Rain

The sleazy, traitorous, arrogant little bastard wasn’t here.

I tried my best not to look angry, anxious, or out of place at Club 39. The truth was the basement bar on George Street wasn’t really my kind of hangout. It was too trendy and attracted too many yuppie types. Like my sister, Darcy’s, fuckwit of an ex-boyfriend.

I’d never understand what it was she saw in Angus York. She’d been dating him for a few weeks by the time I eventually met him, and I’d been ready to love him since Darcy was so smitten with him. The night we met he said, right in front of her, that I was—and I quote—“Absolutely stunning and incredibly fuckable.” And he did it in this leering, lascivious way that I thought would have prompted Darcy to slap him and tell him to get the hell out of her life. Instead she’d just nodded uncomfortably and changed the subject.

I’d disliked him ever since.

Now . . . now I hated him.

And I was going to find a way to destroy him.

Darcy had told me he loved this bar—he was there almost every weekend. But tonight there was no sign of him. Again.

I sighed, feeling impatient. I wanted to get the plan in motion so it could all be over with. Last night I’d felt like a complete idiot standing at the back of the bar on my own, watching the doorway for Angus. I needed to be more natural.

I needed a bloody drink.

I’d arrived earlier this evening so there wouldn’t be any chance of missing the disgusting ex if he did decide to show up. There were empty seats at the bar but I knew those would fill up soon. I slipped into one, catching the attention of a tall and exceptionally beautiful strawberry-blond bartender.

She smiled prettily at me. “What can I get you?”

“I’ve got this, Jo,” a deep, masculine voice said.

My gaze flickered down the bar and I tensed as I watched the bartender from last night stride toward us.

I’d noticed him watching me last night.

His interest was unsettling, and even more unsettling now that I was up close to him.

He was too good-looking.

Tall, very tall—and I liked my men tall since I wore heels that usually put me at five ten every day. He had thick dark brown hair that he wore in this unkempt, sexy, messy way that was real and not artfully made to look real with hair products. Warm blue-green eyes stared intently at me out of a ruggedly handsome face. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and it looked delicious on him.

The girl, Jo’s, quizzical gaze moved between us before she shrugged and moved out of her colleague’s way.

He took her place, his broad shoulders lengthening as he splayed his arms out, palms to the bar. It was as though he was trying to block out anything from distracting me from him.

My gaze ran up his long arms. They were muscled in a way that told me he visited the gym, and I had a sudden longing to see him without the black T-shirt he wore.

Heat flashed through me.

Bugger.

“You’re back,” he said, giving me a flirtatious smile.

So he wasn’t going to pretend he hadn’t been watching me like a hawk the night before. He was either really damn sure of himself or he was a bit of a creeper. I really hoped it was the former.

“I am,” I said, not flirtatiously. “And I’m thirsty this time around.”

His light eyes gleamed at me. “And what can I get you?”

There was no mistaking the deepening of his voice, or the innuendo in it.

I stubbornly ignored it. “Do you have Fuligni wine? A glass of Brunello di Montalcino if you have it.”

His mouth kicked up at the right corner. “Coming straight up, Ms. Bacall.”

I tried to hide my amusement as he alluded to my penchant for the forties era in my personal style. He turned away from me to pour a glass of wine and I drank in his broad back, feeling the lust stirring in my lower belly.

Bugger, bugger.

He turned back to me, his eyes glimmering with flirtation as he slid the drink slowly across the bar to me.

“How much do I owe you?”

“We’ll put it on a tab.” He leaned his elbows on the bar, bringing his gorgeous face closer to mine.

I found myself falling into the blue-green depths of his heated gaze.

Wine!

I snatched up the glass and took a rather unladylike gulp.

For some reason this made the bartender chuckle. He held out a hand to me as I lowered my glass back to the bar. “I’m Craig.”

Not really wanting to shake his hand, but not rude enough to ignore it, I slipped my hand into his and sucked in a breath when his grip tightened. He pulled me gently forward in the stool.

“I’m Rain.” I tugged on my hand and he released it, but only after brushing his thumb over my skin and making it tingle.

“Rain.” His lips twitched again.

What was it about me he found so vastly amusing?

“Rain Alexander.”

“Rain Alexander,” he repeated. “Stunning name for a stunning woman.”

I cocked my head to the side and studied him. Last night when he wasn’t watching me he was flirting with all of his female customers. Flirtiness just exuded from this man’s pores.

Unfortunately for Mr. Flirt, I didn’t know how to flirt back.

In this case that was fortunate for me because I didn’t want to flirt back!

“You should really stop flirting with me,” I said matter-of-factly.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I don’t know how to flirt back. I never learned the art of it.”

“I find it hard to believe that a woman as beautiful as you doesn’t know how to flirt.”

“That right there is why I never bothered to learn to flirt. It’s all bullshit.” I shrugged.

Craig laughed. “Okay. I’m listening.”

Glancing around the quiet bar I realized he really was settling in to listen because there were no other customers to distract him. I looked back at him, hoping what I had to say next would offend his sensibilities enough to get him to leave me to my “work.” “Last night I watched you flirt with every female customer. I bet my life on it that you call them all ‘gorgeous,’ ‘beautiful,’ ‘stunning,’ no matter if they’re any of those things or not. So . . . when you say those words to me, they mean absolutely nothing. The flutter I would get in my belly if another man said them to me, that flush of pleasure I’d feel along my skin, it doesn’t happen when a man like you says them to me . . . because the words have become so throwaway, so overused, they’ve lost their meaning entirely.”

I studied Craig as he processed my words, and he seemed genuinely perturbed by them. He leaned farther across the bar and I got a whiff of the delicious, spicy cologne he was wearing, and that flutter his compliments didn’t provoke suddenly awoke in my belly. I flushed and then thanked my mother’s Puerto Rican heritage for my tan skin that didn’t blush.

“See, that’s where you and I disagree,” he said softly, and the low timber of his voice, combined with the heat in his eyes, only wreaked more havoc on my body. “I believe that there is something beautiful about every woman, so when I say they’re gorgeous, or they’re beautiful, I do mean it.”

I liked that. But I wasn’t convinced it wasn’t a line. “You’re a connoisseur of women,” I guessed, curling my top lip at the thought. “You know just the right thing to say.”

His eyes were drawn to my mouth and I shivered at the naked thoughts in his gaze. “I just say what I feel in the moment.” His gaze flicked back up to my eyes. “Right now I’m thinking you have the most luscious fucking mouth I’ve ever seen in my life.”

A shiver rippled down my shoulders and around to my chest. My nipples tightened and their reaction caused that telltale tingling between my thighs.

Oh bugger, bugger, bugger.

I fought hard to mask my reaction and I think I succeeded because Craig narrowed his eyes in thought as he studied me.

I gave a huff of laughter. “What do you want me to say? I’ve already told you I can’t flirt back, and that with someone like you it doesn’t affect me. You don’t make me feel special when I’m just one in a million.”

“You’re very honest, aren’t you?” he murmured, not looking at all disinterested like I’d wanted him to.

“I say what I feel.”

“And I’m trying to tell you I do the same.” He grinned at me suddenly and its boyish charm practically melted my insides. “I’ve decided I’m not going to lose heart. I’ve got all night to convince you.”

I frowned at his tenacity. “You might not have all night. I’m probably going to leave after I finish my wine.”

“No, you’re not.” He leaned over the bar again. “Because you’re here for a reason. You’re up to something.” He trailed a finger along the inside of my wrist and I couldn’t mask my shiver this time. His eyes brightened knowingly and his grin turned smug, arrogant.

I narrowed my eyes and snatched my hand away from his reach. “I just happen to be sensitive there. Don’t get cocky.”

Craig pinched his lips together to stop himself from laughing, but the effort was railroaded by the laughter in his eyes.

I felt an answering tug of amusement at my own lips and I looked away, hoping the absence of his face would stifle it.

“So who are you looking for?”

My gaze snapped back to him at the question but thankfully I didn’t have to answer because a group of girls wandered into the club, laughing and making a lot of noise. They headed straight for the bar.

Craig winked at me and strode away to help Jo serve them.

Even knowing I shouldn’t, I watched him as he chatted and flirted with the girls. Part of me admired the fact that he didn’t suddenly stop flirting with them in order to make some headway with me, but another, much larger, part was disappointed.

The truth was I’d craved affection my whole life, and since much of my childhood was spent receiving so little, I’d become especially greedy in my adulthood. Since my first boyfriend when I was sixteen, I’d longed to be the only female (who wasn’t related to him) to matter to anyone I dated. I wanted to be a man’s whole world. Like . . . he’d die for me kind of love and vice versa.

When I was fourteen, lonely and starving for affection, I’d fallen in love with romance novels, and ever since then I’d hoped for an epic love story of my own.

I wanted to be the only woman he saw.

Unfortunately, that uncompromising need for full-on love had ruined my relationships. My boyfriends never seemed to live up to my expectations. They never bought me presents just because they saw something that reminded them of me. They looked lustfully at other women when they didn’t think I was looking. It didn’t bother them when another man flirted with me right in front of them.

And they should definitely not fuck other women when they were in a relationship with me. My second-to-last boyfriend, Gary, didn’t seem to understand that one at all!

Maybe what I wanted didn’t exist.

Maybe I was wrong to be so fixated on finding the perfect man for me.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But that didn’t mean I didn’t think it wasn’t reasonable to believe that a man who seemed overtly interested in me should refrain from flirting with other women while he was flirting with me!

I scowled at Craig as he said, “That’ll be ten eighty, gorgeous,” to the perky brunette eyeing him like he was bloody David Gandy.

I was right. He called every woman “gorgeous” and “beautiful.”

I’d lied to him before when I said I hadn’t felt anything when he called me beautiful. I had felt the heat of it. But that heat suddenly burnt out and turned to ash. I didn’t like the taste of it and I sipped at my wine and looked away, hating the disappointment I felt.

I stared at the door, willing Angus to appear. If he would just show up I could put my plan in action, ruin his life like he’d ruined Darcy’s, and forget all about the handsome bartender who I’d subconsciously let play me like he apparently played all women. I’d been hurt before by men, but since I’d never been in love, it was a hurt that had only lasted a little while. It wasn’t anywhere close to the hurt that Darcy was feeling. My sweet, beautiful, kind sister, who had already seen enough pain in this life. Angus had cut her open. I didn’t want to be cut open like that, which meant the next time I chose a man I’d pick one who treated me like I was the only woman in the room.

“You never answered my question. Who are you waiting for?”

My head jerked around at his question and my thoughts must have still been obvious in my eyes because Craig’s expression softened to concern. He reached for my hand and murmured, “Darlin’?”

I pulled my hand away before he could touch me and hid the sadness I’d allowed him to see. “I’m not waiting for anyone.”

“Liar.” He gave me a mock-disappointed look and heaved a weary sigh. “I guess I’ll just have to stand here and badger you all night, then.”

“Please don’t.”

As if he sensed the sincerity in my plea, he pulled back a little, giving me space, at least physically. However, he didn’t walk away. “Why are you here, Rain?” His question was serious, all flirtatiousness having ebbed away in reaction to my demeanor.

I smirked. “If that’s a philosophical question then I can honestly say I have no bloody clue why any of us are here. If it’s a literal one . . . I’d tell you to mind your own business.” I added a little smile to lessen the blow of my words.

He gave me a small smile back. “Then I’ll ask you an easier question. How old are you?”

I sighed, realizing he really wasn’t going anywhere. “I’m twenty-four. How old are you?”

“Twenty-five. Where were you born?”

I frowned at the quick-fire question. “Inverness. Where were you born?”

“Edinburgh born and raised. What do you do for a living?”

I cocked my head to the side and studied him. “Are you planning on writing my biography?”

He gave me this mysterious little smile but said nothing else.

“I was told not to talk to strangers.”

“But I’m not a stranger.” He leaned on the bar again, seeming unable to maintain a distance between us. “My name is Craig Lanaghan. I’m a full-time bartender and I hope to own my own bar one day. I have two sisters, Jeannie and Maggie. Jeannie is engaged, Maggie is at university, and with her nest empty my mum has decided to start Internet dating and I hate the very fucking idea of it. I’m a pretty laid-back guy, I like chilling with my friends on my down time, I like the color blue, I like crime novels and foreign martial arts flicks. I never say what I don’t mean, and I never let a woman think I’m offering her more than I am.”

There was a lot to like in all he’d said and I gave him a bemused smile. “I take it you expect me to return the gesture of info dumping.”

He grinned at me. “It would be nice.”

I felt that flutter in my belly again. “Stop flirting with me, Craig,” I repeated solemnly.

His grin changed to a coaxing smile. “Not possible, Rain.”

I sighed and glanced surreptitiously over my shoulder.

Still no Angus.

“You know if you tell me something I might stop pestering you completely,” he offered.

I tried to discern whether he meant it or not and decided I couldn’t tell. Hoping he was serious, I nodded. “My name is Rain Alexander. I own an online clothing boutique with my younger sister, Darcy. It’s called Darraign and we’re doing quite well with it. We design the clothes together and I handle the business side and manufacturing. Darcy is the dressmaker. Most of our stuff is manufactured but we sell limited-edition pieces that Darcy handcrafts. I’m extremely independent and always have been, I know what I want and what I don’t want and I have no room for compromise. I like the color red, I like romance novels and historical dramas. I always say what I mean and I never accept less than what I want from a man.”

Craig’s gaze grew heated at my final words. “In the bedroom or in life?”

My skin flushed at the thoughts I saw swirling in his gaze. “Both,” I whispered.

Our gazes locked and the heat between us intensified as the rest of the bar just melted away, darkness blurring my peripheral vision so all I could see was him. My eyes fell to his mouth and I wondered how he would kiss. Would his kisses be soft, coaxing . . . or would they be deep, drugging . . .

A loud cackle from a girl behind me snapped me out my reverie and I jerked back in my stool, breaking the moment between us.

Craig threw an irritated look over my shoulder before sighing. When he looked at me again, the heat in his eyes was no longer boiling, but simmering quietly. “You own your own company,” he said forcibly, his voice a little thick. He cleared his throat. “That’s impressive.”

I shrugged.

“Should we add modesty to the things I know about you?”

My shrug wasn’t out of modesty. I knew having my own successful company was an impressive feat and as nice as it was to hear, I didn’t need Craig’s opinion to know that. “I’m not particularly modest, no.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Not modest. Interesting. You said your company was called Darraign.” He gently grabbed my left wrist and turned my arm so that he could see the tattoo inscribed on the inside of my bicep. “You have your company name tattooed on you.” He frowned. “Darraign. As in Darcy and Raign?”

“My name is spelled like the weather, R-a-i-n. But yes, Darcy and Rain. Darraign.”

“Why the different spelling, then?” He rubbed his thumb over the inside of my wrist again and that small touch caused a lustful tightening in my breasts. I extricated my hand from him.

“Do you know what Darraign means?”

He grunted in amusement. “I didn’t even know it was a word.”

I nodded and looked down at my tattoo, drawing my red painted fingernails over the curled script that spelled out the word. “It means to vindicate. To justify or prove.”

When our eyes met again Craig’s were filled with something . . . something I couldn’t quite identify. “What?” I said softly.

“I think you just might be more than a little magnificent,” he said.

This compliment hit me square in the chest. It affected me in a way “beautiful” could never. “You don’t know me.”

“Then sit there and let me get to know you.”

Since I had no choice to sit there until Angus showed up, I ordered another wine and I nursed it for the next few hours as I waited.

During my wait Craig was never far from me. We were interrupted when more customers came in and the bar grew busier and noisier, but whenever he could get away he came back to chat to me. This time our chatter was more lighthearted as we discussed the people around us and he tried his best to make me laugh.

As three a.m. drew nearer and the club began to empty, I paid my tab and slid off my stool.

Craig’s arm shot across the bar and his large hand wrapped around mine to stop me. Desire blazed in his eyes. “Let me walk you home, Rain.”

Knowing exactly what he was asking, I shook my head sadly, wishing he were a different kind of man. “I don’t do one-night stands, Craig. I’m not that girl.”

I tugged my hand out of his grasp and walked out of the bar.

As I jumped in a taxi outside, I wrapped my arms around myself and willed away the disappointment I felt.

I was gutted.

It wasn’t every day you met someone who made your skin heat and your body spark, who made you laugh and took you at face value. Craig really seemed to like me despite my inability to flirt with him and my inability to be coy. I was forthright, and many men found that off-putting. Not Craig though.

And still it wasn’t enough.

I was still just another body he wanted to fuck.

I decided I disliked him a little for that.

Or maybe it was my dislike of Angus transferring to Craig.

Angus.

I squeezed my eyes closed, groaning. He didn’t turn up and if he had I’d probably have been too distracted to notice.

Oh, this would never do.

I had to force Craig from my mind, and I needed to start getting serious about revenge.