One Hot Roomie: Hot Brits, #2

Contents

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

About the Author

Connect with Anna Durand

Copyright Page

Chapter One

Reese

I dig the key out of my pocket and unlock the door, pushing it open to walk into my new flat—temporary flat, loaned to me by my brother's fiancée, for the sole purpose of finding an American girl to shag. All right, maybe that isn't the reason I gave Chance and Elena. My brother and his almost wife wouldn't have lent me this flat otherwise. When I'd announced to Dane, my other brother, that I was going to shag an American girl, no one took me seriously. Everyone heard me shout it, but they know I love to make jokes.

This time, I'm not joking. That's my plan. Find, win over, and sleep with a New York woman.

Why not? It's a bit of fun, nothing more. A holiday from my life which has started to, as my almost sister-in-law might say, suck royally.

Another hot British guy in the Big Apple, Elena had said when she and Chance saw me off at the airport, for my big holiday in the US. Try not to leave a trail of broken hearts. You Dixon boys are impossible to resist.

My brother found a wife in America, but I'm not after that. Women never want to date me, much less marry me, because they know I'm good for one thing. All I need is a girl in my bed.

Well, the bed is optional.

I drop my bag on the floor beside the sofa and turn in a circle to get the full view of my new temporary home. Elena's flat, which she told me Americans call an apartment, has big windows with a view of the city. She says at night the view is spectacular, with all the skyscrapers glowing with lights. I suppose that view might help me win over an American girl. It can't hurt.

A bar separates the living room from the kitchen, where I see the refrigerator, the cooker—ah, the oven—and all the other items a kitchen is meant to have. Elena told me her brother Kyle, a college student, had left the refrigerator stocked with beer in case he wanted to stay here for a weekend now and then as a break from living on campus. Elena also said she left food in the fridge for me, so I won't have to live on beer. She gave me the numbers for all the best takeaway restaurants in the area too.

Elena called them takeout restaurants. I need to remember these American words if I'm going to impress the ladies instead of confusing them. Chance warned me about that problem.

He and Elena are getting married in fourteen days, in New Hampshire of all places. It's where they live now. That means I have two weeks to make my American dream come true. I jumped on a plane the day after Elena offered me her flat. Chance paid for my ticket because it was expensive to get a last-minute flight and because I'm, well, financially challenged at the moment.

Losing my job has that effect. Not my fault I'm unemployed. Sometimes it just happens, and yeah, it royally sucks.

I drop onto the sofa, stretching out lengthwise on the very puffy cushions. Elena and Kyle used to share this flat, and they've left all the furniture. That includes the sofa, two equally puffy chairs, and a table. I cross my ankles, link my hands behind my head, and sigh with contentment. Closing my eyes, I begin to formulate a plan for hunting down eligible women.

Oh!

A feminine voice bursts out with that exclamation.

I spring off the sofa, as surprised by the intruder as she seems to be by me. The girl has on nothing but a sleeveless white top and plaid knickers that barely cover her arse. Her honey-brown eyes are so wide with shock that I wonder if they'll pop out of their sockets.

She shakes her head furiously, making the ponytail she's gathered her blonde hair into flap like a dog's tail. No, no, don't rape me. I'm a virgin.

What? I—You're the intruder.

Am not. I have a key.

So do I. Raising the key, I wave it in the air. Here it is.

This girl is pretty, and she's got a body I'd love to touch and kiss and lick all over. Maybe I've already found my American girl to shag.

If' she'll stop accusing me of being a sexual predator.

Kyle said I could have the place, she says. So go. Scoot.

Elena and Chance invited me to stay here. Alone. I inch closer but stop when her eyes get even wider. Ring Elena and ask. She'll tell you.

The girl eyes me, her mouth contorting into the most endearing look of suspicion and curiosity. She hurries to the bar, leaning over it to grab something off the kitchen counter. The movement makes her tiny knickers slip down just enough to give me a glimpse of her arse cheeks.

She straightens, now holding a mobile phone, and taps its screen several times. Holding the phone to her ear, she keeps her suspicious gaze trained on me. Your aura looks okay, but I better check with—Hey Elena, it's me. Did you invite some British guy to stay here? At your apartment. What? Kyle said I could.

I watch her lips pucker while she listens to whatever Elena is telling her.

Ugh, that Kyle. The girl rolls her eyes. He's a sweetie but such a dufus sometimes. She eyes me again. Are you sure he's safe? Yeah, of course, but… Uh-huh. You're the one who told me I'm too trusting. How do I know this really is Reese Dixon?

Though I'm missing half the conversation, I can guess most of what's going on. Elena is explaining to her friend that I'm not a psychotic sex offender who escaped from prison an hour ago and is desperate to get a leg over with the first female he sees.

I might be gagging for it, but not because I'm a predator. I've been experiencing a bit of a drought lately.

Okay, the girl says. She holds her phone away from her face to peer at the screen. Her gaze flicks to me and then back to the screen. She sighs and tells Elena, I guess he is who he claims to be. Thanks, hon.

She hangs up, sets her phone on the bar, and walks up to me. She tips her head back to meet my gaze.

The sexy little American offers me her hand. I'm Arden Clover Pesti. It's nice to meet you, Reese Dixon.

I shake her hand, loving how soft and warm her skin is. She smells good too, like powder and cocoa butter. It's nice to meet you too. Arden, is it? That's an unusual name, especially for a girl.

Yeah, it's weird, I know. Blame my parents. They're big-time hippies, even though the hippie thing ended in, like, nineteen seventy-seven.

Hippies?

Flower children, bohemians, beatniks, et cetera.

I know what the word means. I love that she's keeping her hand in mine, even though the greetings are over. Her skin is like porcelain, with the faintest freckles on it. Are you friends with Elena, then? Or just Kyle?

Elena is my BFF. We're like this. She pulls her palm away from mine so she can link the fingers of both hands in a locking gesture. We're tight. Inseparable. I mean, except for the past nine months when I was in Ecuador with the Peace Corps.

That's an admirable thing to do.

She shrugs. I wanted to see the world, so I joined up. All I ever saw was Ecuador.

I scratch the back of my neck, wincing slightly. Sorry I scared you. Elena said I'd have the place to myself.

The Linwoods have definitely got some crossed wires going on.

Although Kyle Linwood had left beer in the apartment, it was Elena who'd told me that. I never actually spoke to Kyle. The Linwoods got their wires crossed for sure.

Arden smiles sweetly at me, swinging her hands at her sides. Elena mentioned you've never been to America before.

That's right. My brother has lived here for a long time, but I never got round to visiting him.

Well then. She spreads her arms wide and grins. Welcome to the United States of America and to New York City.

I can't help chuckling. She's so unbelievably adorable.

Thank you, I say. I feel at home already.

She comes closer, standing on her toes to look me in the eye, and her expression turns serious. New York is awesome, but there are a few things to watch out for. Cabbies will be obnoxious. It's their way. Never buy a falafel from a street vendor who has facial hair. Never have a mixed drink, unless you want to get roofied. She leans in more, her nose almost brushing mine. And watch out for the greys. They'll sneak up on you while you're sleeping, so keep a can of mace by your bed.

When she uses the term greys, I get the impression she's not talking about hair, which leaves me hopelessly confused.

Oh, she says, popping upright and holding up a finger, I almost forgot. Never flush the toilet on a Tuesday before eight a.m.

I see. I don't, not even a little, but I'm enjoying listening to her lovely voice. She can tell me any barmy thing she wants, and I'll listen without saying a word. I appreciate the advice.

She nods, seeming satisfied. Then she wanders off down the hall that Elena told me leads to a bathroom and two bedrooms.

Greys? What the bloody hell is that sexy, barmy girl on about?

I ring Elena to ask. Arden told me to watch out for greys, but I have no idea what that means. I didn't want to offend her by asking.

Elena laughs. She's a hoot, isn't she? You'll get used to her. Arden's the smartest person I've ever known, next to Chance, but she can be a little kooky.

Are you going to tell me what greys are?

Maybe I should let you figure that out on your own. Or you could ask Arden. She's not easily offended.

In the background of the call, I hear my brother's voice, but I can't understand what he's saying.

Gotta go, Elena says, Chance needs me. He's completely hopeless when it comes to picking out place settings for the wedding, but we have to do that before we fly to England in a couple hours. He actually chartered a jet for us.

Isn't midnight an odd time to shop for place settings? I have no idea what those are, but it sounds like a daytime shopping event.

"Yeah, but we