by Sara Craven
Lou had to admit, as coffee was brought, that the meal hadn’t been the nightmare she’d envisaged. Under other circumstances, she might even have found Alex pleasant company. He’d chatted lightly about the food, a film he’d seen, a book he’d recently read, a concert he’d attended, and while doing so, she realised afterwards, had managed to extract a fair amount of information about her own tastes.
They would never be lovers, they might not even be friends, but there was a faint possibility that they could manage a certain level of coexistence, she told herself, trying to feel hopeful.
‘You’re very quiet,’ he said. ‘I hope that’s not a bad sign.’
‘No.’ She played with her coffee spoon. ‘I was just—thinking.’ She made herself look up, meet his quizzical gaze across the table. ‘Thinking that I’ll want the whole thing in writing—a proper contract between us.’
His brows lifted. ‘Naturally,’ he said with faint hauteur. ‘Do you want your father’s lawyers to act for you over the financial arrangements, or do you plan to conduct your own negotiations?’
‘I—I wasn’t talking about the money,’ she said jerkily. ‘But the rest of it. About it not being—a real marriage.’
‘Ah,’ he said meditatively. ‘You mean you don’t trust me to leave you in peace?’
‘Not—precisely.’ She drank some coffee. ‘But I think it’s better that the lines should be drawn. That we both know exactly where we stand.’
‘About a thousand miles apart, by the sound of it.’ He studied her with a faint frown. ‘I have no plans to seduce you, Louise. I thought I’d made that clear.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But all the same…’
‘All the same, you intend to hedge yourself round with rules and regulations,’ he said softly. ‘Tell me something, my sweet. Which of us don’t you trust? Is it me? Or could it possibly be yourself?’
She bit her lip. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘I ask,’ he went on, ‘because when I was holding your hand in the bar just now, your pulse was off the scale. And I found that—interesting.’
Lou put her cup down with a bang. ‘You’ve never heard of stress?’ she came back at him. ‘I imagine I’m allowed some kind of reaction to the worst day of my entire life.’
‘Or the first day of the rest of it,’ he said equably, ‘depending on your point of view.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘But the Pollyanna outlook has never appealed to me.’
‘But if you’re really so stressed,’ he went on, ‘the room is still ours for the rest of the afternoon, and I know something that might help.’
For a moment, the only sound to break the taut silence between them was her own indrawn breath. Then she rallied, her voice low and husky with anger.
‘How dare you—how dare you even suggest…’
‘A shoulder rub,’ he supplied. ‘It works for me every time.’ He gave her a mocking grin. ‘And I won’t even make you take your clothes off—unless you insist, of course.’
Her throat muscles were tightening, and she was shaking inside, but she forced herself to lift her chin and confront him.
She said, ‘Kindly don’t talk to me like that. Not now, not ever again, or the deal’s off, and to hell with Trentham Osborne.’
‘Hell,’ Alex said, ‘is going to be extremely crowded at this rate.’ He paused. ‘I suppose that’s going to be Clause Three, subsection B of the contract. The party of the first part—me—will not tease, wind up or joke with the party of the second part—you. Especially on any subject even remotely connected with sex.’
She said stiffly, ‘No doubt you find this very amusing…’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I find it sad. But you’re not the only woman in the world with a sense of humour bypass, so I’ll get by.’
Lou saw just in time the pitfall in telling him in a dignified way that there was nothing wrong with her sense of humour.
She said coldly, ‘Perhaps we could go now, please. The sooner we begin this nauseating charade, the sooner it will be over.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Alex said drily. ‘But I catch your drift.’
His fingers clasped her arm lightly as they walked to the door.
‘It’s a statement,’ Lou whispered silently, forcing herself not to flinch. ‘Only a statement…’
And halted as she found their exit suddenly blocked.
‘Why, Alex, darling.’ The woman confronting them was beautiful, her vibrant red hair expertly layered, and the deep blue eyes fringed by impossibly long lashes.
She was wearing a knee-length black dress which hugged her spectacular figure, topped by a jacket in exaggeratedly large checks of black and white.
There were black onyx studs surrounded by pearls in her ears, and a matching pendant at her throat.
And the voice that issued from the smiling red lips was throaty and undeniably sexy. ‘How utterly lovely to see you.’
‘Lucinda,’ Alex responded with cool civility. ‘What a surprise to find you here.’
She laughed. ‘Hardly, darling. This has always been one of my favourite places. And I rather fancied a trip down memory lane.’
‘By yourself?’
‘Of course not. Peter’s parking the car. He’s bribing me with lunch before we visit his elderly aunt. Practically gaga, but loaded.’ A shrug. ‘You know how it is.’
She turned her gaze to Louise, who found herself assessed and dismissed in one lightning glance. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?’
‘To my fiancée, actually,’ Alex drawled. ‘Louise—this is Lucinda Crosby. Lucinda, I’d like you to meet Louise Trentham, who has just promised to become my wife.’
‘Well,’ Lucinda said softly, her eyes narrowing. ‘How very surprising—and marvellous for you both, of course. And I thought…’ She broke off artistically with a little laugh. ‘My best wishes—and congratulations, especially to you, Alex, darling. I hope you’ll be blissfully happy together.’
‘I’m sure we shall.’ Alex’s arm slid round Lou’s shoulders, and remained there. She felt herself quietly drawn against him, and fought the immediate impulse to resist.
Just another statement, she told herself. But this time she had the impression that it mattered.
It occurred to her at the same time that this was the closest she had ever been to him physically. That this was the kind of contact she would have to accustom herself to. And that it was never going to be easy.
The arm that held her was strong. The shoulder she leaned against was hard with muscle. She could smell the faint drift of some cologne he was wearing and feel the heat of his body through the layers of his clothing.
And in one blinding flash of revelation she knew exactly what the warmth—the scent of him would be like if he was naked and she was in his arms, naked too.
She felt the shock of that certainty deep in her bones—in the sudden surge of her blood. She felt the fine hairs rise along her spine, and her nipples harden helplessly against the thin wool of her sweater.
And thought, This is impossible. This cannot be happening to me.
Dazed, and trying desperately to hang on to her composure, she heard Lucinda say, ‘But you’re not rushing off, surely. You must wait for Peter, and then we can all have a drink together—to celebrate.’
‘It’s a kind thought,’ Alex said smoothly. ‘But perhaps some other time. We really have to go. We’re getting married very soon, and we need to make a start on the arrangements. I’m sure you understand.’
‘Of course.’ Lucinda’s smile widened. ‘I shall be able to tell Peter all about your charming bride-to-be over lunch. I’m sure he’ll be delighted for you.’ She turned to Lou. ‘Goodbye, my dear—Laura, is it?’
‘Louise,’ Lou supplied woodenly.
‘Of course—and I’m Cindy. I know we’re going to be great friends. Be sure and invite me to the wedding.’
Hell, Lou thought, smiling politely, will freeze over first—on both counts.
As they crossed the foyer to the reception desk, she was aware of the other woman’s gaze boring into her back. She waited quietly while Alex paid the bill, getting herself back under control with a rigorous act of will, subduing her flurried breathing and the scamper of her pulses.
She could find no excuse or explanation for that totally animal reaction, and she was ashamed that she could be so easily beguiled. But it was one thing to recognise that Alex Fabian possessed a powerful sexuality. She’d known that since their first encounter. It was a different thing to find herself exposed to it—and at the mercy of her senses—when he hadn’t even been trying.
Heaven help me if he ever did try, she thought, her mouth suddenly dry. Dear God, I shall have to be so very careful.
‘Peter Crosby,’ she said as they went out to the car. ‘Isn’t he in the government?’
‘Yes.’ His tone did not invite further enquiries.
Nor did she really need to ask. But something—some small, strange pain deep inside her—drove her on.
She said, ‘Living in the country does not make me stupid, Alex.’
‘I hope it doesn’t make you over-curious about things that don’t concern you either,’ he returned curtly.
‘No,’ she said. ‘You can live your life exactly as you wish. I can put that in the contract, too, if you like.’
‘That,’ he said, ‘will not be necessary. And that particular episode is in the past, anyway.’
That’s not what she thinks, Lou thought.
Aloud, she said, ‘She met you with Ellie, didn’t she?’
‘She’s met me with a lot of people.’
‘And she meant me to know, didn’t she? That you’d stayed here together?’
‘God knows,’ he said. ‘Possibly. Probably. I never figured out how Lucinda’s mind worked.’
‘But then,’ she said, ‘I don’t suppose her mind was ever her chief attraction.’
‘Ouch.’ He sounded amused. ‘You have sharp claws, country mouse.’
And I suspect I’m going to need them, Lou thought as they drove off.
It was a quiet journey. Alex found a classical channel on the radio, and she lay back, eyes closed, letting the music wash over her, deliberately making her mind a blank.
She did not want to contemplate what lay ahead of her in London. She did not want to think about the choice she had made, or the risks she was taking. And how serious those risks were had become only too apparent in the past hour.
The past was too painful to remember. The future was a leap in the dark. It was better to let herself drift. She might even have dozed a little.
But Alex’s voice telling her quietly that they were coming into London brought her sharply back to full awareness of the difficult present.
She struggled to sit upright, pushing her hair back from her face, hoping that her mouth hadn’t dropped open, or that she hadn’t—oh, God—been snoring.
She cleared her throat. ‘I—I’ve just realised that I’ve no idea where I’m being taken. A hotel, I suppose.’
He said, ‘We’re going to my flat.’
‘Oh?’ She stiffened. ‘Why?’
‘Because we have a lot to talk about,’ he said. ‘And being under the same roof makes conversation easier, somehow.’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I—I see that. It’s just that I didn’t expect to move in with you before—the marriage.’
‘For God’s sake.’ He was half amused, half exasperated. ‘I’m not asking you to share a bedsit. There are two bedrooms in the damned place, and the doors lock.’
He paused. ‘And it’s the norm for lovers to live together. It might be found extraordinary if we didn’t.’
She swallowed. ‘We are not—lovers.’
‘In the eyes of the world we are. So carried away by our feelings, in fact, that we can’t wait to tie the knot. You might care to remind yourself of that from time to time,’ he added sardonically. ‘It could add depth to your performance.’
‘Did you take Ellie there?’ She couldn’t remember it ever being mentioned.
‘I hardly had the opportunity,’ Alex drawled. ‘No sooner had she agreed to marry me than she was disappearing over the horizon. But I planned to show her the place—ask if she was prepared to live there. After all, she might have hated it.’
Lou lifted her chin. ‘And I might too.’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘And if so, you must tell me, and we’ll start house-hunting. Find something that will suit you better.’
She gasped. ‘You mean you’d be prepared to give up your home for this—non-relationship?’
‘Firstly,’ he said, ‘it’s not my home in any real sense. It’s just a flat. The only place I care for, as I’ve made clear, is Rosshampton. Which is why we’re involved in this “non-relationship”, as you so eloquently describe it.
‘Secondly, you’re doing me an immense favour,’ he added levelly. ‘And the least I can do in return is make sure that you’re as happy as I can make you, which includes your immediate surroundings.’
‘Well,’ Lou said awkwardly, ‘thank you—I think.’
‘I have to tell you,’ he said, ‘that after your stepsister’s wide-eyed compliance with everything I said and did, you come as something of a shock to the system, Miss Louise Trentham.’
She hunched a shoulder. ‘Don’t despair, Mr Fabian. I may dwindle into compliance myself, given time, and the gratification of my every wish. And Ellie wasn’t the pushover you thought, either.’
‘I stand corrected,’ he said, the ghost of a laugh in his voice.
She hated it when he did that, because it made her want to smile back at him.
‘So what else does this flat have besides its two bedrooms with the lockable doors?’ She made herself sound brisk and businesslike.
‘Two bathrooms, a dining room, and a drawing room with a balcony which leads up to a private roof garden, where you can sunbathe in the nude if you wish.’
‘I don’t,’ Lou said coldly. ‘But I gather that makes your flat the penthouse. I suppose I should have guessed.’
‘You make me feel as if I’ve failed some basic test.’ The amusement in his tone deepened. ‘Besides, someone has to live up there, and I thought the garden might actually appeal to you. It has some nice tubs and things.’
‘Sent round from Harrods each spring, no doubt,’ Lou said. ‘I can’t see you up to your elbows in compost.’ She paused. ‘You didn’t mention a kitchen.’
‘There is one,’ he said. ‘I’m almost sure I’ve seen it.’
‘But it doesn’t get much use.’
‘The kettle works,’ he said. ‘And the microwave. And I have an excellent corkscrew.’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘what more could one want?’
‘But then,’ he said, gently, ‘you’d hardly expect me to spend my leisure hours grinding up pesto, or perfecting my soufflé.’
Lou found she did not want to consider how Alex Fabian might occupy his leisure. She said rather hurriedly, ‘Do you have a housekeeper?’
‘No, because the flat is fully serviced. The maid comes in every day, and laundry and dry-cleaning is back in twenty-four hours. There’s a gym, sauna and swimming pool in the basement, underground parking, and a good restaurant on the first floor, which also delivers.’ Alex sent her a lightning glance. ‘Am I selling you the idea?’
‘It sounds quite attractive,’ she admitted sedately.
‘You overwhelm me.’
‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘I don’t aspire to that.’ She considered. ‘I think I’m going to aim to be unobtrusive. If I move into the kitchen, we’ll probably never meet at all.’
‘Let’s cling to that thought.’ He spoke cordially, but there was an odd note in his voice, almost like suppressed anger.
And that, thought Lou, was ridiculous.
Part of her wanted to hate the flat, but she couldn’t. It was too spacious, and the views from its windows too spectacular. It had soft carpets, subdued light
ing and furniture to sink into.
But it certainly wasn’t a home. Alex had been right about that. It looked as if it had been tastefully assembled by a good designer, she thought, looking round her, but there were no personal touches. Nothing to give a clue to the character of the owner. Even the flower arrangement in the hall looked as if it was too correct to shed a petal.
‘What do you think?’ Alex propped himself in the doorway of the drawing room, watching her move round.
‘You don’t spend much time here, do you?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d find that a point in its favour. But can you bear to live in it?’
She bit her lip. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘As far as the situation itself is bearable.
‘Then perhaps you’d like to come and look at the bedrooms. Decide which one you want.’ He paused. ‘At present, I’m using the master bedroom myself, but if that’s the one you’d prefer I’ll move out. It’s not a problem.’
‘No,’ Lou said hastily. Even if he moved to another planet, it would still be his bed she was using, and the mere thought made her throat tighten. ‘The other one will be fine,’ she added with an attempt at lightness. ‘It’s not important, after all. Just a place to sleep in.’
‘As you say,’ Alex agreed rather too gravely. ‘So shall we just toss a coin?’
‘No.’ She smiled resolutely. ‘There’s no need. I’ll have the spare bedroom.’
‘Very well.’ He picked up her bag, and started down the passage. He threw open a door, then stood aside to allow her to precede him.
It was a large room, with tall windows hung with long cream curtains. The tailored bedspread on the wide bed was cream also, and the carpet was a soft blue.
‘The bathroom’s there.’ Alex pointed. ‘And the door next to it is the dressing room, although it’s more of a walk-in closet.’ He looked around him, grimacing slightly. ‘It’s very much a guest room, isn’t it? I hadn’t realised.’
‘Well,’ Lou said, ‘I’m a guest.’
‘Look,’ he said, ‘do whatever you like with it. Have it redecorated—change the furniture—anything you want.’
‘There’s really no need,’ she said. ‘I shan’t be staying that long.’