Luca's Bad Girl - By Amy Andrews Page 0,25

She’d learned to chug beer and drink shots at uni just to annoy her parents.

‘Beer is better.’

She stood in front of him, one hand shoved into the front pocket of her skinny jeans, the other one wrapped around the bottle. She was wearing a floaty top that fell off her shoulder, which he studiously ignored.

He raised his glass to the light. ‘Scotch is the only drink.’ It smoothed out the edges and helped with the pain. Physical and mental.

Evie inspected him. Sprawled on the windowsill, his shaggy look was sexy as hell. Unlike other guys she knew, the stubble was real, hinting at disregard rather than fashion. It also lent authenticity to the boast she’d once overheard—apparently he only ever got three or four hours’ sleep a night.

She shook her head. Why? Was it deliberate? Did his brilliant mind never shut off or was it involuntary? Was the mysterious injury responsible for Finn’s chronic insomnia? Or had his time in the army left him with nightmares? It was rumoured he’d been to Afghanistan and Iraq.

Or was it just the redhead or any of the other women he was seen with, keeping him up all night?

She didn’t understand why she felt so compelled to try and figure him out. But she did. ‘What did Rupert want?’

Finn, the glass halfway to his mouth, paused slightly before lifting it to his lips and draining the entire glass.

‘I need another drink,’ he said.

‘I heard you and Rupert talking a couple of weeks ago. It was in the evening … in the outpatients department.’

Finn felt his hackles rise. ‘Spying for Daddy?’ He knew how chummy the hospital’s biggest benefactor was with pernickety Eric Frobisher.

Evie heard the low menace in his voice and watched as his piercing blue eyes practically bored into her.

‘He mentioned surgery.’ Evie paused and perused his hard, shuttered face for any signs of softening. ‘Is there something wrong, Finn?’

Finn heard the quiet strength in her voice. As if it never occurred to her that he wouldn’t confess. The kind of strength that came from growing up in a nurturing environment where a person’s opinion, even a child’s, mattered.

‘I think you should stick with diagnosing complex heart conditions.’

She ploughed on despite his rigid jaw and frigid stare. ‘There are rumours about you being wounded in the army. Do you have some residual effects from that?’

Finn’s heart pounded in his chest. Only little Miss Rich Girl would dare to push him like this. He stood, instantly towering over her, and was gratified to see her take a step back, to see she wasn’t so sure of herself after all. ‘I need a drink.’

He brushed past her without looking back.

Conversation over.

At two am only Mia and Evie remained as Luca shut his door on the last of his guests. He caught Mia’s eye. She’d been a walking, talking temptation all night and now it was time to pay the piper.

Mia grinned at him. ‘I’m going to stay and help Luca clean up,’ she said to Evie, carrying some glasses into the kitchen and setting them on the substantial granite bench top beside the sink.

Evie nodded, tired after her long day shift and distracted by thoughts of Finn, who had hastily downed a drink after their chat then left with the redhead clinging to his arm. ‘I’ll help.’

Luca, picking up some more glasses behind where Evie was located, shook his head and mouthed, ‘No.’

Mia grinned some more. ‘No, Evie. You’re done in. Go to bed. I won’t be far behind you.’ She was so revved up she’d probably come in under a minute.

‘Oh, but—’

‘No buts,’ Luca insisted. ‘Go. We’ll be fine.’

Evie was exhausted. ‘Well … if you’re sure …?’

Luca nodded, vigorously aware that Mia had turned on the tap and was leaning over the sink. ‘Absolutely.’

He ushered Evie out the door and shut it with quiet determination then leant against it, hard. He watched Mia fill the sink with glassware through a haze of high-octane lust.

‘Leave that,’ he said as he slowly prowled towards her.

Mia looked at him and grinned. It faded in a flash at the naked intent in his gaze. ‘It’s just a few dishes,’ she said lamely as her insides melted to the consistency of chocolate sauce.

Just like his lust-drunk eyes.

Luca reached her side, flicked off the tap, swept the remaining dirty dishes into the sink with a huge clatter, grabbed her around the waist and boosted her up onto the bench.

Mia opened her mouth to protest against the tinkling glass and chipping