One Night in Her Arms Read online

  One Night in Her Arms

  Sofia Grey

  This book is a work of fiction.

  While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 by Sofia Grey

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Acelette Press

  Second Edition issued 2018

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  One Night in Her Arms

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter six

  Chapter seven

  Chapter eight

  Chapter nine

  Chapter ten

  About Sofia Grey

  More by Sofia Grey

  One Night in Her Arms

  A sexy short story

  When Hannah meets Daniel, the angel investor saving her business, she can’t stop thinking about him. It’s not just because he’s gorgeous, she swears they’ve met before, but she can’t remember where.

  When he invites her to his cottage to finish up some business, she hopes the trip will jog her memories. She also hopes it will lead to something that involves fewer clothes and more hands-on work.

  WARNING: THIS SHORT story contains more than a hint of the paranormal...

  ~ Previously published as part of Sexy To Go anthology volume 9 ~

  Prologue

  Rain drummed on the roof, loud enough to wake the dead, but I wasn’t asleep anyway. Daniel’s arm looped around my waist, his hand resting over my naked breast, thumb idly caressing the soft skin. I’d never felt so safe, so wanted, so utterly content in all my life.

  No matter what our agreement said, I knew with a bone deep certainty: one night wasn’t enough.

  Chapter One

  Two days earlier

  When I first heard about Angel Investors I was sceptical. Now, when all other avenues had been exhausted, and they were my last option, I was too stressed to care about the quirky name.

  I stared at the website again. The sedate header was entirely at odds with the organisation’s name: Angels ‘r’ Us. Their description sounded more business-like.

  We are a group of affluent individuals—Angel Investors—who provide capital for business start-ups, usually in exchange for convertible debt or ownership equity. At Angels ‘r’ Us we specialise in the smaller businesses, those who might struggle elsewhere.

  I’d struggled all right. Opening my own café had taken every cent of my savings, along with the maximum amount the bank would loan me, but business was going well recently. This part of Wellington was a booming area, attracting scores of office workers, and more than a few students from the local university. I’d finally started to relax, and think about taking on a full-time assistant, as well as my part-timers.

  The space I rented was in one of the city’s older buildings, with huge windows, and mosaic tiles on the floor. It had character, and I loved it. When the landlord announced a month ago that the entire block was being demolished, I felt as though someone from my family had died.

  “It’s the cost of bringing it up to code for the new earthquake regulations,” he said. “I can’t afford the work and even if I could, I’d have to pass the expense on to all my tenants. You’re best to move out now, and find another location.”

  “Move where?” I tightened my hands around the edges of my Gaggia espresso machine. Even second-hand it had cost me a fortune, but it made the most amazing coffee.

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. “This isn’t fun for me either, Hannah. This building is my livelihood too.”

  And now, I was running out of time. The only comparable site to relocate to needed work. I had to raise a down payment, the equivalent of three months rent, and I had to cover all the costs of the move, as well as advertising to announce my new location. The amount of money I needed made me want to weep.

  All my assets were tied up in the café equipment. I couldn’t afford a loan on top of everything else, and so private investment was the only option left.

  The application for Angels ‘r’ Us had to be completed online, but they guaranteed an initial response within twenty-four hours. I checked all the details one more time, contemplated how I felt about signing away part of the café’s equity and then acknowledged that without this last chance, there would be no café at all.

  Pressing APPLY, I watched the little icon on the screen as it spun into an egg-timer, and then after a pause, flashed up with DELIVERED. There was nothing more for me to do, apart from carrying on with the business at hand. I glanced at my watch. Almost six-thirty in the morning. Time to open.

  When my phone trilled its default ringtone a couple of hours later, I grabbed it, fully expecting it to be a customer pre-ordering a tray of drinks. It couldn’t be the Angel people yet. They’d barely had time to start work, let alone review my application. All the same, when an unfamiliar female voice asked for Ms. Hannah Steele, my heart thudded against my ribs.

  “This is Hannah.”

  “Good morning. I’m Shania from Angels ‘r’ Us. Is this a convenient time?”

  “Yes,” I squeaked, then pulled myself together. “Just one moment.” I covered the mouthpiece with my hand, and spoke to my part-timer, Lewis. “I have to take this call. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  It was noisy behind the Gaggia and so I stepped into the yard at the back. The morning sun hadn’t made it over the high walls yet, and I shivered. Taking a deep breath, I tried to sound confident. “Okay. I can talk now.”

  “We’ve reviewed your application, and one of our private investors, Mr. Gates, would like to speak to you. Please hold.”

  Oh my God. Oh my God. This couldn’t be a straight rejection. Could it? The pulse hammered in my ears so loud I was surprised Shania couldn’t hear it. Calm down, I told myself. It’s most probably some question you didn’t answer fully. Although, I’d spent so long completing the application that I knew I’d not messed it up.

  “Ms. Steele?” A deep male voice sounded in my ear. “This is Daniel Gates. How are you today?”

  I’d never met anyone by that name, and I sure as hell didn’t know any wealthy private investors, but I’d swear I knew his voice. I swallowed, my throat unaccountably dry, and forced a polite reply. “Yes, this is Hannah Steele.” We exchanged pleasantries while I composed myself.

  “I’d like to meet with you to discuss your application further. I’m in Wellington tomorrow. Would a lunchtime appointment be possible?”

  What? They weren’t turning me down? They wanted to talk more? “Yes,” I blurted, before remembering that might be difficult. “Could it be a late lunch, it’s just that I’m really busy in the early part of the lunch break.” I was babbling. I clamped my mouth shut and waited.

  A lazy chuckle drifted down the line, and my pulse thrummed with awareness. I knew his voice. We’d definitely spoken before. But where?

  “That should be fine. Two-thirty? I’ll make a reservation and text you the details.”

  He paused, and I dragged my focus back. Behaving like an idiot was no way to get the funding I needed. “Yes, thank you,
that would be amazing.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ms. Steele.”

  Chapter Two

  I dressed with extra care the next day. There had to be a balance, somewhere between confident businesswoman, and practical café owner. My hair refused to be tamed with the straighteners, and after battling for ten minutes I gave up, and pulled it back into a neat-ish braid instead. With only a few rebellious ginger strands falling onto my face, I looked even more pale. My milk-white complexion showed every freckle, and I blushed at the drop of a hat. Every single emotion would be on clear display.

  While I usually wore slacks for work, I wanted to make an impression today, and so I wore a smart-looking black wrap dress that I’d picked up on sale. It accentuated my non-existent breasts and gave the illusion of a gentle cleavage. For that alone, I loved it. The way it narrowed my waist was a bonus. Paired with nylons and knee-high boots, I looked almost sophisticated.

  Inside, I was a seething mass of nerves. There’s no way I’d be able to actually eat any lunch when we met. I took the time to prepare a printed copy of all the additional information I’d submitted with my application: the results of a customer survey, feedback from suppliers, a reference from my landlord, analysis of the market and the tiny share I claimed, and a detailed breakdown of my business plans for the next three years. It had to be enough. If it wasn’t, there was nothing else to try.

  Lewis gazed open-mouthed when I arrived at work. He was only nineteen, a mere puppy to my twenty-six, but his reaction warmed me. “Wow,” he said, his eyes wide and admiring. “You’ll have to meet with the bankers more often. You look hot like that, Hannah.”

  “I scrub up well,” I quipped, and turned my attention to the milk supplies. Having everything ready at our fingertips was the best way to get through the morning rush with no panics.

  My lunch appointment was at the Chameleon Restaurant, inside one of Wellington’s top hotels. I’d never had occasion to go there before. It was a shame I’d be too amped up to enjoy it.

  Lunch period saw the usual flurry of customers. I had that weird prickly feeling as though I was being watched and I looked up from the Gaggia, and scanned the people waiting for their drinks. A little knot of businessmen hung at the back of the queue. None of them were regulars, but as my gaze drifted I paused and looked at them properly. One had his side to me, but I knew he’d been watching me. Short, dark hair, blue-black in a ray of sunlight, with the same glossy sheen as a crow’s wing, he looked achingly familiar. I stared at his profile and a moment later, he glanced at me.

  From his immaculate charcoal suit, to the polished leather shoes, he screamed expensive elegance. His lips quirked into a half smile but then he turned back to his companions. I’d caught the barest glimpse of his eyes, a pale and unearthly silver, but it reinforced the idea that I knew him.

  A regular customer? No. Wherever I knew him from, it wasn’t here. Perhaps I’d seen him on TV or in a movie? Wellington was famous for its film industry after all.

  He didn’t come any closer. One of his group ordered and collected their drinks, and the next time I looked up, he’d gone.

  Lunch rush was busier than I expected, and there was no time to freshen up before my lunch meeting, apart from a slick of lip gloss and a mint to freshen my breath. The restaurant was only a five-minute walk through the busy streets, but I left in plenty of time, and arrived early.

  I approached the maître d’ at his desk and lurked while he spoke to a couple of people, then stepped forward at the same time as a man who walked up from the bar area. I recognised the dark hair and smart suit immediately. The guy from the cafe. Wellington was a small city, but even so it was a coincidence to see him here. Surely he wasn’t...

  His polite smile was for me alone. “Ms. Steele?”

  “Mr. Gates?” I was proud that I kept my cool and didn’t show how flustered I was. He’d been checking out my business earlier. He must be interested in investing. Excitement bubbled inside my chest, along with the memory of seeing this man before. More than that, we’d spoken, and not just on the phone. The timbre of his voice sent a delicious shiver down my spine, and that was just from saying my name.

  “Please. Call me Daniel.” He held out a hand, and dreamlike, I shook it. He held me just a fraction too long, but at the same time, not long enough. We’d done this before, too. How could I have forgotten him? He was so polished, so utterly confident, he’d stand out in any crowd. His eyes were shrewd as they assessed me. He was a predator, hawk-like in his focus, and I felt like a fluffy, helpless bunny in his path.

  When his lips twitched into a smile, I realised I’d not replied. “You must call me Hannah.”

  “It’s good to see you, Hannah.” My name was a caress on his lips and I found myself staring at him, eating up the details. High, sharp cheekbones, almost Slavic. The unusual liquid Mercury eyes, eyebrows dark slashes on his golden face. On another man they’d look foreboding, but the tilt of his lips threatened to break into a smile, and I knew it would light up his entire face. How did I know that?

  “Have we met before?” I watched him closely, the memory still hovering on the edges of my brain.

  He tilted his head slightly, one brow rising. “I’m sure I couldn’t forget you, Hannah.”

  That wasn’t a denial. I was about to say something when the maître d’ cleared his throat. “Your table is ready, Mr. Gates.”

  Chapter Three

  Mr. Gates—Daniel—placed his hand in the centre of my back and guided me into the dining area. It was the lightest touch, but I felt it down to my toes. Our table was in the far corner and overlooked the street below, with a gorgeous view of the harbour. The sea shimmered in the distance, azure blue in the sunlight, and made the perfect backdrop. Daniel pulled out a seat for me and waited until I sat before he claimed his own.

  Even with such a spectacular view before me, my eyes were drawn to the man sitting opposite. His gaze searched my face, and then he sat back, the rigid set of his shoulders relaxing.

  The waiter fussed around, pouring iced water, inviting us to look at the menu and pointing out the daily specials. Apart from a handful of other diners on the other side of the room, we had the restaurant to ourselves. I knew I couldn’t eat a thing, but I pretended to examine the options. My stomach was busy tying itself in knots and my palms were damp. I forced myself to breathe, to not show how nervous I was.

  “Are you ready to order?” Daniel put down his menu and steepled his fingers, wrists resting on the table. Stones the same colour as the harbour outside adorned snowy white cuffs, and they jogged another memory. I frowned as I tried to untangle it.

  Daniel noticed. “There’s no rush. I don’t have any other appointments this afternoon.”

  I pasted on a polite smile. “Sorry, I was distracted by your cuff links. I love the colour. It’s the same shade as the mosaic tiles on my café floor.”

  “Is it?” His gaze didn’t waver from me.

  I was an assertive businesswoman, not a simpering girl, and this was the perfect opening for me. “I saw you in my café earlier. What did you think of it?”

  “I like it.”

  I couldn’t hold back my delight. “That was a typical lunchtime rush for us. We’re doing good business.”

  There was a hint of an answering smile, but then he tapped the menu card. “Let’s order. I believe the salmon is good here.”

  I adored salmon. I glanced at the printed card, and then up at the waiter, who hovered with a pen and pad in hand. “Green salad please.” I handed back the menu, and then looked at Daniel.

  “The Asian-style salmon please. A large portion, and sides too. Shoestring fries and garlic mushrooms.

  My mouth watered at the feast he ordered. My plain salad would be the height of blandness in comparison.

  He hadn’t finished though. “We’ll have a platter of the mixed dumplings to share first. Fried.”

  I gave a self-conscious little laugh. “You’ve ordered all my favourite thi
ngs.”

  “Really?” He sat back, the image of a relaxed man. “We have several things in common.”

  It was absurd to think I could have anything in common with this guy, but I played along. “Salmon and garlic mushrooms. And fried dumplings.”

  “And good coffee.”

  “Definitely.” I wanted to ask if he’d enjoyed the coffee I’d brewed, but that felt like digging for compliments. It was time to get the meeting back on track. I picked up the hefty folder with all my additional paperwork, and opened it. “We have a few minutes before the food arrives. Would you like another look at the marketing campaign I’ve planned? Or my mock-ups of how the new premises would look?”

  His eyes twinkled with something. Amusement perhaps? “I’d love to, but let’s save the business stuff until we’ve eaten. There are much better conversations to have over good food, don’t you agree?”

  I didn’t want to make small talk. I wanted to wow him with my business acumen, and to make him fall in love with my little corner of Wellington, but he called the shots here. Taking a calming breath, I pushed the folder away with my fingertips and then fixed my gaze on his face. His smile was one of approval.

  When faced with a sexy man, casual chat was not my strength. I paused, my mind filled with half-forgotten memories and jumbled thoughts, and groped for something interesting to say.

  Daniel stepped in and filled the silence with an ease that made me envious. “Wellington is such an interesting city, don’t you think? Old and new jostling side by side. So many contrasts.”

  “Yes.” I took a sip of water, and tried to relax. “Do you live in Auckland? You’re just here on business?”

  “I move around a lot. I have a little place up in Peka Peka, but I haven’t been there in a while.” I knew the hamlet he mentioned, an hour’s drive north of the city. No more than a handful of cottages that hugged the coast, it wasn’t even big enough to be called a village.