How To Pleasure A Playboy(22)

"Don't worry, I'll win. Is that all?"

"One other thing. I've managed to get all but three of Lacey's books.  The delay on the last ones is because they've been onsold a third time,  but I should be able to track them down. Do you want me to send the ones  I've got over to you?"

"No," said Bronson, looking at the rust marks on his hands. "The  building's so damp, even in the covered bookcase they might get damaged.  Hold onto them for now."

He hung up and glanced at Crystal who hadn't bothered to pretend not to  listen. The old woman raised her eyebrows, asking a silent question.

"Her father's books," he said. "Lacey had to sell them, but I'm getting them back."

"Aren't you sweet." She gave him a stern look. "I hope you're planning  to take good care of her. She's a special girl, and she's precious to  me. I won't see her hurt."

"It's not like that." He tucked his phone away and reached up for another photograph.

"Oh? Then how is it? You trying to tell me you're buying her father's  books because you're still arguing?" She snorted. "You come in here all  smiles and whistling, and think I don't know what's going on? I wasn't  born an old woman, you know. I was dazzled once or twice in my day, and I  remember how love feels."

"Love?" He wrenched the picture off the wall, almost dropping it on his  toe. "This isn't love. It's just a holiday for me. Seven days away from  my nightclubs and all my commitments. When I go back to it, I'm going to  be busy again."         

     



 

"Busy." She let out a peal of laughter, and Wolf barked, his tail  wagging. "Listen to the businessman, can't fit love into his schedule."

"I think you've forgotten that I'm tearing down the Baxter."

The old woman nodded thoughtfully. "That's a problem. Do you have to pull it down?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Then I can't help you," she said cheerfully, packing another photo into  her box. "Wish I could say she'd forgive you for it, but she won't.  It's a step too far, that one. My advice? Choose love, and leave it  standing."

Bronson reached up for another picture, his mind spinning. Crystal  clearly didn't know what she was talking about if she thought he and  Lacey were in love. He barely knew her, and she probably wouldn't speak  to him again once the Baxter came down.

Besides, tearing down a building to build a twenty-story tower in its  place was a huge, complicated process, and all the cogs had been turning  for some time. He couldn't stop it now, even if he wanted to. Not to  mention that it was the one thing he could do for his brother. The only  thing that had a chance of bringing him home.

"Here." Crystal picked up a photo that had fallen down the side of her  display table. "Look at this." She handed it to him, and he saw it was  an old black-and-white photo of the Baxter. "I took this the day my  husband and I moved in here. Nineteen seventy six, it was. The place was  beautiful then, wasn't it? I remember how happy I was. I thought this  place was a palace."

Was that a tear in the old lady's eye? His heart sank. Up until now,  she'd seemed cheerful enough about leaving. "It was a lovely old  building," he agreed. "But it's been neglected for too long, and it's  too late to save it. Half the walls are rotten, and the termite nests  are the only thing stopping the roof from blowing right off."

She dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Memories, that's all.  I've accepted that it's time for me to go. My new place has a garden  and I've always wanted one."

There was a knock on the old woman's door, and she went to open it. When  Bronson heard Lacey's voice, he put down the picture he was holding and  turned to greet her.

Lacey wore jeans and boots, as usual, and her coat was unbuttoned to  reveal a snug black top underneath. Her hair was wind-blown, and the  cold from outside had made her skin glow. Or maybe it was all the  orgasms she'd had that made it glow so beautifully. Definitely a theory  worth testing.

"I was wondering where you were," she said, raising her eyebrows at the  boxes. "I was hoping maybe you'd given up and gone back to your  mansion."

"Not a chance."

"You're home early," said Crystal.

Lacey shrugged and stuck her hands deep into her jeans pockets. "I  thought I'd better check on Bronson. You know, to make sure he wasn't  cheating on our bet again."

"He's been very helpful." The old woman's eyes were sparkling. "But if  you need him for something, he could come back tomorrow. I've still got a  couple of days before I move."

"Oh, I don't really … " Her cheeks went pink. "I mean, it's nothing that can't wait until you're finished."

"It's time for a break." Bronson came to her rescue. "I have a little  work I need to do anyway, so I'll come back in the morning." He nodded  at Crystal. "We'll be done with time to spare before the movers come."

"If you say so, Bobby Dazzler." She shot him a mischievous smile. "Have  fun, but don't tire yourself out so you can't finish up tomorrow. I'm  counting on you, remember."

Lacey flushed a deep red, and Bronson had to laugh. "I'll keep that in mind," he promised.

Once they were safely back in Lacey's apartment, she rounded on him.  "What was that about? She doesn't know about you and me, does she? What  did you tell her?"

Bronson shook his head. "I didn't need to tell her anything. She can figure things out for herself."

Lacey stripped off her coat and went into the bedroom. "That's bad. What if the Liaison readers figure it out too?"

"You're making a big deal out of nothing." He followed her. "This is just a short-term fling while I'm here, remember?"

"Yes, but do you know how many Team Lacey T-shirts Ally has sold?" She  hung her coat in the closet, then turned to face him. "Almost three  hundred. This whole thing is out of control."         

     



 

"How many Team Bronson shirts?"

She made an impatient sound. "Maybe your reputation would get a boost  from seducing your staunchest opponent, but mine would go down the  toilet."

"Nobody has to know." Pulling her close, he wrapped his arms around her.  Her hands went to his back, but she was stiff and uncertain. He dropped  his cheek to rest on the side of her hair. She smelled good. His body  was already responding to her closeness, and he wanted nothing more than  to take her to bed for the rest of the day and let everything else go  to hell. But his reckless days had come to an abrupt end three years  ago. He'd never let selfish desire rule over his head again.

"We can call an end to it," he said. "Want me to let you go? I'll be  strictly hands off from now on. Tonight I'll take the bed, and you can  have the stretcher in the living room."

She laughed. "Nice try." Then she drew in a long breath. "This is crazy.  I'm not the kind of person who has short-term flings, especially with  someone like you. But I like this too much to stop."

"Then relax and enjoy it." He tilted her face up to his, kissing her  deeply. Though she'd only left the apartment for a few hours, he was  glad she'd come back early. The thought made his lips hesitate on hers,  before he brushed away the moment of discomfort.

Of course he was glad Lacey had come back, after all, he was stuck in  the Baxter, without all the distractions of his regular life. Crystal  might have fanciful thoughts about love, but she was the kind of person  who'd think that way. Ridiculous of her even to suggest it.

When Bronson went back to work, this interlude with Lacey would be over.  Once the Baxter came down, she'd probably refuse to have anything more  to do with him. And with him building his brother's office tower, that  was a good thing. He'd be too busy for romance anyway. And she'd never  fit into his world. They were too different, and she'd hate his  lifestyle.

"Are you okay?" murmured Lacey.

"A hundred percent." He breathed the words into her ear, deliberately  tickling her with his warm breath, and making her giggle and hunch her  shoulder.

"Only a hundred?" She stepped back and pulled her black top off over her head. "How about now?"

"The percentage just shot up." He pulled his own T-shirt off and let it  join her top on the floor. "Along with part of my anatomy."

"This part?" she asked, putting her hand on him and making him draw in a  sharp breath. She laughed, but her voice went husky. "Yeah, I think  that's the place."

He looked down at her Doc Martin Boots, and made a disapproving sound in  the back of his throat. "New rule. The only boots you're allowed to  wear are ones with velcro fastenings."

"Maybe you'll just have to be patient while I take them off."

"Or maybe not." He undid the top of her jeans and pushed them down to  her knees with her panties. Then he eased his hand between her legs to  stroke her. She was wet for him already, so eager that she thrust  forward, urging his fingers inside her.