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He tensed. ‘Nicer than Cavendish?’
Was she thinking of leaving her concierge job? In some ways that would be good—it would free them of any messiness, given their positions there.
‘It’s quieter than Cavendish, but I don’t build the same relationship with my customers as I do there. I only work the late nights here.’ She glanced at the counter display. ‘It’s beautiful stationery.’
‘That’s why you work here—because you like the product?’
A bubble of laughter burst from her shimmering lips. ‘No, if I just liked the product, I’d buy it.’
‘So it’s money.’ He frowned, unhappy at the thought that she was forced to work two jobs. ‘We don’t pay you enough.’
A wary expression crossed her face. ‘It’s fine. I have commitments. Most of us do, right?’
He shouldn’t pry further but he couldn’t help watching intently, waiting to see if she’d say more. Her clear eyes dimmed with faint shadows.
‘Saving,’ she muttered, unable to help herself.
Unusually for him, his curiosity deepened. But it wasn’t his business. He had no right to press further. ‘Good for you.’
She nodded awkwardly. ‘So did you want anything in particular?’
He bit back the blunt answer of what he particularly wanted and made himself breathe first. ‘I wanted to see if it was really you.’
‘Well.’ That impish smile flashed on her lips, flicking away the shadows in her eyes. ‘It is.’
‘In another uniform.’ He couldn’t help noticing that damned demure neckline again.
‘Black again.’ She bit her lip as she quickly glanced down as if afraid she’d spilled something. ‘Always ready for a funeral, that’s me,’ she quipped. ‘But it’s discreet. Unobtrusive.’
‘I would never describe you as unobtrusive,’ he muttered quietly.
She’d burst into his life in a blaze of passion and fury.
She met his gaze, silently questioning just how he’d describe her. Unspoken awareness flickered between them, like a gravitational pull.
Her blush returned full force, a ruby tide over her creamy complexion. ‘I should get back to work. It’s almost time to close.’
She was flustered again. He was fascinated by her unconscious dance—she advanced closer with those challenges, then retreated in shyness. He glanced around the shop, pleased to discover it had emptied completely of other customers. ‘Show me the biggest seller.’
‘Seriously?’ The droll scepticism on her face was a picture.
Entertained by her expressiveness, he leaned closer. ‘Why not? You don’t think I can afford it?’
She sent him another look. ‘Well, I know you don’t need a new pen.’ She lifted an item from the counter and met his gaze with a prim, shop-girl pose. ‘But we have an exquisite range of journals.’
‘Exquisite,’ he echoed dryly.
‘Incredibly so,’ she emphasised, refusing to acknowledge his soft sarcasm.
‘What is it about girls and diaries?’ He reached out and traced the smooth leather cover with his finger. ‘Do you pour out your soul into one of these every night?’
‘What if I do?’ She lifted her chin in that irresistibly defiant gesture.
‘Would it make for fascinating reading?’ He was appallingly curious now. For the first time intrigued enough to want to know all a woman’s thoughts, all her wishes, every last secret and deepest desire.
‘Sadly, no. I only keep lists in mine.’ She reached across the counter and flipped an open book around to show him. ‘See?’
‘This is yours?’ His pulse rate lifted.
‘I work on it in quiet moments,’ she said. ‘I have permission from my boss—it’s good to see our products in use.’
Her defensiveness amused him. Was she as discomforted by him as much as he was by her? He leaned closer to read the scrawled list.
‘I forget things,’ she added nervously. ‘I’m naturally disorganised, so I work hard to get it together and nail my job. Lists are the only thing that work for me.’ She tried to pull the journal back but he planted his hand down to keep it there. His fingers brushed against her for the second time that day. Skin touched skin. She stilled, as did he.
A millisecond later she snatched her hand back. But he knew she’d felt that current of electricity flow between them.
He turned the pages of her journal, refusing to feel any remorse—she was the one who’d offered it for his viewing. But to his disappointment there were no deepest desires on show inside. Only ruthless organisation, as she’d said.
‘Everything in your life is dictated by a list?’ There were reminders, shopping lists, ticked-off tasks, pros and cons for other things… ‘It’s a lot of lists.’ He flicked through more pages, wishing there were something far more personal in it. ‘And in a rainbow of colours.’
‘It doesn’t need to be boring. Right? But I’m no artist, so I just choose a different colour for each…’
‘I have a planner,’ he offered idly. ‘But it’s online.’
‘Online?’ She shuddered theatrically. ‘I couldn’t get all these lists on the one screen. And what if it got deleted?’
‘What if you lost your journal?’ he countered with the obvious. ‘What if someone you don’t want to read it gets hold of it?’
Her impish grin darted back. ‘That’s why there are only lists and reminders.’
‘So, nothing too personal or incriminating?’ He sighed with genuine disappointment. ‘You’re not a risk-taker, then.’
Her eyes widened.
‘You won’t run the risk of someone discovering your secrets,’ he explained.
‘Perhaps I don’t have any,’ she muttered.
‘Everyone has secrets.’ And desires.
Silent, she just gazed back at him.
‘And I’ll bet you’re not really going clubbing,’ he added quietly.
This time her smile was more sheepish than impish, and she shook her head.
‘Have you had dinner?’ He didn’t give her time to answer. ‘I don’t think you’ve had time if you came straight from your shift at Cavendish. You must be hungry.’
He saw her hesitate and spoke again before she could deny it. ‘Have dinner with me.’
‘No thanks,’ she instantly answered.
‘Am I that awful?’ he shot back, unafraid to challenge her directly. He knew what he wanted. He knew what she wanted too. He was just more honest about it.
She stared at him for a moment, shocked. ‘No, I—’
‘Well, don’t let me down so roughly. It’s only dinner.’
Roughly? Ettie narrowed her eyes on him. He was pulling her leg, right? Behind that serious facade there was some humour. ‘It’s not a wise idea. You’re my boss.’
‘It’s not a date, just dinner. If it makes you feel better, you can tell me about life on the concierge desk. I need to know how the whole operation works. There’ll be no repercussions for complete honesty.’ He paused. ‘Anyway, I’m not really your boss.’
Yeah, right. ‘You own the building I work in.’
‘But a management company employs the staff.’
‘Do you own the management company?’ She wouldn’t have been surprised if he did.
‘They’re contracted… I don’t own them.’
‘So that makes it okay?’ Her heart was pounding unnaturally fast.
‘I think it creates a technicality we can take advantage of.’ He looked right at her. Those amber flecks in his eyes lit up with every word. ‘And you like breaking the stupid rules, right? This is a stupid one. Besides, I’m only living in the penthouse while I get my head around the building. Then I’ll lease it to a client and move to my next investment, so you won’t see me much.’
His message couldn’t be clearer. He was saying he’d stay out of her way. That his presence was temporary. That this was just dinner. Just one night.
But Ettie needed a moment.
‘You don’t ever want to stay in one of your buildings?’ She was intrigued by his transitory lifestyle.
‘I like projects. I like the excitement and unique challenge of each one, and once I’ve overcome that challenge it’s time to move on to another.’
She suspected he wasn’t just talking building acquisition. It was lovers as well. ‘You get bored easily?’
A speculative gleam heated his eyes even more. Yeah, he was talking on more than one level. But he answered with that customary seriousness. ‘I like to keep busy. I like having problems to grapple with.’
‘You don’t ever want to just blob out on the beach?’
He cocked his head and considered it briefly. ‘It’s not something I’ve ever done.’
‘Seriously?’ She frowned. ‘Not ever?’ Didn’t his parents own all those hotels in Greece? Wasn’t that the ultimate holiday destination? ‘You never have holidays?’
‘Do you?’ he countered.
‘I don’t have much choice.’ She grimaced. ‘I work hard but I don’t have the same financial rewards, and I have obligations…’ Which she didn’t want to go into with him right now. ‘What’s the point in all your success if you don’t stop and celebrate it every so often?’
‘The point is the success itself,’ he answered.
‘You don’t get tired?’ She was flummoxed. If she could take a break somewhere warm and beautiful, she’d be there in a heartbeat.
‘Don’t worry,’ he murmured. ‘I know how to relax.’
Yeah, she bet he did. She sent him a reproachful glare and he suddenly laughed. Ettie gaped, stunned at his instant transformation from unsmiling autocrat to hot, buttered hunk. She dragged oxygen into her tight lungs. It wasn’t right that a man should be so gorgeous.
‘It’s not what you’re thinking,’ he said. ‘Well, not entirely.’
‘How do you know what I’m thinking?’
‘It’s written all over your face.’
Hopefully not everything she was thinking. And hopefully it wasn’t obvious how her innards were positively melting. ‘So you don’t do this often? Pick up women and take them to dinner?’
‘No, not often, actually. Does that surprise you?’ His expression returned to serious as he studied her. ‘You don’t believe me?’
‘You’ve been seen with other women,’ she said.
His eyebrows shot up. ‘When?’
‘Last night, apparently.’ She tried to play it cool but she was already regretting bringing it up. ‘A woman leaving your apartment.’
He’d probably been celebrating his first night in Cavendish House.
Now Leon studied her for another long moment. She knew he was thinking. She just wished she knew what.
‘You were talking about me.’ His lips curved ever so slightly. ‘You were curious.’
Before she had the chance to deny it, or to apologise, or to melt in a swelter of embarrassment, he continued softly.
‘Was she seen in my company?’ he asked. ‘I don’t think so. The woman who left my apartment late last night had arrived only minutes earlier. She’s an acquaintance who’d heard I’d moved in. She came to see me as a surprise but it wasn’t something I wished to pursue.’
‘You don’t like surprises like that?’
What red-blooded man wouldn’t want to be surprised by some model-type turning up at midnight with a booty call on her mind?
‘I already told you,’ he replied. ‘I like challenges.’
Surely he didn’t see her as a challenge?
But she was pleased somehow, that he didn’t dally with anyone and everyone who offered.
Leon picked up her journal from the counter and opened it again to look at the long columns of her lists. ‘You could write a list about whether or not to have dinner with me.’ He shook his head and snapped her book shut. ‘Or you could just trust your instincts.’
Ettie regarded him warily. Her very basic instincts were hell-bent on leading her into trouble and her instincts had let her down before. Leon Kariakis was pure temptation and he knew it. Unfortunately for him, she was determined to remain in control of herself.
But this was a dare and he didn’t scare her.
‘All right, then,’ she decided with spirit. ‘Only to tell you all about the Cavendish.’
