Mister Romance (Masters of Love #1)

“I’m sorry I missed that.”


“You should be. If you’d captured it on camera, you could have made me an internet sensation. How dare you deprive me my fifteen minutes of public humiliation?” Every time he says ‘you’ it sounds like ‘yeh’, and all of his ‘r’s have a slight roll to them, which is sexy as hell. To make matters worse, when he hands my phone back, I get a jolt when my fingers brush his.

Oh, God, no. Being attracted to a guy like him isn’t a good idea. My instincts are telling me to withdraw and retreat, but my eyeballs overrule them, so I stay where I am and smile instead. “Well, now I’m really sorry.”

He gives me a satisfied nod. “You’re forgiven. On the upside, I get to make a first impression that’s not based on you laughing your ass off, so there’s that.”

I push at the thick clumps of hair that have escaped my pony tail and are now clinging to my cheeks like seaweed. “Well, yeah. There’s nothing worse than embarrassing yourself in front of total strangers, right? That’s the worst.”

He lets out a low chuckle, and man, if I thought he was sexy when he was running with floppy hair, then the lopsided, appraising grin he’s now giving me is off the charts.

“Actually, I found you falling at my feet quite charming. You didn’t need to go to so much trouble to get my attention, I assure you, but I’m not complaining.”

Jesus, his accent is killing me. Not to mention those sparkling green eyes. The high cheekbones. Those luscious, curvy lips.

I need to get out of here. And yet, I continue to babble. “What can I say? Some girls like to attract men with good looks and a great personality. I prefer to showcase my extreme clumsiness. I think it’s an underrated way of appealing to the opposite sex.”

He nods, and I don’t miss the way he gives my face and body a quick but thorough assessment. “You might be onto something there. I do find you incredibly appealing right now. So, does this tactic work for guys, too? I mean, if I took a tumble down the stairs, would it convince you to let me take you out for a drink later tonight?”

I wince. “Oh, no. You can’t go straight to the stair falling. That’s a rookie mistake. You’ll kill yourself. Start with something small, like tripping over your own feet. Or running into a pole. I might make it look easy, but there’s a big difference between being adorably clumsy and unattractively unconscious. You have to know your limits.”

He nods seriously. “Ah, I see. This is the exactly type of wisdom I need. Not only are you saving me from humiliating self-harm, you also managed to ignore my request for a drink without making me feel like a total loser, which is impressive.”

I grab my towel off the treadmill and pat my face. I didn’t mean to ignore his request. It just took me by surprise. Usually when men approach me, it’s in a bar after they’ve had a few. Or, if I’ve had a few, I’ll let them know I’m interested by inserting my tongue into their mouth.

Men who look like this fine Irish specimen don’t usually notice me, especially at this gym. In my experience, the super-hot guys don’t go for the Plain Janes with angular frames and modest B-cups who work out in baggy T-shirts and non-designer leggings. They prefer the silicon-enhanced Playboy Bunnies who somehow exit the spin classes with perfect hair and makeup intact.

It’s not that I think I’m unattractive; I know I can make myself look good. But considering my face currently resembles a particularly angry hemorrhoid, I doubt my post-workout appearance is showing me in my best light.

“Thanks,” I say, “But I try not to go out with men who’ve been entranced by my clumsiness. It’s not fair to them. I mean, the moment I put on heels and try to walk across the room, you’ll be ruined for all other women forever. You’re young. You have your whole romantic life ahead of you. I’m turning you down because I care.” And because it’s weird being asked out by someone as beautiful as you.

He drops his head. “Wow, clumsy and selfless? You’ve already ruined me.”

Then he hits me with those dazzling green eyes, and without meaning to, I find myself staring back.

“I’m Kieran, by the way. And you are?”

Without thinking about it, I take his hand. It’s warm and rough, and completely envelops mine. “Eden. Tate.”

“Nice to meet you, Eden.”

“Likewise, Kieran.” He steps a little closer as he squeezes my hand gently. The result is that my whole body floods with vicious tingles.

The reaction is so strong and unexpected, I have to step back and take a breath.

Good God, what is it with this man? I haven’t been this attracted to anyone since ... actually, I can’t remember having this kind of reaction before. I usually go for guys who are good-looking but not extraordinary. This guy is definitely extraordinary. Attractive in ways I’ve never really thought about. This is exactly the kind of connection I try to avoid.

Feeling flustered and more than a little out of my depth, I turn back to the treadmill and grab my water bottle out of the holder.

“Well, nice to meet you, Kieran. And thanks for saving me from a broken nose.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah. Gotta work to pay the bills.”

“Well, maybe I’ll see you around? I’m here most days.” He seems so hopeful, I have a pang of regret.

“Yeah, maybe. Bye.”

He smiles as I pass, and again I get a flutter in my stomach that puts me on guard. I’m used to feeling vaguely attracted to men, not whatever the hell he’s making me feel. It’s unexpected and disturbing, and I try to shake it off as I head into the shower.

I’m not someone who experiences these meet-cute situations. They’re for leading-lady types, and that’s not me. If I were in a movie, someone like my sister would be the romantic lead, while I’d end up playing the smart-ass friend who has no trouble getting laid, but is more interested in men as an extreme sport than life partner.

As I finish showering and get dressed, I try to put Kieran out of my mind.

The brutal truth is, it doesn’t matter how hot and sexy he is, if he’s taking an interest in me, then it’s a safe bet he’s some version of asshole-in-disguise. And as much as I don’t mind sleeping with assholes, going on dates with them isn’t my idea of a good time.

Assholes make you feel things then disappear. They make you think you’re the center of their world and one day decide you’re not. Right now, I should be focused on getting my career out of the toilet, not investing in probable heartbreak.

I grab my gear and head to the door, and even when I see Kieran in my peripheral vision and feel his eyes on me, I don’t look at him.

Time to go to work.

*

I look up at the giant, filthy building in front of me and dial Toby’s number.

“‘Sup?”

“You sure that address you sent me is right?”