Beautiful Secret (Beautiful Bastard #4) Read Online Free PDF Page A

hair, sun-kissed cheeks . . . and a truly perfect mouth.
    Ruby was rather exquisite. On some strange instinct, I held my breath.
    She shrugged a little, smiling. “I’m from the States but I’ve never been to New York. I’m really excited.”
    “Ah. Well . . .” I searched for a good response, looking around the small space before eventually settling on “That’s good.”
    I groaned inwardly. That was bad, even for me.
    Her eyes were enormous, green and so clear I registered with one glance down at them that she was unlikely to be a very good liar: her entire world spilled out her through those eyes, and right now she was an anxious heap.
    I was a VP at the firm. Of course she was nervous around me.
    “Will we meet at the airport on Monday morning?” she asked, looking back up. Her tongue slipped out to wet her lips and I fixed my attention to the middle of her forehead.
    “Yes, I believe so,” I began and then stopped. Was I meant to arrange a car for the two of us? Dear God, if three minutes in a lift was this bad, I couldn’t fathom how claustrophobic the forty-five-minute commute to Heathrow wouldfeel. “Unless—”
    “I don’t—”
    “You—”
    “Oh, sorry,” she said, cheeks bright. “I interrupted you. Go ahead.”
    I sighed. “Please, go ahead.”
    This was abysmal. I longed for her to move aside to simply let me pass. Or, for the ground to open up, swallow me whole.
    “I can just meet you at the airport.” She hitched her satchel higher over her shoulder, gesturing inexplicably behind her. “At the gate, I mean. It’ll be really early, you don’t need to—”
    “I won’t. That is, I wouldn’t .”
    She blinked, understandably confused. I’d completely lost track of what we were even talking about. “Okay. Good. Of course, you . . . wouldn’t.”
    I looked over her shoulder to the blessed freedom beyond and then back to her. “That’ll be fine.”
    The door to the lift began to buzz in warning as I continued to hold it ajar, a shrill soundtrack to what had to be one of the most awkward encounters ever.
    “So I’ll see you Monday.” Her voice wavered with nerves, and I felt a cold sweat prick at the back of my neck. “I’m really looking forward to it,” she said.
    “Right. Good.”
    With a little tilt of her head, and a final blush that exploded rather sweetly across her cheeks, she stepped off the lift.
    Without really intending to, my eyes drifted to her backsideas she went. It was round, high, perfectly shaped in her smooth, dark skirt. I could imagine the curve of it in my palm, could still smell the whiff of rose water she left in her wake.
    I stepped out into the dark lobby and followed her toward the exit. Without effort, my mind drifted to thoughts of how her breasts would fill my hands, the feel of her mouth on me, my palms on her backside. I wasn’t rubbish in bed, was I? And even though Portia had generally treated sex as a favor to me, she had never once failed to enjoy—
    This unconscious flash of interest was quashed when Tony emerged from the stairwell, giving me a wink and a little wiggle of his brow, murmuring, “Shagfest,” as Ruby rounded the corner. Left in its place was a sour twinge of shame for letting his earlier suggestion worm its way into my head.
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    Growing up with twelve people in the house, air travel simply didn’t happen often, and when it did—the odd puddle jumper with a few kids to Ireland and once, when it was only me and Rebecca left at home, Mum and Dad took us to Rome to see the pope—it put the entire house in an uproar of preparation. We had regular Sunday clothes that weren’t as posh as our Christmas mass kits, and even those were yards below our air travel outfits. It was a hard habit to break, even when dressing before the sun rose, but this history dictated why I found myself at Heathrow, wearing a suit at four thirty on Monday morning.
    By contrast, Ruby sprinted in just at my panic point—when the flight