Page 30 of One Hot Chase

"But you did, and I'm honored that you chose me." I can't resist teasing her a bit. "After twenty-four hours in London, you've already enchanted several men."

"Several?" She snorts in an unladylike fashion, and even that turns me on. "You and Crispin are the only ones."

I cluck my tongue. "Don't forget Daniel and Roger. And of course, all the men you've bumped into whilst fleeing from me. I'd wager a hundred men or more have wished they could win your heart."

She rolls her eyes, but I notice the hint of a smile in that expression. "You know what I mean, Declan. My family and friends paid for this vacation so I could search for my perfect catch, not have naughty interludes in your flat and at a Regents Park."

I slant forward, my voice low and soft. "How can you be so certain that I'm not your PC? I've often been compared to Prince Charming." Before she can complain, I tell her, "Yes, I know the man you want is your perfect catch, not Prince Charming. But I could be both, couldn't I?"

Bree's eyes narrow with a mix of amusement and exasperation within them. "Oh, really? And what makes you so sure you're my perfect man, Mr. Wilde? For all you know, I could be looking for a quiet, bookish type who'd rather spend his evenings reading Proust than chasing women through London."

A boisterous laugh bursts out of me. "Darling, if that's what you're after, I'm afraid you've came to the wrong bar tonight. My last name is Wilde, after all."

She rolls her eyes again, but I spy the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "You're impossible, do you know that?"

"Impossibly charming, you mean." I lean toward her. The scent of her perfume---something floral and intoxicating---washes over me. "Sabrina, I understand, I honestly do. You came here with a mission. But who's to say that mission can't evolve? Life has a funny way of throwing surprises at us when we least expect it."

She shakes her head. "Declan, I appreciate the sentiment, but you don't understand. This isn't just a silly whim. My family and friends pooled their resources to send me here. They're counting on me to find...well, to find someone specific."

"Someone specific? Do tell, love. Who is this mystery man you're after?"

Bree worries her lip in the most endearing way. "It's complicated. I'm not even sure he exists, to be honest. But I need to try."

I lean back, studying her face. "You said you needed to confess."

"Yeah, I guess it's about time for me to do that." She squeezes her eyes shut briefly, then aims those beautiful emerald eyes at me. "I'm terrified of what will happen if I find the right guy. You see, I was married for a year---until I found out that my husband was cheating on me. I caught him in the act, literally. After the required separation period, I finally got my divorce."

I feel a pang in my chest at her revelation. "Bloody hell, Bree. I'm so sorry."

She waves her hand dismissively, but I can see the pain etched in the lines around her eyes. "It was a long time ago. Well, not that long, I suppose. But I'm over it. Mostly."

"Oh, yes, clearly you are," I say dryly. "That's why you're on a wild-goose chase across London, looking for a man who may not even exist."

Her lips pucker tightly, and her nostrils flare. "It's not a wild goose chase. And he does exist. He must."

I raise an eyebrow. "Why, pray tell?"

She sighs, her shoulders slumping. "I guess I'm hunting for a ghost, for a man who can't possibly be real. Fairy tales are just that---stories we hope might magically transport us to another world where true love exists. If I search hard enough and long enough, maybe I will bump into the one man in the universe who won't ever let me down."

Disappointment ripples through me, though I do my best to hide it. Sabrina wants perfection. I'd assumed "perfect catch" was nothing more than a mantra. What a fool I've been. She told me from the start that she was seeking her PC. Sex with me had been nothing more than a pleasant interlude.

Bloody hell.

Chapter Eleven

Sabrina

Declan stares at me as if I'm a complete stranger who dragged him onto the dance floor for no reason. What about my confession has shocked him? I had a bad marriage. An awful one, actually. Maybe I had hoped for a little bit of sympathy, but that was a dumb idea. Of course Declan doesn't want to, um...date me. I don't want that either. No way. So what if sex with him was beyond incredible? So what if I really, really want to drag him into the restroom and beg him to screw me?

I will never do that again. The man I'm searching for is out there somewhere beyond this pub, probably beyond London and the whole UK.

Forget about Sir Declan. Right now. That's an order.

Giving myself stern orders doesn't seem like a sign of good mental health. Oh, who cares? It's time to say adios to Declan Wilde.

"Well, that's quite a revelation," Declan says as he studies me without blinking. "And I thought I was the one with a complicated past."

I shiver at his proximity. Dammit, Sabrina, get a grip. He isn't that hot. Who am I kidding? Of course he is.

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