London Falling by Emma Carr

to poke him in the eye. “Cupcake is your responsibility, not mine. Besides, they clearly don’t care enough”
    “His name is not Cupcake. That’s a name for a girl, not a fierce male terrier.”
    “Oh, so he is your dog?” Aimee asked. He’d just painted himself into a corner on this one, and she couldn’t keep from smiling.
    “He’s not my dog,” he said, with an exasperated sigh.
    “Well, I guess you don’t have the ability to name him then.” Aimee called to the dog, “Come on, Cupcake, let’s go.” As soon as she made eye contact, the puppy trotted over to her and licked her shoe. She stepped around Simon and had the satisfaction of Cupcake pitter-pattering right behind her. “Well, I guess we know who you like better, don’t we, Cupcake?”
    “Bloody Yank,” Simon said.
    Aimee laughed, hoping the sound echoed back to him. For the first time in days, she was feeling hope. She finally had a plan.
    She just had to find a way to execute it without him finding out.

Chapter Five
    Simon stomped upstairs to shave. What had he done to deserve this?
    After everything he’d been through, he thought he’d finally turned the corner, the game-winning goal within reach. But no. Life had to throw an attractive woman to block his shot in the championship match.
    No more! He had to get his life under control, starting with work, because without Ruleford’s, he was just another random bloke on the street.
    In the en-suite, he yanked his razor out of the cabinet. He hadn’t let his beard grow for longer than a day since he’d started at the bank. Another sign of how unmanageable his life had become. All due to that stupid American.
    No, not stupid. Smart. Wily. And bloody attractive.
    He knew he had to stop thinking of her that way, but it was difficult to get her off his mind, perhaps because she was so different from the other women he knew. A face devoid of makeup and a giant halo of uncontrolled curls were suddenly more attractive than the most perfectly coiffed beauty.
    On top of that, she’d worn the dodgiest pajama bottoms and t-shirt non-stop for the past few days. Yet, there was something about her, an inner radiance that made her brown-green eyes shine with life. Determination, perhaps. Her gaze was surprisingly direct for a woman who hid her emotion behind a brave facade. And then there were those curls that reminded him of the color of the leaves on the tree in the park every fall. He wanted to wind her hair around his fingers and tease the spirals loose.
    He shook his head. It wouldn’t do to think of an employee like that. He’d never ever made a pass at anyone who worked for him, and he wasn’t going to start now. Sex just complicated things. Besides, he’d never had any trouble finding companionship outside of the work environment. Then again, technically, Aimee didn’t work for him.
    The razor made a tiny nick in his chin.
    He had to be suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. With the biggest challenge of his career at stake, she held him hostage, and all he wanted to do was help her. The woman had no family! How could he live with himself if he tossed her on the street?
    But he was too close to finally earning the royals’ business to cock up now. It was the one thing his father wanted more than anything, and Simon was about to serve it to him on a silver platter. If he pulled this off, his father would have no more excuses for not turning the bank over to him, yet here he was: two steps from an immigration scandal and a private detective stationed outside his home.
    His sister wasn’t helping the matter. Bartering for a ridiculous fairy cake recipe. Total rubbish. Although, bartering was a neat trick to get around his no funds dictate. He rinsed his face and touched a styptic pencil to his cut.
    Lucy had an interesting take on the situation. Bartering could solve his standoff with Aimee and also solve his housekeeper problem. And to ensure that she wouldn’t tell tales, he could still hold