes ago was anything to go by. Without doubt he played the field. Any man who got that close and kissed random women the second he had the chance ought to be given a wide berth.

Ought to be.

But Lena wasn’t feeling as cautious as she should any more. No, she was giddily glad the sexy stranger wasn’t a new starter for the team. He had nothing to do with rugby. He and Dion had to be mates and she guessed he was here to check out the stadium—even the most successful business types got excited over an access-all-areas pass to the place. Her own excitement ratcheted up another notch. Technically Dion wasn’t her boss—he’d been asked to manage the stadium by the council, while she was employed by the rugby club. So as Seth was merely the friend of a business colleague there’d be no hint of ‘at work’ conflict. Her panic had been for nothing. And now the long-dormant hormones racing round her body filled her head with wonderfully wicked, over-the-top fantasies.

She tried to quell them with some common sense—the stuff she’d been at pains to develop in the last year or so. She’d been on ice for so long in the dating realm, a total playboy type probably wasn’t the sort she ought to warm up with. Then again, her inner imp whispered, he knew how to have fun. There was a reason he was so popular with women and it wasn’t his oversized bank balance. He knew how to kiss. It was obvious he knew how to do so much more than kiss….

Lena still wasn’t ready for a romantic relationship—too busy rebuilding her career and family’s respect. But surely there was no reason why she shouldn’t have a good time with someone who wanted only the same and no more?

She felt him watching her—felt that focus. The all-sensual, mesmerising, irresistible attentiveness. Couldn’t he be exactly the right guy to break her drought with? No complications, no confusion—it could stay that simple. She burned at the thought, her body so badly wanted to know his. But it was just a fantasy—she had no hope of pulling it off.

‘Seth, I’m going to be stuck here for a few more minutes,’ Dion said. ‘Lena will take you up to the offices and you can talk to her. Take the scenic route, Lena—he hasn’t been through this part of the stadium.’

Lena nipped the inside of her lip. Maybe Seth had said something. But she showed Dion’s guests round the stadium all the time. It was part of her job, not an extraordinary request. ‘Of course,’ she answered politely, desperately trying not to blush. She turned away from him and watched the team break up from the group-in-the-shower shot instead. ‘Not long to go now, guys.’

‘You better have the refreshments ready,’ one of them called out.

‘Isotonics only.’ She sent the group an apologetic smile. ‘They’re already in the fridge. Doc’s orders.’ She turned towards the door and, under the cover of their groans, looked at him. ‘Mr Walker?’

He followed, his voice low enough for the others not to hear. ‘Oh, no, please, call me Seth.’

Just hearing him speak sent heat frizzling from skin right through to bone. Her heart raced light-years ahead of her body as she walked out to the corridor.

That corridor.

She set a quick pace, fighting for composure as she stared fixedly at the concrete floor. Oh, she had to pull herself together because this was just embarrassing—had she time-warped into a teen experiencing her first stirrings of sexual desire?

‘As you can see we’ve just come through the players’ area.’ She started the tour spiel for safety’s sake. She could talk on auto—and keep talking until she could escape to her office. ‘Now we’re heading up to the corporate entertainment area. The boxes run the length of the stand.’

She started to get into the swing of it, telling him the details of the stadium, the history of the construction, the naming rights of the stands. But she was so on edge she gabbled it all too quickly. So she had to move on to player stories. And then player stats. Anything so she could keep babbling nonstop all the way to the executive space.

She was increasingly conscious of his height and his pantherlike smooth movement at her side. He was watching her too closely, not taking in the behind-the-scenes view of the stadium and the boys’ backgrounds at all. Her skin tingled, her nerves twanged.

‘Lena, I’m not interested in these stats,’ he interrupted with arrogant dismissiveness when they got to the top floor and her office was a safe step away.

She stopped midway through her recital of some lock’s weight issues. Slowly—trying to remain calm and collected—she looked directly at him. ‘Well, what did you want to know?’

‘Your stats. Every last detail.’

He took advantage of her stunned immobility and moved a step closer.

‘I’m not interested in men,’ he said wickedly. ‘But you clearly are, so how about you memorise my details, as well? I’m Seth. I sell buildings. I’m six feet two, Sagittarius, single, suffering no communicable diseases.’ He paused, the sparks in his eyes kindled. ‘Spellbound.’

And she was sweating. She, who’d been hit on by all those boys downstairs and never once blinked, was melting on the spot. Because this was different. This was … him and he took up all her vision.

‘You going to reciprocate?’ Merciless, he kept her attention his captive, waiting for her to answer.

She couldn’t say a thing, even though she really wanted to. But she’d breathlessly lost the snappy answer-back ability she’d had in the corridor.