One Hot Chase (Hot Brits #12)

Chapter One

Sabrina

Just call me Sabrina Remington, man hunter. I have all the tools of the trade---determination, sex appeal, and brains. My designer dress catches the attention of every passerby, but so far, I haven't spotted any potential targets in my search for a British hottie here in London. How difficult can it be? If my sister could snag her PC, I can do it too. That would be my Perfect Catch, not a personal computer or Prince Charming. Fairy tales and circuitry won't get me what I want. It's time to fry those circuits and get real about love.

I swore I'd never date again. But I don't want to be the only Remington girl who isn't hitched. That's pathetic.

As I step out of the taxi that brought me to my destination, I give the driver a generous tip. He kept me entertained with his jokes during the ride from Heathrow airport to the luxurious Savoy Hotel in the heart of London. The name alone exudes sophistication, doesn't it? Savoy. My almost brother-in-law, Spencer Halfenaked, used his connections to secure me a suite at one of the most exclusive hotels in the city. He's a great guy, and he makes my sister Tabitha so happy. Spencer's friend, the British billionaire Diana Hahn, arranged for me to stay in one of the swankiest suites at the Savoy.

But I digress.

As I make my way toward the building's entrance, I tilt my head back to admire the large, illuminated letters above me that spell out the name: S-A-V-O-Y. Wow . I'm actually here. A grin spreads across my face as I take in the moment. Finally, after all these years, I've left America and arrived at my destination. And it all begins here, at the Savoy.

I try my best to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor as I step into the foyer. Holy cow . This is by far the fanciest hotel I have ever laid eyes on, even compared to the ones I've seen on television. Growing up in Asheville, North Carolina, I never had much exposure to luxury or glamour. Londoners probably think this hotel is nothing special. As I come to a halt in the center of the grand foyer, I spin around slowly to take in every detail. That includes gorgeous harlequin tiles on the floor and a sparkling chandelier suspended above me.

When I'd said goodbye to my sister Tabitha at the Asheville airport, I'd asked her how much the hotel cost. It took some prodding, but I eventually got her to confess just how expensive the Savoy really is.

Four thousand dollars a night, that's how much. Four thousand .

Damn, I have amazing family and friends.

I approach the front desk, where a friendly-looking clerk welcomes me with a warm smile. He efficiently checks me in and gives me a key card, then gestures toward a bellhop who takes command of my luggage. We ride the elevator up to my floor and straight to the one-bedroom River View Suite, which offers a stunning panorama of the Thames. I tip the bellhop generously, thanks to the spending money donated by my family and friends. They support my wild ideas about man-hunting. Not sure why they're willing to finance my plan. I suppose they realize I'm on a mission and nothing can stop me from searching for my PC.

As soon as the bellhop leaves, I begin to explore my environment. The entryway and bathroom both feature stunning harlequin tiles, but ooh, the living room offers lavish wood floors. And wow, I've never seen such a huge TV before. There's even a cozy fireplace and a comfy sofa for cuddling up with my as-yet-unnamed honey.

Finally, I tear myself away from the fireplace and rush over to the big picture window to get a closer look, nearly stumbling over the small table and chairs placed only a few inches away from the glass. An exclamation of "shit!" bursts out of me, but I cannot be stopped. I plaster my hands and face to the window.

And I start talking to myself. It's a bad habit of mine. "Ooh! Oh, my God! That huge Ferris wheel is the London Eye."

Spencer described the giant wheel to me, and I can't wait to take a spin on it during my UK adventure. He also promised that I'd have a great view of Westminster Bridge from my suite, which I can now see in the distance. I can also see another bridge, but I can't recall its unusual name. And though Big Ben isn't within sight, I know it's nearby.

Once I'm done gawking, I turn around---and yelp.

My heart races briefly. I hadn't noticed the big mirror hanging on the wall beside the TV. It's possible I'm a little too excited about my ritzy vacation. A quick perusal of the rest of my digs convinces me that I've died and gone to heaven.

Once I've washed away the travel grime in my luxurious shower, I spiff myself up for the evening. Tonight, I won't need to leave the hotel. I'm heading straight for the Savoy's Beaufort Bar.

The moment I step into the room, I know this is where I'll find my first target. It sets the perfect mood for my hunt. With dim lighting and stylish chairs, plus a DJ spinning steamy tunes, I feel the warmth of anticipation blossoming within me. And as I browse the menu, I discover a variety of indulgent options like caviar, oysters, grilled chicken with spicy dressing, and tempting desserts. I settle on a cocktail first, selecting a Halo Highball made with whisky as well as carbonated strawberry and pink peppercorn wine water. Not sure what that is, but it sounds yummy.

Sipping my drink, I browse the room for a potential target. But most of the men who walk into the bar arrive with a woman on their arm. Come on, there must be one hot single guy in this hotel.

I take a slow sip of my cocktail, letting the flavors mingle on my tongue as I survey the bar. And there he is---my quarry. A tall, gorgeous man in a three-piece gray suit saunters into the room, his movements smooth and confident. He pauses for a moment, scanning the crowd before he begins to make his way toward me. As he comes closer, I can't resist admiring the way his suit hugs his muscular frame, accentuating the broadness of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist. His dark brown hair is cropped short, just long enough for me to run my fingers through it. His crisp white shirt is open at the collar, revealing a hint of the tanned skin beneath.

When he finally reaches my table, our eyes meet and a jolt of electricity shoots through me. His slow, knowing smile shifts my pulse into overdrive and gives me a tingly feeling that spreads downward to settle between my thighs. I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his cologne, a mix of sandalwood and musk that makes my head spin. As I gaze into his deep blue eyes, I know this guy must be the one I've waited for.

He pushes one hand into his pocket, cocking his hip just enough to accentuate the bulge of his dick. "Darling, please tell me you're alone tonight."

A rush of warmth steals my breath away. That deep voice and his British accent could make me weak in the knees, if I weren't already sitting down. "Yes, I'm by myself. Would you care to join me?"

"I'd love nothing more."

He waits patiently while I adjust my position to make room for him on the bench. Then he settles onto the cushioned seat beside me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. "You, my sweet, are the most delectable creature I've ever met. You're American, aren't you? I noticed your accent when you spoke."

"Yes, I'm American. And you are British."

"Ah, but I'm so much more than merely British." His mouth kinks into a sly smile, and he winks. "Think of me as your erotic tour guide, the only man who can make all your most scandalous fantasies come true tonight."

My inner muscles clench, as if in anticipation of the delights he promises to deliver. I know this guy might be full of it, but I don't give a damn as long as I come like a rocket blasting off into outer space.

A one-night stand? I've never done that before. But I've had enough of always playing by the rules and getting burned.

I gaze directly into the shimmering pools of his blue eyes. "Yes, please, I want that."

"You won't regret it, darling." He leans in closer, and the heady scent of his cologne turns me on even more. "First, a kiss."

He leans in closer until his breaths whisper over our lips, almost touching. Now I can see the faint creases around his blue eyes and the darker rims that surround them. I can't believe I'm actually doing this. When he lightly presses his lips to mine, my jaw slackens and a soft sigh whispers out of me as my lids drift closed.

Suddenly, the intoxicating scent of him fades away.

He clucks his tongue. "Oh, no, pet, that won't do."

My eyes fly open. "What?"

The guy wrinkles his nose, and his lip curls. "Did you have any garlic this evening?"

I pull my head back. "Excuse me?"

He straightens and puckers his lips. "If you mean to seduce someone, at least have the decency to brush your teeth first. Halitosis is not a turn-on."

For a few seconds, I'm confused by his statement. Bad breath? I made sure to brush my teeth before coming to this bar. But I won't bother explaining myself to this jerk. He hasn't earned the right to criticize my personal hygiene.

"I haven't eaten anything yet," I quickly inform him, as if it's any of his business. "You are the rudest man I've ever met."

The jerk studies me for a moment, as if he's trying to assess my intelligence or...something. "Never mind that, pet. I'll overlook your halitosis this time. But for the benefit of your future lovers, remember to use mouthwash too."

"You jackass. I do not have bad breath."

The obnoxious man scoots closer until our thighs brush against each other. "Don't worry, darling, I'll still fuck you."

"No, you will not. I despise you. Out of all the jerks I've ever met, you win the prize for being the most insufferable."

Maybe that isn't entirely true. No one could surpass my ex-husband for the title of Rat Fink of the Century.

The stranger sitting beside me hooks his finger under my chin and kisses my cheek so delicately that my pulse accelerates. I can't deny he smells deliciously good. As he skims his lips up to my jawline, my nipples begin to tingle. It must be the scent of his cologne making me feel this way. I'd bet that in everyday life he smells like garlic---and stinky sweat socks.

He murmurs into my ear, "Let's order a drink first."

"I already have a cocktail."

He glances at my glass, waving at it dismissively. "No, no, no, my sweet, that won't do. Rose-colored cocktails are for cocks who never get any tail. We need a real drink." He flags down a waiter, who quickly makes his way to our table. "Bring us a bottle of Grey Goose vodka."

"I apologize, sir, but we only serve cocktails."

Undeterred, he pulls out three hundred-pound notes. "Then bring us the entire bottle. Keep the change."

The waiter's eyes flare wide briefly, then he nods and hurries off to fetch the vodka.

Yeah, I'm taken aback by the man's generous tip too.

But then the sexy jerk nuzzles my neck, sending waves of desire pulsating through my body. I melt into his embrace. If only he didn't smell so irresistibly yummy...

The waiter returns quickly, placing a bottle of vodka and two tumblers on the table. They young man hesitates, as if he wants to ask whether we want him to open the bottle, but ultimately decides against it. He scurries off to attend to other customers.

My mysterious companion slides his hand down my thigh and slips it under my dress. As his long fingers gently caress my mound, I inhale sharply and squirm on the bench. He moves his hand inside my panties to cup me intimately, making me gasp again. With one hand still covering my mound, he deftly opens the vodka bottle and pours a generous amount into each tumbler.

Then he hands me a glass. "Vodka should be savored in small sips to let the flavor and the fiery sensation gradually take hold and suffuse your senses."

"Uh, sure," I reply, struggling to regain control of my wits while his hand still rests on my intimate areas and the soft, alluring tone of his voice is driving me out of my mind.

"Take a sip, love."

I wrap my fingers around the glass and lift it to my mouth. The aroma of cream and pepper with a hint of whisky teases my senses. As I tilt the glass back and let the liquid glide over my tongue, I taste notes of freshly baked bread, creamy sweetness, honey, and a touch of citrus. The intense combination of flavors and aromas awakens all my senses and every part of my body. But I can't solely blame the vodka for that. The man whose hand is inside my panties deserves some credit too.

He sips from his own glass and moans with pleasure before nibbling on my earlobe. "Now, darling, it's time for you to come, right here in this booth."