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One Night Only
JC Harroway
The romantic vs the cynicChemistry is all they have in common!New York lawyer Ash has moved to London to escape his demons—and one red-hot night with gorgeous stranger Essie is the perfect distraction! He’s ready to forget about her entirely…until she walks into his office for her first day at work. She’s a romantic, seeking her happily-ever-after—he’s a distrustful cynic who can’t commit… Could a sexy fling be the best mistake of their lives?
The romantic vs. the cynic
Chemistry is all they have in common!
New York lawyer Ash has moved to London to escape his demons—and one red-hot night with gorgeous stranger Essie is the perfect distraction! He’s ready to forget about her entirely...until she walks into his office for her first day at work. She’s a romantic, seeking her happily-ever-after—he’s a distrustful cynic who can’t commit... Could a sexy fling be the best mistake of their lives?
“DARE is Harlequin’s hottest line yet. Every book should come with a free fan. I dare you to try them!”
—Tiffany Reisz, international bestselling author
Lifelong romance addict JC HARROWAY lives in New Zealand. Writing feeds her very real obsession with happy endings and the endorphin rush they create.
You can follow her at jcharroway.com (http://www.jcharroway.com), facebook.com/jcharroway (http://www.facebook.com/jcharroway), instagram.com/jcharroway (http://www.instagram.com/jcharroway) and twitter.com/jcharroway (http://twitter.com/jcharroway).
If you liked Playing Dirty, why not try
My Royal Sin by Riley Pine No Strings by Cara Lockwood Playing Dirty by Lauren Hawkeye
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
One Night Only
JC Harroway
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07124-6
ONE NIGHT ONLY
© 2018 JC Harroway
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To E
for inspiring the fun, bubbly, caring Essie. x
Contents
Cover (#ub25a6151-07f2-5248-bad9-b28c443c9eaa)
Back Cover Text (#ufde0e5ee-1105-5853-90f7-777cf88a32ee)
About the Author (#u466a43ff-f99f-590c-8991-1dbeae212f49)
Booklist (#u32b4f126-6950-5bd7-a176-da4e65115cb5)
Title Page (#u7b4939d8-a738-5b4d-9cd8-ffb2988d3bf4)
Copyright (#u84eb46db-0901-5da6-bc10-7c936e3b8a9a)
Dedication (#ue2f4f002-b87d-51de-96d6-5e15a13da825)
CHAPTER ONE (#u848224ba-3562-598b-855a-e0b88121b113)
CHAPTER TWO (#u791be582-19bb-5777-8a6b-50753b3e6552)
CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u849661c9-0378-53f9-bf41-efdb4bcead06)
IF THIS SETTING, so far from the wreckage he’d left behind in New York, couldn’t provide ballast, nowhere could. Ash Jacob closed his eyes, sucked in a deep breath and focussed on the sun warming his back, the hypnotic chatter of English birdsong and the continuous distant hum of London traffic.
‘Shit!’
The violent exclamation pulled him up short. So he wasn’t the only one having a bad day. His vision hazed as the bright July sunlight hit his retinas once more, his surroundings sharpening into focus. He stretched one arm along the back of the park bench, the wooden slats of which dug into his fatigued muscles—a reminder that he’d spent twelve hours on a plane yesterday, largely bent like a pretzel despite his first-class seat.
‘Bloody, buggering, shit.’
What a charming turn of phrase.
His mouth twitched and his mood lightened. She stood a short distance away from his secluded spot in St James’s Park, her short, flowery dress revealing bare, shapely legs; golden hair streaked with enough russet to turn her long ponytail to fire in the right light; a small denim backpack slung over one shoulder, which made her appear younger than what he estimated as mid-twenties.
A student? A tourist? A fellow soul, far from home?
One delicate finger jabbed at the screen of her phone, as if she could poke it back to life by dogged persistence alone.
Intrigue and a flicker of lust made Ash sit up straighter. Her quirky English accent and endearing choice of expletives reminded him that New York was a long way away. And yes, the women in his exclusive, affluent circle had the kind of polish and poise that this beguiling stranger seemed, at first glance, to lack, but the effect of the jut of her pert breasts and the cut of her fine-boned features in profile on his jet-lagged libido equalled, if not surpassed, his usual level of interest in the opposite sex. An interest that circumstances had shaped into two simple rules: one—on his terms; and two—one night only.
He shifted on the hard seat, his jeans becoming skintight, at least around the groin. The beauty dropped the hand holding the offending device to her side and cast her wide eyes around their corner of the park.
Ash slammed his own stare closed again, pretending to enjoy the formerly relaxing ambience. He’d come to London to work on a joint business venture with his oldest friend, not to rescue an English damsel, no matter how long her legs or how curvaceous her ass. And more importantly, he’d come to get away from public drama and get his life back under control. Control that couldn’t come soon enough.
‘Um, excuse me...’
Damn.
She’d moved that delectable derrière of hers closer. There were few people around, mainly joggers and the odd parent pushing a stroller. She must be talking to him. Ash relaxed his eyelids and slowed his breathing. Perhaps if she thought he was asleep, she’d leave him alone. Find someone else to rectify her technology issues.
Her footfalls scuffed the gravel of the path.
There was an embarrassed tinkle of laughter.
Right in front of him now.
Close enough for her scent to tickle his nose—light, floral and mixed with the unmistakable smell of sunscreen.
His libido roared anew. Man, would he love to see those curves and that milky skin clad in a bikini and sprawled on a lounger at his holiday place in the Hamptons.
The sexy intruder delicately cleared her throat.
The sweet sound rolled over his out-of-sync senses. Physically, she embodied the epitome of his type. Under other circumstances, he’d turn on the charm, get to know her enough to assess if her persuasion for no-strings sex aligned with his, and pass a satisfactory afternoon between her thighs.
But the last thing he needed right now was an encounter with a woman that beautiful, especially one who awoke his interest to the degree currently rendering him momentarily trapped on the park bench by his tight jeans.
He’d been played in the past—the old, female-inflicted wound recently reopened in the most humiliating and public way being the main reason for his rather hasty departure from New York.
For now, women were categorically off the agenda.
And really, who talked to complete strangers in a city centre park? His appearance today could only be described as dressed down compared to his usual attire of bespoke tailored suits. He’d wanted an escape from the cloying, air-conditioned hotel he’d booked for his first couple of nights in London until the Jacob Holdings apartment had been spring-cleaned. Some fresh air. Green spaces. Anything that helped to reprogram his brain from its current gut-churning cycle of guilt and bile-inducing self-loathing.
So he’d thrown on a T-shirt and his comfortable jeans, both the worse for wear having spent forty-eight hours in a suitcase, forgone shaving off the three days’ worth of scruff and headed outdoors. The casual look was a visual cue that his move to London represented a major change from the norm; a shift from everything he’d lived, breathed and strived for these past ten years: his role in the family business, which was fraught with dysfunctional politics in the hands of his ruthless, manipulative and, as he’d bitterly discovered in the most degrading way, cheating father.
‘Excuse me, are you...okay?’
Ash surrendered to the soothing voice with a sigh that dragged his mind back from the edge of a dark abyss. She wasn’t going to give up. Perhaps she was lost. He didn’t know London that well, but he’d spent enough time here over the years to have a vague sense of direction. Better to hear what she wanted and send her gorgeous ass on its way.
He opened his eyes, forcing his face to exhibit a tight, inquisitive smile instead of the frustration that put his teeth on edge at having the embodiment of feminine temptation literally thrown into his path.
‘Of course. Just enjoying the sun.’
Her answering beam had two opposing effects on his overwrought body: the fullness of her pouty lips direct-messaged his groin with a slug of not wholly unwelcome blood-pounding heat, and her open, friendly stare twitched his shoulders up several notches until his muscles cramped. Were all English women this naive? This trusting? For a man who trusted no one, she was a complete mystery.
‘Oh, good. I don’t suppose I could ask for a favour...?’ She waggled her dead phone in front of his face. ‘My phone just died.’
‘Okay... Are you lost?’
Give her some damn directions and watch her groan-worthy legs walk away.
But then his view would be far less appealing.
Another megawatt smile warmed his insides and made him think of childhood trips to Coney Island.
‘No. I wondered if you could take a picture for me.’ She pointed at the view of the London Eye in the distance. ‘On your phone...and perhaps...send it to me?’ Her voice wavered and she curled some escaped strands of hair at her nape around her index finger.
His expression must have been comical. Had he woken up in some parallel universe or was her friendliness some sort of ancient British ritual? Did he care if it meant a few more seconds surreptitiously eyeing her glorious body and fantasising about her naked under him?
Ash shifted, discreetly readjusting himself in his pants as he allowed his gaze to properly take in every inch of porcelain beauty. Up close, she was stunning. Flawless creamy skin, enormous sky-blue eyes and a charming dusting of copper freckles across her slightly upturned nose. And on first impressions—the embodiment of a sunny disposition.
And if she wanted a photo, she was clearly a tourist. Perhaps this was her last day in London?
Another point to his libido.
As if matching his interest, she flicked her stare over him from head to toe, skimming over his creased tee and well-worn jeans and flooding his body with heat to rival the summer sun. Was she flirting?
‘Sure,’ he said.
Why not? He could surely oblige her with a photo and perhaps anything else she might want. He lifted one eyebrow as her eyes returned to his face. Bright spots of red appeared on her high cheekbones as she straightened the charming little head tilt she’d employed while checking him out. Yes, perhaps she was exactly what he needed... A little help with his current hard-on predicament. She seemed to share his physical interest. Perhaps that would cure his mind-numbing restlessness and get his usual focus back on track.
The tension snapped with her tinkling laughter. Ash grinned back. At least she owned her flagrant sexual curiosity in him—how refreshing. He reassessed her age—perhaps she wasn’t as sweet as she looked. She flicked her ponytail, sunny smile back in place.
He shifted on the bench, fishing his phone from his back pocket. The angle of the sun meant her dress was practically see-through from his position. Should he tell her? Or just enjoy her shapely silhouette? Imagine those long legs wrapped around his waist...
No.
His mind zapped to ancient history come back to haunt him. His recent discovery of the lengths his ex had gone to in order to deceive him, and the depth of that lie, only confirmed his stand on the opposite sex. He was done with women, unless they, like him, wanted one thing only and understood the rules.
The weathered wooden rungs of the bench creaked as she sat next to him. ‘You’re American, aren’t you?’
