The Playboy and the Single Mum (Vintage Love Book 2) (5 page)

She climbed up into the driver’s seat, which was on the wrong side. It should have made her feel more comfortable, sitting in what would be the passenger side of the vehicle on a British car. Except the steering wheel and pedals before her negated that idea. But if she did manage to move out of London with Max, she’d need to be able to drive. And who better to teach her than a professional driver?

“First, you have to move the seat so you’re comfortable.” Daniel took her hand and showed her where the buttons were to reposition the seat. He then helped her adjust the mirrors.

“It’s so big. Don’t you have anything smaller?”

“I’ve never had a woman complain about the size before,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. She leveled her best “I am not amused” stare at him. “It’s the only one we have with an automatic transmission,” he continued. “I thought you’d prefer to master steering and braking before we move on to gear changes.”

“Right.” She glanced over at him once more. “Are you sure I can do this?”

“Absolutely. If you can stop yourself from punching your annoying boss in the face, then you have the ability to handle this.”

Maybe instead of learning to drive she should channel that control into forgetting Daniel’s kiss. “Here goes nothing.” She put the car in drive and pressed down on the accelerator. The SUV lurched forward like it was shot from a cannon. Quickly she stomped on the brake, sending Daniel flying into the dashboard.

He put on his seat belt then said, “Well, you’ve got the F1 start down. Let’s try again with a little less enthusiasm.”

This time she pressed more gently and the vehicle crept forward. After two laps around the fountain in the circular driveway, Daniel pointed toward the back of the house. “I think you’ve got the hang of it now. Let’s go for a drive.”

“What? Outside? I’m not licensed.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll stay on private roads.”

He directed her down a narrow path with hedges on both sides that reminded her of the country lane to her mother’s cottage. Except at the end of this drive she wouldn’t have to cope with a depressed, morbidly obese former model who’d pulled her daughter down into the abyss with her.

“Relax,” Daniel said, running his finger along the white of her knuckles. “You’re doing excellent.”

She willed her muscles to release, but she was too tense, too aware of the man next to her. They stopped after a few minutes while Daniel opened a gate in the ten-foot-high stone wall. While he was out of the vehicle, she peeled her hands off the steering wheel and flexed them. This was why people should learn to drive in their teens, when they thought they could do anything. Except teenage Lexy had been so overweight she’d have hardly fit behind the wheel.

Eventually they arrived at a small lake and Daniel told her to put the vehicle in park and turn off the engine. Stiffly, she got out to join him by the shore. In the distance, the chateau stood tall and proud, a testament to his family’s wealth. Except she knew how empty and lonely the house now was. Appearances were deceptive. And not only with buildings.

“You come here often?” she asked when Daniel’s silence became uncomfortable.

“Every time I’m home.”

“It’s beautiful; I can see why it’s a favorite place.”

“I spent a lot of time here as a teen; when I wasn’t racing, that is.” His green eyes stared into hers. “I was reading, not making out with girls.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she protested. Sure, she’d thought it, but he couldn’t read minds.

He ran a hand through his hair and then turned back towards the lake. “Lexy, I’m not going to apologize for last night. I didn’t kiss you because I hadn’t met my quota of women for the week. I’ve wanted to kiss you since you walked into that
maudit
boardroom in London, looking like the sexiest librarian I’ve ever imagined. But I get it that you don’t feel the same. So, from now on I’m hands off; not because I don’t want you, but because I respect you.”

“What if I don’t want to be hands off?”

When he looked at her again his eyes smoldered and his sexy smile was back. “Then you have to make the first move.”

She broke the eye contact this time. Damn, it was hard to resist him when he was all sensitive and caring. She almost wished he’d revert to the playboy so she could shut him down. Battling her desires was no fun at all.

Hadn’t she learned her lesson from Wesley? Her ex had been all sweetness and light until they were married. Once his ring was on her finger, he’d turned into a dictator and treated her like a servant.

Yet despite all the nasty things she’d said to Daniel, he hadn’t once retaliated. It was going to take more than her halfway-to-a-psychology-degree experience to figure him out.

If she discovered what made him tick, would it then blow up in her face? The last thing she needed was to make the same mistake twice. Especially when there were so many great new ones to make.

Lexy pulled the straightener through her hair, trying to tame the frizz. It had been years since she’d bothered to flatten it, and it was taking twice as long as she remembered. She glanced at the clock—in ten minutes she was supposed to meet Daniel in the
petit salon.
And she still hadn’t decided what to wear. Which Daniel would show up at dinner tonight? Playboy Daniel with his slick moves and devastating smile, or the more insidious and harder-to-resist gentleman Daniel—the one who held her hand at the lake when she’d slipped going back to the vehicle and who was more excited to show her his books than his supercar collection?

The drive home from the lake had taken half the time, as she’d acquired a little confidence. Daniel had trusted her to drive into the underground garage. Given the other vehicles parked there, she’d been glad he’d selected the Land Rover for her to practice with. Every other car probably cost more than her flat. Max, who seemed to have genetically inherited a love of fast cars from his grandfather, would have shrieked with joy at so many of his favorites in one place.

Daniel had been a bit quieter on the drive back but praised her again when she got them home without crashing. A man who routinely drove more than 200 miles an hour, he hadn’t complained once at her snail’s pace.

Her hair was as good as it was going to get, so she crossed to the wardrobe and did eeny meeny miney moe, Max’s favorite selection algorithm, to pick her outfit. The red dress won and she slipped it on with a wicked pair of black stilettos. If heaven were a shoe collection, she was dancing on the clouds already. They were way beyond her budget, so she was going to wear them every chance she got. Which would she miss more when these eight weeks were over: Daniel or the shoes?

When she entered the
petit salon
she had her answer. Daniel. There were just some things a man could do for a girl that even the most amazing shoes couldn’t. He was so stunningly gorgeous, wearing a dark suit, crisp white shirt, and burgundy tie that her breath whooshed out. He turned, his green eyes appraising her, and from the slow, sensuous smile that curved his lips, he appreciated what he saw. This was new for her, feeling desirable. She liked it. It was as if her internal lamp had finally been plugged into an electrical outlet.

Like the previous night, dinner flew by in a blur as they discussed the upcoming races and what she knew of the tracks. She asked after some of the people she remembered from her childhood who still hung around F1. Every time Daniel tried to steer the conversation to her current life, she maneuvered it back to his career. After all, his was the glamorous lifestyle. Her working, cleaning, and worrying she wasn’t doing enough for Max would hardly keep an adrenaline-junkie like Daniel interested five minutes.

She drank almost the whole bottle of wine by herself, maybe a bit too much. Daniel rarely touched his glass. Not surprising; his job required complete control.

Usually she was more restrained. Being solely responsible for Max meant she’d had to play it safe for so long. Just for once she wanted to let loose and enjoy herself. And wasn’t she in the perfect position to do that now? Eight weeks with the sexiest man alive, who had said he wanted her. What was she waiting for?

Plus, wouldn’t it be better to throw herself at Daniel now, where they didn’t have an audience if, once he discovered what was hidden under her clothes, he decided he wasn’t interested in her after all? Wesley had been so disgusted by her body he’d only have sex with her with the lights off. While the logical side of her brain said she couldn’t paint every man with her ex’s brush, she also couldn’t forget three hellish months of marriage. This time with Daniel would be just an affair. No heartbreak waited for her at the end. She’d call the shots. She’d be the one to walk away this time. Then she could go back to being good-girl, single mum Lexy, but this time with a secret smile.

“Want to go to the library? I could show you some of the old books at the back,” Daniel suggested as she placed her serviette on the table beside her. She searched his face but couldn’t find a hint of the playboy. He’d been a perfect gentleman all evening, apart from the lustful look he’d given her when she’d first arrived in the
petit salon
. Would he really wait for her to make the first move?

“I’ll meet you there in ten minutes,” she replied, forcing an enigmatic smile onto her face. Maybe he’d think she was going to “slip into something more comfortable.” In reality, she had to call Max before he went to bed, because as much as she wanted to start her adventure she was still first and foremost a mum.

Except Max was already asleep when she called. With Sonia’s husband out of work, he’d taken the boys to the park to play football so Sonia could rest. Max and Andrew had been so tired they’d barely made it through dinner and a bath before conking out. Lexy hid her disappointment behind a smile and promised to call first thing in the morning.

When she stepped into the library, soft music was playing, the gas fireplace was on, and Daniel lounged on the chair. He’d removed his jacket and tie and undone a couple of buttons on his shirt. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, her hand shaking as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He’d laid the groundwork for a seduction, but she had to take it from there.

And if they were going to get physical, she’d have to tell him about her body.

“That was quick,” Daniel commented as she perched on the edge of the sofa.

She put her phone down on the side table. “The person I wanted to speak with wasn’t available. I’ll try again tomorrow morning.”

He nodded and stared into the fire for a moment. “Would you like to see the books?”

Damn, it hadn’t been a line; he really meant to show her his literary collection.

“Sure.” She accompanied him to the back of the room. Leaning against the wall was a painted portrait of Daniel in his racing gear. Except his face was blurry. “Is this another of your sister-in-law’s paintings? I guess she didn’t have time to finish it before she left.” Lexy moved closer, drawn by the image as much as by the man.

“It’s done. Maya said that when I’m in my racing gear I know exactly who I am. But when I’m away from the track, I’m not so sure.” There was a challenge in his voice.

“Well, that’s not uncommon. Your entire focus is on driving. To be the best in your sport, you have to be single-minded.”

“Why do I sense there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere?” He crossed his arms over his abdomen. Did he realize he was mirroring the stance in the photo?

“It’s not healthy. Not in the long run. You need something outside of F1, away from the track, to make you happy. If something were to happen, if you weren’t able to drive any more, what would you do?”

“I don’t know. Hang around here and actually read all these books?” He tried to laugh it off, but she’d seen the consequences of not having anything in life to keep a person from spiraling into depression.

This was her chance. “Let me tell you a story. But you’ll need a drink for this one.” Actually she needed the drink but didn’t want to imbibe alone. By telling him a bit more about her past, she’d be able to discern if he’d be turned off by her body or not. With one last glance at the portrait, she returned to the fireplace.

“Sounds serious.” He walked over to a cabinet and returned a minute later with two glasses of amber liquid. Expecting whiskey, she was surprised at the sweet smell. “Cognac,” he explained. “Not really my thing, but my brother likes it.”

She took a tentative sip, enjoying the way it rolled on her tongue, making her mouth a little numb before she swallowed. She sank down onto the sofa, relieved when he sat next to her. He fiddled with the material of her dress, sliding the fabric between his long fingers. Her body tingled, waiting for his touch. Maybe she should just skip the story and kiss him.

“I told you a bit about my parents. What I didn’t tell you was that my mother had a complete breakdown after the divorce. She was a model when she met my father. Not a huge success but pretty enough—tall and elegant with long, blond hair. I’m sure you know the type.”

He nodded, his eyes roaming her face. If he was looking for some resemblance to her mother, he wouldn’t find it. Unfortunately, she’d inherited more of her father’s genes.

“All she had were her looks and her marriage, which was really her ticket to an easy life. Papa had money. She liked money. When she caught my father cheating, she figured her looks weren’t enough anymore to keep a man, so she let herself go. Actually, letting herself go is a misnomer; it was more like she threw herself off a cliff.”

“But she had you.”

“I wasn’t enough either. My mother was very narcissistic. She never really understood my father and the pressure he was under, and I don’t think she ever tried. It was all about the glamour and the parties for her. Anyway, after it was over, she sank into a deep depression and dragged me down with her. She ate constantly and insisted that I join her. Remember I said my father last saw me on my sixteenth birthday? Well, what he saw was a morbidly obese teenager who could barely get off the sofa to greet him.”

She searched Daniel’s face, expecting to see disgust. She saw compassion instead. He put his drink down and took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. “No one looking at you now would ever think you were once overweight.”

“Thanks. But I know I’m still a little heavy. Certainly I’m not like the majority of women you come across on the circuit.” Within a week she’d be standing next to some of them. It was going to be obvious.

“Can I tell you something the majority of women don’t seem to realize? Most men prefer women with substance. When I’m with a skinny woman, I worry that if I hold her too tight, she’ll snap and I’ll be left holding the pieces.” He raised his arms as though dangling two sections of woman. “Excuse me, I seem to have broken this one. Terribly sorry.”

She smiled at his attempt to humor her.

He drew a circle on the back of her hand with his index finger, and she repressed the shiver of delight. “When did you lose the excess weight?”

Finishing her drink, she put the glass down on the table next to Daniel’s. “As soon as I went away to college and was away from my mother, I could make my own eating choices and I became healthier. I started to exercise and gradually got slimmer. But my body still carries the evidence. I have masses of stretch marks, and although I’ve had one excess skin removal surgery, I’ve lost more weight since and have saggy bits. My skin’s a bit crepey…”

She checked again for revulsion on his face but saw none. Instead he stood and began unbuttoning his shirt. Okay, not the reaction she was expecting, but she was fine with it. More than fine. He tossed his shirt onto the sofa and pointed at a long, jagged scar near his shoulder. The firelight danced on his skin, and her fingers itched to join the party.

“I smashed my clavicle in a racing accident when I was fifteen. The bone came right through the skin. And here”—he took her hand and ran her fingers over a bump on his side—“I broke a rib luging down the stairs on the cook’s baking sheets when I was seven. I never told Grand-Papa I was injured, so it healed with a bump. I have others.”

She wasn’t quite sure what his point was; she was too mesmerized by the feel of his warm skin under her fingers. He took her hand in his again and pulled her to her feet and into his arms, his eyes searching hers as she raised her face. “What I’m trying to say”—his voice was deep and husky—“is that my scars are due to accidents and stupidity. Any marks you bear are battle scars acquired in your war against obesity, your fight to save your life. You shouldn’t be ashamed. Wear them with pride. It takes a strong woman to pull herself out of the abyss.”

She blinked back the tears forming in her eyes. Not even her husband who had claimed to love her had made her feel good about her body.

“Thank you,” she managed past the lump in her throat.

His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb rubbing over her bottom lip, pulling it gently away from her teeth. She leaned in closer, the heat from his naked chest encouraging her to snuggle. “Lexy, I said I’d wait for you to make the first move.”

“Consider me moved.”

“Are you sure? If you need more time—”

“No.” He dropped his hand and she quickly wrapped hers around his waist, drawing him back to her. “I mean no, I don’t need more time. But I should tell you, I’m not very good at sex so don’t expect too much.”

“Not very good? How is that even possible?”

“My ex-husband—”

“Forget him. This is between you and me. No one else.”

He lowered his head and took her lips in a kiss so gentle, so sweet, it shook her to her core. She’d expected raw passion, maybe a bit of frenzied pulling-off of clothes. And despite Sonia’s warning, she hadn’t come prepared. Hopefully Daniel carried condoms. After all, he was the playboy.

“Dance with me,” he whispered against her ear. Ed Sheeran’s “Thinking Out Loud” began to play through the music system. Daniel swayed against her, and her body responded.

“I thought we were going to…”

“In time. We have all night. I want to make this memorable.”

All night? In ten minutes he’d be mopping her up off the floor. And as for memorable, seeing as she hadn’t had sex in almost four years, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t forget this.