Page 29 of One Hot Chase

I disagree with that statement, but I don't give a toss about the match. So, I extend my hand to Bree, not bothering to hide my triumphant smirk. "Shall we?"

She hesitates for only a few seconds before sliding off her stool. A red dress hugs her figure, accentuating every curve from her cleavage to her thighs. Where did she get that frock? It's not the same one she wore earlier.

Bree tentatively threads her fingers with mine. "All right, but just one dance."

I lead her to the small dance floor, my hand resting lightly on the curve of her spine. The music shifts to a slower tempo with a sensual beat as we find our spot among the other swaying couples. I pull her close, relishing the heat of her body.

"What are the odds I'd bump into you her?" I murmur. "Then again, perhaps you're following me."

Bree traces her tongue across her lips. The cherry red lipstick she wears makes me hunger to devour them. "I believe you're the one who's following me, Sir Declan. You were so desperate to catch me, after all. But I'm more interested in how you tracked me down."

I spin her out and then reel her back into my arms, buying myself a moment to think. "Pure coincidence, love. London's a small place when you know where to look."

She snorts, clearly less than convinced. "Right. And I suppose you just happened to choose this exact pub. This was the second pub I visited. I took three separate taxis to get here and jogged a block and a half. Yet you arrived only three minutes after I did."

"You started chatting up young Crispin only a few moments ago?"

"That's right. I rock the small talk."

She rocks everything, as far as I can tell. I'm beginning to think she's a closet genius, or perhaps an evil mastermind. No, I'm the dastardly villain in this story.

"You haven't answered my question," she purrs. "How did you---"

"That's a trade secret."

A playful smile curves Bree's lips. "Trade secret, huh? I didn't realize chasing after women was a profession."

I chuckle, pulling her closer as we sway to the music. "With you, it's a full-time job. But I prefer to think of it as...persistent admiration."

"Is that what you Brits call it?" Despite her annoyance, I can feel her body relaxing against me. "You know, most men would have taken the hint after being ditched once."

"Ah, but I'm not most men, am I?" I cup her arse with one hand, strictly because I love how it feels. "And I don't recall hearing you complain last night or this morning or this evening at Regent's Park."

"That was...a momentary lapse in judgment."

"Was it now? Seemed like several lapses to me. Delicious ones, at that."

Her fingers tighten on my shoulder, and there's a slight tremor in her voice. "You're incorrigible."

"Only when it comes to you, love." I spin her round again, making her frock flare out around her knees. When I pull her back, I make certain she's clutched even closer to me.

Sabrina clears her throat. "I, um, need to confess something to you Declan."

"Do you? Perhaps I should pull on a priest's vestments first."

"I'm serious."

A sigh blusters out of me. "Yes, I can see that you are. Why don't we grab that booth in the far corner? It will be more private."

She nods, glancing about nervously as I guide her to a secluded booth. We slide in, the buttery leather seats making only the barest of sounds. I notice how she fidgets with her hands, avoiding my gaze.

"Go on, love," I say, trying to keep my tone light despite the knot forming in my stomach. "What's this confession of yours?"

She takes a deep breath, finally meeting my gaze. "Declan, I...I'm leading you on, though I didn't mean to do that. Being a tease has never been my forte."

I sit back, arching an eyebrow. "Leading me on? That's quite an accusation to level at yourself, darling. Care to elaborate?"

She runs a hand through her hair, tousling the locks. "It's just...I'm not here for a holiday fling or some whirlwind romance. I came to London for a reason, and it's not to fall into bed with the first charming Brit I meet."

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