Page 2 of The Right Mr. Wrong

She turned, looked at the glass in her hand, tempted to lift the thing and drain it—and then the rest of the bottle. But that would be telling and she wasn’t letting him know how much his appearance had thrown her. Nor was she ever letting him know how badly he’d hurt her—not when he was here chasing someone else. Not when he was looking so, so...fine.

She turned back and offered him the glass. ‘Champagne?’ she repeated, pleased her voice sounded almost normal.

He was still looking right at her and his smile deepened. ‘Thank you.’

The tips of his fingers brushed hers as he took the glass. She suppressed the shiver, turning to pour herself a glass with a slow, careful hand. She took a very small, very controlled sip. She drew a breath but her throat was totally dry—as if the liquid she’d just swallowed had evaporated. Actually it probably had, because she was unbearably hot.

So hot.

It would be rude not to look at him, right? Not to talk. Swallowing, she went back to staring.

Tall, dark—and, you got it, handsomer than any of those pretty guys who’d been strutting it down the catwalk all week—Liam Wilson exuded more masculinity than all of them put together. More rugged, more raw—nothing but muscle and determination, all but breathing fire. He was slightly thinner than when she’d last seen him and his hair might be longer, but his edges had hardened—leaving him leaner and, yeah, meaner. His smarts were still visible—splinter sharp in his gold-flecked brown eyes. More than intelligent, he’d been calculating. And, in the end, ruthless. Doubtless he still was.

Mr All or Nothing. The ‘all’ had been fierce intensity. The ‘nothing’ had meant absolute abandonment. He’d enticed her—claimed her completely. And then ditched her.

Well, that was okay. She’d moved on—higher, further than she’d ever imagined she would. So she had pride, right? Good defence. She’d argue the heat in her cheeks was because she’d been working hard.

‘Hold still,’ Gia snapped louder than the steel scissors she was using to free Alannah from the frock.

Neither Liam nor Vivi moved. But the amusement in his eyes deepened, as did the intensity of colour. Too gorgeous for any woman’s good.

‘Did you enjoy the show?’ she asked, trying to suck back some cool. Failing.

‘It was stunning.’

How had he come to Alannah’s attention? Vivi didn’t know what he did any more. Five years ago he’d been on the competitive sailing circuit. Teaching on the side, taking wealthy types like Oliver out, getting them some skills and himself money, status—building a reputation that led to demand. Alannah didn’t seem the type to want to learn to sail.

But Liam had other talents. And he was clearly good at whatever he did now, given the fabric and fit of his suit. Bespoke. Emphasising the bold, beautiful body beneath.

Hot enough to combust, Vivi wrenched her gaze from him, hideously aware that beneath her white shirt her breasts were unfettered and right this second straining towards him.

Stupid body.

But it remembered. Everything. She’d had the hottest sex of her life with this guy—incandescent passion fraught with guilt. Three weeks of burning up bedroom after bedroom, barely surfacing to breathe and travel on. Intense. Insane.

Unsustainable.

Because it ought to have been forbidden. She’d broken all the rules and she knew it. Doubt had wormed its way into her heart. In the end the old cliché was true: lust was not enough. It was no foundation for anything solid to be built on. Even though she’d given him everything. Given up everything for him.

But he hadn’t wanted it. All he’d wanted was—

‘Don’t move too fast—you’ll wreck it.’ Gia’s words rang in the scorching room. Vivi snapped back to the present.

‘Gia’s work is incredible.’ She produced a smile, determined to break the hot-ice moment and fill in the wait for the others to re-emerge.

‘Yes, she’s amazing.’

‘As are the models, of course.’ Vivi couldn’t help an acidic tinge filtering through.

‘Indeed,’ he agreed, his voice deepening.

Of course. Back then she should have known he was nothing but a flirt, but she’d been so young—she’d believed in the happy-ever-after fairy tale. Fool.

‘So, you’re Vivi now?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’ She lifted her chin. It had taken a long time and a lot of effort to become Vivi and she was proud of what she’d achieved.

He angled his head, watching her far too close for comfort. ‘You’ll always be Victoria to me.’

She froze at the friendly tease. ‘Naturally you’d be unable to do something that I’d prefer. You’ve only ever done what you wanted to.’ She covered the slight bite with a laugh and a superglued-on smile.

His smile also flashed wider, but his eyes sparked. ‘Well, I’m still Liam. In case you’d forgotten my name.’

As if she could ever forget his name. As if she could ever forget his face, his mouth, his hands, his body and the way he used it...

She blinked and halted her thoughts. She’d been there, done that, burned the tee shirt. She had self-control now. Grown up, mature, she wasn’t the bowled-over idiot she’d been. And once bitten, she was now ninety-nine times shy of this guy. She should turn tail and run. She couldn’t lose herself again.

Except she was no longer a coward. She was a highly paid, valued and skilled assistant to one of the world’s most iconoclastic talents. And she wasn’t going to let him get to her or cause trouble at a time that was far too important. And that was the point. She was being paid to be here and do a freaking awesome job. So here she’d stay. But she sure wished she could get her bra back on.

‘It’s been a while.’ He offered another easy conversation starter with another too easy smile.

Okay, that was how they’d play it—like vaguely friendly, old acquaintances. ‘I suppose,’ she agreed, as if she’d not really noticed. As if she couldn’t tell him down to the last minute.

He looked amused. ‘You look different.’ His attention lifted to her hair. ‘And yet the same.’ His lids fluttered as he swiftly looked down her body and back to her face. There hadn’t been a blatant stare at her boobs, but she knew he noticed them—she felt it in their response.

‘Still beautiful,’ he added quietly.

Oh, hell. She wasn’t going to let him seduce her with his soft-spoken, smiling wickedness—especially when she knew all it ever had been was words. No matter how sincere he could sound, there was no genuine emotion behind them.

‘While you’re looking as wolfish as ever.’ She deliberately glanced at the screen Alannah was changing behind. ‘You still love a challenge and a chase?’

He laughed. ‘Possibly.’

There was no ‘possible’ about it.

‘So you work for Gia?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I’m very fortunate.’ Vivi maintained her composure. She hadn’t spent the last few years working around models not to pick up a few points—like the ability to smile on demand no matter how you were feeling inside.

At that moment, Gia materialised, the steel scissors still in her hands. ‘Tell me more about your plans,’ she said to Liam.

Vivi leapt at the opportunity to duck behind the screen. Alannah was just pulling on a stunning minidress that should by rights be a tee shirt. She had no bra on either.

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