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‘No…No, it’s not that.’
‘Then what is it?’
She blurted out the first thing that came into her head. ‘I—I was just wondering if I should try and move my car.’
‘Leave it where it is,’ he told her decidedly. ‘It shouldn’t be in anyone’s way and first thing tomorrow morning I’ll get my garage to tow it in and do the necessary repairs.
‘Now, is there anything you need out of it?’
‘A small case on the back seat.’
‘Jump in and I’ll get it.’
He had left the engine running and in a moment she was installed in the warmth and comfort of the most luxurious car she had ever been in.
Not even Maurice De Vere had a car in that class.
She found herself wondering what a visitor—and, as she had never seen either him or his car before, the dark-haired stranger must be a visitor—was doing in Cartel’s car park so late in the evening…
Her case deposited in the boot, he slid in beside her and reached to fasten both their seat belts. That done, he turned to her and, in the light from the dashboard, studied her face.
Embarrassed by his close scrutiny and only too aware that with wet, bedraggled hair and a shiny nose she must look an absolute fright, she felt her cheeks grow warm.
As though sensing her discomfort, he moved away a little and asked, ‘Where to?’
‘I—I don’t know,’ she stammered.
He raised a dark brow. ‘Amnesia?’
Knowing he was making fun of her and vexed with herself for losing her usual calm composure and acting like a fool, she took a deep breath and said crisply, ‘Certainly not.’
Pulling a mournful face, he observed, ‘Oh, dear…now you’re mad with me.’
For an instant she wavered between annoyance and amusement. Amusement won and she smiled.
Smiling back, he observed, ‘That’s better.’
His smile increased his charm a thousandfold and she found herself thinking that a lot of women would find him irresistible…
Suddenly becoming aware that he’d asked a question she hadn’t caught, she pulled herself together and said, ‘I’m sorry?’
‘I asked why don’t you know?’
Trying to be brief and succinct, she explained, ‘Well, the house I live in is being refurbished, which means my flat is un-inhabitable, and I’m staying with a friend…’
He listened, his dark eyes fixed on her face.
Thrown by the intentness of his gaze, she momentarily lost the thread.
Then, realising he was waiting, she carried on a shade distractedly, ‘Her boyfriend is in London and expecting to stay with her. But her flat is really only a bedsit, so you see I have to find a hotel.’
It seemed like a heaven-sent opportunity and, his thoughts racing, he said, ‘That shouldn’t be a problem. There are plenty of hotels in London. You don’t have any particular preference?’
‘No, anywhere will do…So long as it’s not too expensive,’ she added hurriedly.
But, judging by his clothes and his car, he wouldn’t have to consider expense, so he was hardly likely to know any of the cheaper places. And she couldn’t expect him to go touring London on her behalf when he’d already been held up and inconvenienced.
Recalling her earlier thought, she said, ‘I’m not sure if it’s still there, but there used to be a small hotel quite close to here, on Mather Street…I think it was called the Fairbourn…’
His well-marked brows drew together over a straight nose. ‘If it’s the place I’m thinking of, I wouldn’t say it was particularly prepossessing.’
So long as it was clean and respectable, she wasn’t in a position to be over-fussy. ‘As it’s only for three nights, I can manage.’
Three nights suited his purpose even better, he thought jubilantly.
Things had been going smoothly, but the business trip he’d been forced to take had cost him precious time and they had managed to trace her much faster than he’d anticipated.
Hence the sudden need for drastic action.
Which had worked so far, he reminded himself. But with so much at stake, he simply couldn’t afford to mess things up.
‘As the Fairbourn may well have closed down,’ he said smoothly, ‘and it’s hardly the sort of night to be touring the town in search of accommodation, I suggest you come home with me.’
CHAPTER TWO
WHEN, staggered, wondering what he had in mind, Tina simply stared at him, he repeated evenly, ‘Come home with me.’
Knowing what kind of woman she was, he hadn’t expected much in the way of opposition and was shaken when she said, as if she meant it, ‘I couldn’t possibly do that.’
‘Why not? There’s a perfectly good guest room standing empty.’
Though she was reassured by the mention of a guest room, there were other considerations. A mature man in his late twenties or early thirties, he might well be married. ‘Thank you,’ she began, ‘but I—’
‘It makes sense to come for tonight at least,’ he broke in decidedly. ‘Then tomorrow, if you want to move into a hotel, you’d have all day to find somewhere suitable.’
Rather than ask if he was married, she said, ‘What on earth would your wife say?’
‘As I don’t have a wife, not a lot.’
He hadn’t a wife. Her spirits rose with a bound.
Then common sense took over. If he hadn’t a wife, he would almost certainly have a live-in lover.
‘But you must have…I mean there must be…’
‘A woman around?’ he supplied quizzically.
‘Well…yes.’
‘Oh, there is.’
Though she had half expected it, her heart sank.
‘Thank you,’ she said carefully. ‘It’s very kind of you to suggest it, but—’
He sighed. ‘Now I’ve put you off and I thought you’d feel easier, knowing there was another woman around the place.’
She shook her head. ‘I really think I should go to a hotel. It’ll be far less trouble for—’
‘Oh, Gwen won’t mind,’ he said easily.
If she was living with him she wouldn’t be too happy if he brought a woman home he didn’t even know. Decidedly, she began, ‘I’m quite sure your girlfriend would—’
‘Oh, Gwen’s not my girlfriend. She’s my housekeeper. A very upright woman,’ he added solemnly. ‘A pillar of the church and so forth.’
Feeling as though she was on a roller coaster and with the disturbing impression that he was enjoying teasing her, Tina frowned.
‘Is that a problem?’ he asked, straight faced. ‘Do you have anything against religious women?’
‘Of course not,’ she began. Then, seeing the wicked gleam in his eye, she stopped speaking and gritted her teeth.
‘In that case it’s all settled,’ he announced calmly and let in the clutch.
He had managed it so smoothly that they had pulled out of the car park and joined the evening stream of traffic that flowed down Lansdale Road before she could gather her wits enough to assess the situation.
Though she was very attracted to him and wanted to be with him, the voice of caution warned that to meekly go off with a man she knew nothing about was reckless in the extreme.
Just because he was well-dressed and well-spoken and had a big expensive car, it didn’t necessarily mean that he was trustworthy.
As her mother would have phrased it, he might have designs on her.
Though why should he?
She was tall and slim with good skin and neatish features, but she was nothing to write home about, certainly not the sort to drive men wild.
And a man with his looks and charisma wouldn’t be short of lady friends. In fact, with so much going for him he wouldn’t need to lift a finger to have eager females queuing up.
But, apart from that, there was something about him, she felt, a kind of basic integrity that was oddly reassuring. And this might well be her one and only chance to get to know him. If she insisted on being dropped off at a hotel, in all probability she would never see him again.
The thought was like a hand squeezing her heart.
It didn’t seem possible for a quiet, self-contained woman like herself to feel so strongly about a man she had only just met and didn’t know.
Yet she did.
Throwing caution to the wind, she asked, ‘Where do you live?’
His build-up of tension relaxing, he smiled. ‘I’ve a house in Pemberley Square, close to St James’s Park.’
‘Oh…’A far cry from Mather Street and the Fairbourn Hotel.
‘As we’ll be spending the night…’ He paused. ‘I was about to say together…but, as that might be misconstrued, I’ll say under the same roof, I think we should introduce ourselves, don’t you? My name’s Richard Anders.’
‘Mine’s Tina Dunbar.’
‘Tina?’ He sounded surprised.
‘Short for Valentina,’ she explained reluctantly.
He gave her a sideways glance and, his voice casual, asked, ‘Is Valentina a family name?’
‘No.’
‘Born on February the fourteenth?’
She nodded. ‘That’s right. Though these days Valentine is used for either sex, unfortunately my mother preferred to stick with the feminine form.’
‘Unfortunately?’
‘Valentina is a bit of a mouthful.’
‘I like it.’
‘Oh…’ She felt a little warm glow.
As they headed for the West End, the wipers rhythmically swishing, the wet, almost deserted pavements reflecting back the brightly lit shop windows, he said, ‘So you’re with Cartel Wines…What do you do, Valentina…?’
Very conscious of him, of the handsome, clear-cut profile, the closeness of his muscular thigh to hers, the faint male scent of his cologne, she tried to drag her mind away from the man himself and focus on the question.
‘Are you a buyer?’
‘No. I’m responsible for public relations and sales promotions.’ Then, with a sinking feeling, ‘Or, rather, I was.’
‘You’re leaving?’
‘I’ve no choice. I learnt this afternoon that Matterhorn, the group who have taken over Cartel’s, have their own promotional team coming in next week, which makes me redundant.’
‘So you won’t be going back?’ he pursued.
‘No. I’ve cleared my desk.’
‘Have you been working for Cartel Wines long?’
‘Ever since I left college,’ she answered without thinking.
He gave her a quick sideways smile. ‘As you look about sixteen…’
Wishing fruitlessly that she looked her usual cool, composed self, she said quickly, ‘I’m twenty-three,’ and was aware that she had sounded indignant.
