The Secrets She Must Tell - Lucy King Page 0,6

come back? Who knew?

As she followed the doorman up the stairs at the back of the club her heart began to thump, not with excitement, as it had the last time she’d been here, but with nerves. How was this going to go? She didn’t have a clue. On one level she was sure that seeking Finn out was the right—the only—thing to do. Yet, on another, she didn’t know him, she didn’t know how he was going to react, and therefore the outcome was scarily unpredictable.

At the top of two flights of stairs Muscles rapped on a door and opened it. He stood to one side and gestured for her to go in. Georgie took a deep breath in through her nose that she let out slowly through her mouth, and, on legs that felt like jelly, stepped forwards.

And there he was. Standing at the window in the shadows with his back to her, the same broad, muscled back she’d raked her nails down while gasping his name and writhing with pleasure.

The door closed behind her. Finn turned and her breath left her lungs. She’d forgotten just how attractive he was. How breathtaking the impact of his indigo gaze on her could be. The intensity of his focus sent an unexpected bolt of heat shooting through her that for the briefest of moments sliced through the icy numbness she’d lived with for what felt like for ever and made her wish she had the energy to care about the whole make-up-hair-clothes thing.

As the seconds stretched and the silence throbbed she dragged her gaze from his and ran it over the rest of him. He looked harder than she remembered, as if life had knocked him about a bit. Less forgiving too, which perhaps didn’t bode well for this meeting. Possibly even a bit wary about why she was turning up out of the blue like this. None the less compelling, though. None the less in command as he stood there utterly still, utterly in control, his feet apart and his hands in his pockets. And if he seemed bigger and broader than she remembered...well, maybe that was because she’d shrunk.

She lifted her eyes back up to his and she thought she saw a flicker of heat, of shock, in the depths of his. But it disappeared before she could work out if she was right, and whatever he’d been thinking was now hidden behind a mask of neutrality. She couldn’t gauge how he felt about her being here. Or if he felt anything at all, for that matter. Not that he had any reason to. What they’d had had been a mutually agreed one-night stand, nothing more. She’d hardly expected the same laid-back, full-on seduction she’d been on the receiving end of when she’d initially approached him all those months ago. She wasn’t expecting anything. Hoping for, yes, but expecting, no.

‘Hello,’ she said hoarsely, her heart pounding and her mouth dry. ‘So you probably don’t remember me, but—’

‘I remember you.’

‘Good,’ she said with a shaky attempt at a smile. That made things slightly easier. At least she didn’t have to first explain how they knew each other. ‘How have you been?’

A shadow flitted across his expression. ‘Fine. You?’

Not quite so fine, actually, although there was no way she was telling him how not fine she’d been. She had far too much to lose. ‘Couldn’t be better.’

‘I’m delighted to hear it.’

‘I can’t believe I found you.’

‘How hard have you been trying?’

‘Very. I didn’t have much to go on. Just your first name and the photo I took when we left here that night.’

He gave the briefest of nods. ‘Just in case.’

‘It seemed sensible.’

‘You kept it.’

‘As a memento.’ Which, in hindsight, was deeply ironic when she’d ended up with a memento of a totally different kind. ‘Anyway, I remembered that you looked comfortable at the bar. You didn’t pay the bill. I wondered if you had a tab and, if you did, whether you might be a regular. Now I know differently.’ She glanced around the softly lit space that contained a mahogany desk, a couple of chairs and sage green walls lined with books. ‘Do you manage the club downstairs?’

‘I own it.’

Right. That made sense. He’d said he worked in hospitality and he hadn’t struck her as the type to take orders. ‘No wonder no one threw you out for wearing jeans.’

His dark brows snapped together in a deep frown. ‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

‘As fascinating as this trip down memory lane is, Georgie,