Page 36 of Daring the Bad Boy

“You didn’t treat me like shit. You were grieving,” she said, trying to make herself believe it, to let the hurt go. What good did it do to go over it all again?

He shook his head. “I was using you because I was lonely. We both know it. And when you saw through that I behaved like an asshole. Don’t let me off so lightly. And don’t blame yourself for chrissake. Like you did with that dickhead, Vince.”

“I’m not blaming myself.” Or she was trying very hard not to. “But I can’t….”

“What if I told you, I don’t want to be that guy anymore?” he said, cutting into her frantic denial. The sincerity on his face silencing her. “The guy who uses women and then discards them, because I got hung up on something I thought my mom did, that never even happened. I want a second chance. I screwed up because I was in a bad place but I’m not anymore. I swear.”

“But that’s…” What was he saying? “I’m not sure what you’re asking me?”

“I thought we had a connection,” he said. “The sex was awesome, but it wasn’t just that. You looked at me and actually saw me. Instead of all the bullshit I want people to see. No one’s done that for as long as I can remember. It scared the crap out of me at first. I’m not going to deny it. But if we could just start over. I could take you on a proper date. To the movies? Or a fancy restaurant?” He cocked his head to one side. “Or even an art gallery. I know one that’s got a new exhibition which is only going to be on for one night.” That flirtatious smile lit his eyes and made the pulse beat low in her abdomen.

“You don’t have to cancel the exhibition,” she said, because she really didn’t want him to anymore. The photographs had taken on a whole new meaning, that she hadn’t even thought possible. “I think I might love it more than I thought.”

Almost as much as I think I might love you.

“That’s cool, but I can lose the exhibition,” he said. His palms caressed her waist, making her pulse jump and jiggle with anticipation. “The only thing I can’t lose is you. Please tell me I haven’t totally blown it with you?” She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. And she wondered if his throat was as dry as hers. “I want to see what happens next,” he said. “Don’t you?”

“I…” Joy and excitement backed up in her lungs. “You really want to give this a proper go?” she asked, the old insecurities having one last hurrah.

He swore softly, then cupped her cheek. “Do you have any idea how much I had to promise the curator to get this show together in under six weeks, just so I could schmooze you into giving me another shot?”

She shook her head, sniffing loudly – tears stinging her eyes, but tears of joy this time, as she finally realized why he’d waited so long to contact her.

Good Lord, beneath the brooding bad boy was a romantic. A romantic almost as hopeless as her. What she’d thought was over-confidence, disinterest, had just been caution and insecurity. And a desire to impress her.

As if he hadn’t impressed her far too much alre

ady.

He cradled her jaw, lifted her face to nip at her bottom lip, then licked the tiny bite. Fire blazed down to her core. And the bubble of hope and optimism pushed out the last of her fear.

“Put it this way,” he said. “You owe me a lot of blow jobs. And I always collect.”

She laughed, the delight in his teasing warming her heart. “Not if I collect first.” She grabbed his ears to pull his head down, then whispered against his lips. “Now shut up and kiss me. I dare you.”

Epilogue

‡

“So where’s lover man tonight? I thought you guys would be doing something special to celebrate your first shag anniversary?” Tash sent Rosie a cheeky grin across the same booth in the same Soho bar they’d shared a year ago.

“Is there such a thing as a first shag anniversary?” Imo supplied, helping herself to the jug of strawberry daiquiris that had just arrived at the table, and which her friends had decided was now a Valentine’s tradition. “What is it? The latex one?”

“Very funny.” Rosie smiled, trying not to let the apprehension that had been churning in her gut for two days show. “He’s caught in a snowstorm at O’Hare airport, according to the text I got late last night.” And she’d been stressing about it ever since. She needed him to be here, with her. He’d only been gone for five days on an assignment. But she’d missed him terribly. And more than that, she had news. Amazing, exciting, shocking, life-changing news. News she couldn’t tell him over a scratchy Skype connection or via text, and which she had to tell him soon, or she’d expire from nerves, because she had no clue how he was going to react to it.

“So I guess he won’t be home tonight,” she added, wishing for the thousandth time that day that he was with her, and not stuck in some airport bar in Chicago waiting for a connecting flight. Or worse, flying home in a blizzard.

She pressed her palm to her stomach to stop the knot of anxiety growing any bigger.

“Bummer, seems Valentine’s Day is still cursed for you,” Imo said as she sipped her drink, always keen to look on the dark side.

“Hardly.” Rosie swallowed to ease the thickening in her throat, and smiled her first genuine smile since she’d gotten Cal’s text the night before – as she thought about the man who had come into her life on Valentine’s Day a year ago, and changed everything. “And anyway, our first shag anniversary isn’t tonight, it’s tomorrow night.” She pushed the glass of strawberry daiquiri away that Tash had insisting on pouring her, despite the soda she’d ordered instead. “Which is why I’m not risking one of these. I don’t want to have a killer hangover when he gets here tomorrow.”

There was another reason she wasn’t drinking tonight. She took a steadying breath, the panic kicking under her breastbone again.

Don’t freak out.

This was just another twist in the breath-taking rollercoaster ride her life had become in the last year – ever since she’d walked up to Cal and dared to kiss him.

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