Keely sat at the bar inside of The Landmark London hotel positioning herself so she had clear view across the lobby to the entrance. She took a deep steadying breath and tried to ready herself to meet the blind date her mother had set up. This one was the son of one of her friends that she had attended college with. She had barely been in the new city a few weeks and her mother was already busy matchmaking.

Couldn’t her mother give it a rest? She still had plenty of time to marry and have children. Good grief, she didn’t even have a solidified place to stay yet, hence her room upstairs. A new job opportunity with her company had become available in London, one she couldn’t pass up, so she jumped at the chance. In part, this was a rush move to get from under her mother’s thumb, but so far the plan was going astray. This date was clear proof of that. At least this guy wasn’t a mortician.

What was wrong with her that she couldn’t find a decent guy? Was it her personality—her looks?  She looked at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. The woman staring back at her had delicate feminine features. She had inherited her flawless umber-brown skin, slender face and high cheekbones from her mother. Her slanting eyes, a light with flecks of amber-gold afforded her an exotic appearance. Her nose was short, the bridge straight, the nostrils flaring slightly as she pressed her full, generously curved lips together. This is ridiculous.

There was nothing wrong with her. She had no reason to sit at the bar and doubt herself. Her date, on the other hand was a different story. Technically she was supposed to be across the street at the coffee bar. But she still had time before she was supposed to be there.

Keely ordered a glass of pomegranate martini and took a sip. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but had a feeling she might need it. If Rupert Jefferson Bagley was as snobbish and stuffy as his name, she needed all the help she could get.

The sip turned into a guzzle when a man looking to be a little over the age of thirty and forty pounds overweight, dressed in dark conservative pants and a knit polo shirt that did nothing to hide his paunch, walked through the entrance, cast a quick look around the lobby and bustled inside, making his way toward the bar. Keely gulped the rest of the martini and stood up.

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

She turned to see who’d spoken and her heart did a triple somersault. Beside her sat a vision of masculine perfection. Wind blown brown hair, clear grey eyes and a sinfully luscious mouth. His sweater draped over a muscled chest. Khaki pants covered lean, powerful legs, his booted feet hooked over the rungs of the barstool. Her mother would detest him.

Keely sat back down. Just what she needed.

He shifted his stool closer to hers. “Can I buy you another drink?”

She nodded and her head swam a little. When the martini arrived, she sipped slowly.

“Are you staying at the hotel?” The smooth sensuality of his voice, the lilt of his accent made Keely’s toes curl.

She stared up at him her mouth going dry. A croak escaped when she tried to speak. Mortification threatened to swamp her but she tapered it down. She would not embarrass herself in front of this gorgeous specimen of a man. “Yes, but I just came downstairs to meet someone.”

His lips curled into a delicious smile. “I’m someone.”

Heat burned through Keely’s body. This man made her want to rebel, to do something wicked wild and, to show her family she was more than a pawn to be moved into the proper school, the proper college, the proper job and worst of all the proper relationship.

She got to her feet, swayed a little then stood firm. “Let’s go to my room?”

He straightened, a dark brow arching in her direction. “Are you sure?” He cast a glance at the half empty glass in front of her. “Maybe it’s the alcohol talking.”

She grabbed his hand, trying to urge him upward. “I know what I’m doing. I want you. Now.”

He got to his feet, towering at least six inches maybe more above her own five foot eight. Could this moment get any better? She had finally found a man that met her height requirement.

He put his hand on her shoulders and leaned in close. “If you’re certain this is what you want, I’d love to.”

He pulled her close and the rigid outline of his erection pushed against her hip. She clenched her hands to keep from grabbing it right there in the bar, and gasped out through her tight throat. “I have never been more certain of anything in my life.”

One corner of his mouth tilted upward. “Then who am I to argue?”

She uttered a small sigh of relief. “Come on then.”

They shared the elevator with other people, but when they reached her room, she fumbled to open the door, until he took the key from her unsteady hand. When the door was finally open, he pushed her inside, spun her around and body slammed her up against it. He bent his head and covered her lips with his mouth.

His tongue thrust in and out and hips ground against hers. Moisture flooded her, hot and ready. She reached out and undid the snap of his jeans. The harsh rush of air in and out of fevered lungs drowned out rasp of the zip. She shoved her hands inside and whimpered in delight. He wore no underwear.

Her hands closed around his hot, smooth cock.

He shoved his pants down to his ankles, pausing only to extract a foil packet from the front pocket, then he hiked her dress up to her waist, ripped her thong panties away, covered himself and thrust inside. She opened her legs wide hot, wet and aching to take him.

He angled his body and lifted so she sank down on his shaft, every thrust and withdrawal pressing her against its base. She writhed and twisted, needing the unbearable tension to break and push her over the edge and at the same time wanting more.

Her legs collapsed, but he held her upright, her back pressed against the wall—her hips bounced against it with each pounding thrust.

He groaned and her muscles tensed. The tension coiled higher and higher then snapped. She screamed and her body dissolved into pulsing waves of orgasm. Through the roaring of blood in her ears she heard him groan, felt his cock pumping as he came.

After a moment he straightened and gently withdrew. Keely started to sink towards the floor. He caught her in his arms, carried her to the bed, settled her on top of the covers and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” He walked into the bathroom.

The ridiculous statement made her smile. It was her room. Where did he think she was going to go? Keely lay there, too exhausted and far too satisfied to move.

When he returned, she was surprised. He’d removed the condom and his clothes. Keely couldn’t stop her appreciative grin. He looked just as good without clothes as he did with them. Better. His firm skin stretched across a taut body. She gasped. On his hip, low and to the center, he had a small tattoo. Her tongue sneaked out to moisten her lips. She wanted to take a long, loving bite of that.

He sat on the side of the bed. “Do you want me to go?”

She lifted her head lifted her head when she felt a cool breeze. Looking downward, she realized the black material still bunched around her waist but made no move to cover herself. If she had her way, he would see a lot more before the night was over. “What do you want to do?”

His eyes grew heavy. “I want to stay.”

She pulled the dress over her head and flung it aside. “I want that too.”

He lay down beside her. She ran her hands idly over his stomach. He grinned. “I’m glad I decided to go into the bar rather than doing what my mother wanted.”

Keely swallowed. “What your mother wanted?”

He shrugged. “She set me up with a blind date with the daughter of some friend of hers. I was supposed to be across the street at the coffee bar but I decided not to go through with it so I went to the bar instead.”

Keely grabbed his hand and held it tight. Her heart rate increased tattooing a rapid pattern against her rib cage. “What’s your name?”

“Call me Jeff.” He looked sheepish. “Who’d want to answer to a name like Rupert Jefferson Bagley?”