Lose Your Shirt (The Londonaire Brother Series Book 2) Read online

  LOSE YOUR SHIRT

  AMANDA AKSEL

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  Also by Amanda Aksel

  The Marin Test Series

  The Man Test

  The Commitment Test

  The Pregnancy Test

  The Londonaire Brothers Series

  Lingerie on the Floor

  Lose Your Shirt

  Bedside Manor- Coming Fall 2017

  About Lose Your Shirt

  I’m a money guy. I have plenty of it and I’m always making more. So when my ex-lover-slash-ex-client sues my father’s company out of spite, Dad threatens to take my job and my future position as CEO of Bonnaire Enterprises. All I have to do is keep a low-profile and pretend to be engaged to my best friend until the lawsuit is settled. And one more thing—I’m not allowed to even think about touching another client.

  Keeping my hands tied wasn't going to be easy but it was doable, until her . . .

  I have a weakness for gorgeous redheads and American women. Liz McKenna is both and she’s just become my latest client. The woman drives me crazy in good ways and bad. And she knows it. Every second with her is a struggle to keep my hands to myself. With the way things are going . . . I could end up losing my shirt over this woman.

  *This is Book Two in The Londonaire Brothers Series, featuring middle billionaire brother Kent. Lose Your Shirt can be read as a stand-alone novel.

  Copyright© 2017 Amanda Aksel

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication maybe reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing by the author or publisher (except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages and/or show brief video clips in a review)

  Lose Your Shirt is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, businesses, establishments, or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Edited by Ursula @ Owl Pro Editing

  Cover Art by Mayhem Cover Creations

  CONTENTS

  ONE- Liz

  TWO- Kent

  THREE- Liz

  FOUR- Kent

  FIVE- Liz

  SIX- Kent

  SEVEN- Liz

  EIGHT- Kent

  NINE- Liz

  TEN- Kent

  ELEVEN- Liz

  TWELVE- Kent

  THIRTEEN- Liz

  FOURTEEN- Kent

  FIFTEEN- Liz

  SIXTEEN- Kent

  SEVENTEEN- Liz

  EIGHTEEN- Kent

  NINETEEN- Liz

  TWENTY- Kent

  TWENTY-ONE- Liz

  TWENTY-TWO- Kent

  TWENTY-THREE- Liz

  TWENTY-FOUR- Kent

  TWENTY-FIVE- Liz

  TWENTY-SIX- Kent

  EPILOGUE- Liz

  ONE

  Liz

  Someone once told me that it’s lonely at the top. That someone was a very successful businesswoman I admired. Her words didn’t faze me since my only priority was getting to the next level. But she was right. The more I level up, the fewer friends I have. I always tell myself that it comes with the territory, then move on. But for some reason, right now, standing in a banquet room among other business professionals and being five thousand miles away from home the week before Christmas, I’ve never felt lonelier.

  I stand at the edge of the room, peering over the crowd as they sip cocktails and pass business cards back and forth. There isn’t a single familiar face in this entire five-star hotel in London. Jacqueline, the venture capital associate I’ll be working with over the next week, was supposed to meet me in the lobby twenty minutes ago. I’ve just signed a ten-million-dollar deal with Bonnaire Capital. They’re going to help me take my business, Solids, to the next level. Or they will as soon as I find Jacqueline.

  I have had several videoconferences with Jacqueline from the comfort of my San Francisco office, so I’m positive I can pick her out of a crowd. Glancing around the room one more time, there’s no sight of her tight bun and no sound of her vivid laugh. She still hasn’t responded to my texts or phone calls, and that’s not at all like her. In fact, up until last Thursday, we had been emailing back and forth in the middle of the night, or at least the middle of the night for her. I’ll give it another twenty minutes, then I’m going back to my hotel.

  For now, I might as well use my drink tickets. Maybe walking around with a glass of wine will make me feel less alone. It works at home. Just me and a bottle of delicious pinot noir. I approach the bar at the back of the room, folding my arms in and rubbing my shoulders. I may have grown up in a chilly climate like this, but after ten years of moderate weather in California, I can’t stand the cold.

  “What can I get you?” the shaggy-haired, blond bartender asks in his British accent.

  I rub my cold hands together, still feeling a little chilly from the cold December air. “Nothing with ice. Can you make me a hot toddy?”

  “Sorry, no tea. Can I interest you in a glass of red wine?” That’s what I hate about these things. The drink selection is slim with nothing but house wines.

  “Pinot noir?” I ask.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He nods. I hate when people call me ma’am. I’m not old enough to be a ma’am. Miss is better. Madam could work. The bartender hands me a wine glass too full to swirl. I immediately inhale the robust grape scent, then take a sip. Not bad for a corporate event.

  I make my way over to one of the only empty high-top tables, set my glass down, and pull out my phone. Still nothing from Jacqueline. Where is she? I peer around the room again and a man appears to my right, startling me with his Einstein-like white hair. The man smiles, his teeth coated in smoker yellow.

  “Well, hello.” He inches closer. Too close.

  I shoot him a strange look. “Hello.” The words sound more like a question.

  “Is that an American accent I hear?” The man leans his ear near my mouth.

  “It is.” I veer away. Why do some people think it’s okay to encroach on someone’s personal space? Especially strangers.

  “I saw you from across the room, and I just had to come over and tell you that you are stunning. You look like a young Rita Hayworth.” The man’s gaze moves down my body as if handing out a nice compliment gives him carte blanche to ogle my ass.

  “Thanks.” If this is how my night’s going to be, I’d better drink up.

  With a curious look, he moves closer, filling the space between us. “So, what brings you to London?”

  I inch back, not that it will do any good. “Meeting with my venture capitalist.” I honestly wouldn’t mind talking with this man if he had any sense of boundaries. How do I get out of this? Take a fake call?

  He squishes his furry gray brows together. “You mean you run a business?”

  “Yes,” I say, standing tall with a proud smile. “I own it too.”

  The man tilts his head, but before he can ask his follow-up question, another man approaches and puts his hand on my arm as if he were my long-lost friend. “There you are, darling!”

  Darling? I look up at the second no-sense-of-boundaries stranger who clearly has me mixed up with someone else. The dark-haired man flashes a gorgeous smile that practically sparkles, and two adorable dimples appear. His hazel eyes li
ght up beneath his thick lashes. Hello, Mr. Hottie! I take back what I said. He’s the kind of guy I want all up in my personal space.

  Our eyes meet and hold. The moment for recognition passes but he still hasn’t realized his mistake. Instead, he holds my gaze with a certainty that leaves my heart fluttering. “Come with me, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Mr. Hottie’s brow moves slightly as if to tell me to play along.

  Relieved, I beam back at him. “Great! Let’s go.”

  He gestures ahead and I begin to walk away, shooting the old guy at the table a quick too-da-loo wave. When we’re out of earshot, I lean in, inhaling the delicious scent of expensive cologne. “Thanks for getting me out of there.”

  “That man’s been chatting up women all evening.” We keep moving as he leads me to safety, gently resting his hand on the small of my back.

  “And have you been rescuing all of them?”

  “No. Just you.” He lets out a charming chuckle as we come to a clearing, and I finally get a good look at the guy dressed in a black suit with a white, open-collared shirt. “You were the only one he got that close to. Not that I can blame him.”

  Usually with men, I keep my defenses high and I never fall for one-liners. But this guy seems to be knocking down my walls with every striking smile. I purse my mouth with a hint of a smirk. “I’m a big girl, you know? I can take care of myself.”

  He holds my gaze as if he’s reading me, and I feel another one of my walls crumble to the ground. “I have no doubt.”

  Tugging on my lower lip, I take a step closer like I’ve suddenly become Madam No-Boundaries. “So why did you intervene?”

  “Let’s just say I have a weakness for redheads and American women. You happen to be both.”

  I knit my brows, tilting my head to the side. “Wait, how did you know that I was American?”

  “Eh.” He shrugs with a handsome smirk, locking his eyes with mine. “Call it a feeling.”

  Now, I’m the one having feelings. Mostly below my waist. Perhaps I have a weakness for dark-haired British men. “I’m Liz, by the way,” I say, offering my hand.

  He takes it, and even though we’re only shaking hands, the touch of his skin against mine shoots an ecstasy-like sensation down to the tips of my cold toes. “Kent.”

  “Like Clark Kent?” No wonder the guy wanted to rescue me. He’s got the name of a superhero.

  “More like Kent the county,” he says, seeming reluctant to correct my flattering comparison.

  “Is that where you’re from? Kent?” I can’t help but say his name like I’m wearing a piece of sexy lingerie, trying to seduce him. Not trashy but classy, like Kate Golden Lingerie. Man, it feels good to flirt with someone. It’s been too long since I’ve been even remotely interested in someone tearing my clothes off.

  Kent laughs and I wonder if he’s enjoying this little conversation as much as I am. “Afraid not. Born and raised in London.” He looks away, letting out a deep sigh. “Good old London.”

  “What’s the matter? You don’t like it here?”

  He returns his attention back to me. “No, I love it. It’s home. But I like the idea of moving to another city. Having a new experience.”

  “Definitely. You should do it. Live a little. I’ve lived in three different cities in the last ten years.” I sip my wine thinking that I miss home.

  “And where do you call home now?”

  “Good old San Francisco,” I say with a satisfied smile.

  “No way. That’s one of my favorite cities. But I never get to spend much time there. You’re a lucky woman, Liz.” Another wall tumbles as he uses my name. It’s the little things that get me excited sometimes. The last man I was with never used my name. Ever. And on the rare occasion he did, it sounded empty, almost like he wasn’t talking about me.

  Kent smacks his slightly purple lips as if he’s tasting the burgundy for the first time, even though his glass is nearly empty. “Not bad for cheap pinot.”

  “That’s what I thought. And I’m kind of a wine snob.” I hope my lips aren’t purple. It’s not unusual for me to look like I’ve had twelve glasses of wine after only two because I stain so easily.

  “Oh really?” He squints his eyes like he’s just as skeptical as he is intrigued.

  I nod. “That’s why I settled in San Francisco.”

  “Makes sense.” Kent’s expression softens.

  “It was totally wishful thinking though. With my workload, I never have time to get up to the vineyards. I do have a standing order with some of the wineries, though. I get a new case every month.” Between his brief silence and my potentially purple lips, I wonder if he thinks I’m some kind of wino.

  “I collect wine myself. Actually, I think I’ll get another. Would you like one?”

  I hand over my nearly empty glass, almost batting my lashes. “Sure.”

  Kent walks away and I keep my eyes glued to his sexy strut until he makes it to the bar, then shift my glance to the hem of his pants. Nothing wrong with a confident man who knows the importance of a properly tailored suit. He looks at his phone while he waits for the drinks, so I pull mine out too. Not a damn thing from Jacqueline. Something must’ve happened. Oh, well. I’m sure I’ll see her for our appointment tomorrow, which is fine with me. Now that I’ve made a friend, this shindig doesn’t seem so bad. Not to mention, I’ve been working so hard this last year that I haven’t had any time for fun. And I think Kent and I could have a good time together.

  Holding two freshly filled glasses of wine, Kent returns promptly and I take note of his bare ring finger. “Here you are,” he says, handing me a glass. “I requested a different pinot. They just opened the bottle.”

  “Thanks. How did you manage that?”

  “I have my ways. So, Liz,” there it is again, “are you here by yourself?”

  I glance around the room one final time. “I was supposed to meet someone I’m working with but she hasn’t shown up yet.”

  Kent raises his drink. “Her loss is my gain.” Clinking my glass to his, I imagine what it would be like to clink our bodies together. I blush at the thought. Would it be terrible to have this guy keep me warm under the covers in this cold city?

  “So I guess since this is a networking event, we should talk about business,” he says.

  I have no desire to talk business with Kent. I’d rather let our bodies do the talking. Geez, I must’ve just relaxed enough to wake my libido that’s been sleeping while I’ve been working all year. “Well, I own and run an online retail store.” Can’t wait to see how he reacts to this.

  He lifts his brow like he’s impressed. “That’s great. How’s business?”

  Considering I just signed that deal with Bonnaire Capital, I respond, “Business is good and it gets better every day. What about you? You must be pretty important for the bartender to serve you a special bottle of wine.”

  He stifles his smirk as if he’s trying on modesty. “I’m in finance.”

  I make a clicking noise with my tongue. “Now, see, I would have pegged you for a real estate guy.”

  Kent laughs, then takes a sip of his wine and swallows hard with a slight grimace. “This is not very good at all.”

  “No?” I tilt my head before sampling the drink. I’m not a fan either. “I see what you mean.”

  “I don’t even know why I bother drinking at these things. I have a collection of pinot noir at home.”

  “Are you serious?” My heart flips. This guy might love wine as much as I do. “I collect wine too.”

  “I bet. You live close enough to some of the best vineyards in the world.” He leans in and almost whispers in my ear. “I have a bottle of 2001 Winslett Pinot Noir from Napa Valley. I’ve been waiting to share it with someone who actually appreciates a good glass.”

  I gasp. “You wouldn’t tease a girl, would you?” Winslett wine is one of my favorites.

  “No.” His gaze falls from my eyes to my mouth. If he kisses me right now, I’ll be okay wit
h that. More than okay. “Is it too soon to ask you to come back to my place?”

  That works too. “To share that bottle of wine?” I squint my eyes, pretending to weigh the pros and cons. “No, it’s not too soon. I’ll get my coat.”

  Before I even hand it over, Kent takes my wine glass. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

  His eyes lock with mine for a moment and I tug at the side of my lower lip, praying that my cheeks are not as pink as they feel and that my lips are not as purple as they typically are after one glass. I turn away, swishing my hips side to side and tossing my hair back over my shoulder. No more lonely Liz. Not tonight, anyway.

  TWO

  Kent

  Liz looks like she tastes even more delicious than a fine wine. Half of the men in the room shot me dirty looks when I dragged her away from that guy. It’s not the first time I’ve been with the hottest woman in the room. But Liz isn’t just hot, she lives in one of my favorite cities, she’s a businesswoman, and she knows wine. I could get into a woman like that.

  I wait for her in the lobby, checking emails on my phone and sending quick responses back. The smell of something sweet and floral draws near. I take my eyes off the screen. Liz’s perfect, slightly wine-stained lips turn up into a smile. Her fair skin looks even creamier against her black coat and I’m struck by her classic beauty.

  She glances down at my device and immediately her eyes fly open in horror as if there’s a huge spider crawling across the screen. “Where’s your phone case?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  She folds her arms and lifts her pretty, thin brow. “You’re not afraid of cracking the screen?”

  I shake my head, stifling a laugh. By the look on her face, she takes protective cases very seriously. “No. There are very few things in this world that scare me.”