Page 9 of Hard Lessons

“You smell good,” David said, tipping close again and inhaling.

“It’s called Temptation.” She held out her wrist, baring the inner aspect to him.

David drew it to his nose. He breathed deep.

Serena crossed one leg over the other, flashing her stockinged thigh.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his attention roaming to her legs. “Really... unusual in a good way.” It was clear he genuinely thought they would be naked and fucking soon.

She pulled in a deep breath; it was kind of fun to be flexing her feminine allure. “I was beginning to think on my one free afternoon here in London I’d come to an old folks’ pub.” She gave a conspirator smile then nodded at the gaggle of guys in the bay of the window. They were involved in a loud conversation, their deep voices speaking over each other.

“My meeting was just around the corner,” she said, “and when it finished, I headed into the first pub I found.”

“Perhaps I can liven it up for you.” He pulled up a barstool and sat, his knee brushing hers. “Your trip to London, that is.”

She smiled encouragingly. “You could start by telling me your name.”

“Name...” He raised his eyebrows. “Why don’t we omit names, and have one of those ships that pass in the night moments.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You’ve had a long boring week.” He paused, appeared to hold in a hiccup, then carried on. “And so have I. Maybe we could inject a little magic into it.”

“Magic. I like the sound of that.” She connected her gaze with his and rested her hand on his arm. Allowed her dress to slip a little higher, exposing even more stocking.

Get the shot, Luca.

“Ships that pass in the night,” she murmured, “magic. You’re sounding more mysterious by the minute, and I do love a man of mystery.”

“And I think I’d love everything about you,” he said, closing his eyes and breathing deep.

Serena twirled the necklace at her cleavage and kept her face lingering near to his, knowing the shots would look deeply suggestive and incriminating.

She pulled back, satisfaction rushing though her. David Watson, MP was such a soft touch, it was almost cruel... almost.

They talked for an hour; two more drinks were consumed at David’s expense. Serena touched him at every opportunity she got, kissed his cheek again and rubbed off the lipstick with a gentle caressing stroke. She made sure his attention, if it wasn’t on her face, lingered on her breasts or her sheer black stockings.

The guys by the window grew louder and ordered more brandy. The couple left.

Luca stayed in his wingback chair, a newspaper on his lap now and his phone rising at opportune moments. His face was cast in shadow but she knew his expression was dark. Luca wasn’t good at sharing, even if it was for a job.

And the job was done. Serena felt sure Luca would have enough evidence to make even the most trusting wife suspicious. And he certainly had shots the press would have a field day with.

She glanced at her watch. “I should get going?”

“Where to?” David was really slurring now and appeared unable to hide it.

“My hotel.”

He waggled his eyebrows, a terrible habit he had. Likely he thought it made him look suave. “No, don’t do that. Stay here.”

“Here?” she asked.

“Yes, they have rooms upstairs.” He placed his hand on her thigh, slid it upward, high, higher still, his fingertips dragging at the material and exposing the lace of her stocking top. “Come with me, to a room. We can make that magic happen.”

A room. Is this guy for real? How has he managed to get away with this behavior in the past?

“It’s not unusual,” David whispered, “for rooms at The Rook to be hired out by the hour.”

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