She heard the shower switch off, and jumped up from the bed. What on earth ought she to do now? Flee while she still had the chance? It was tempting, but it would be a pretty silly thing to do at this stage. No, the only course of action was to stay right where she was and try to act as cool as him. For one thing, it was rather necessary that she explain what she was doing here, for heaven knew what must be going through his head!
Shoulders squared and quickly smoothing the rumpled skirt of her cerise wool suit, she turned to face the bathroom door just as Lasalle came walking through it.
‘So, you’re awake?’ He was wearing nothing but a white towel around his hips. He smiled with amusement into her carefully composed face. ‘I hope I didn’t disturb you. I tried to be as quiet as I could.’
Very funny. So, he was planning to play this for laughs at her expense? Well, at least he was being civilised. It could have been worse.
Georgia smiled an ironic smile. ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised, struggling to keep her eyes on his face as she spoke, though the temptation to examine the bronzed, muscular body, with its broad, powerful shoulders and taut, flat stomach, was very nearly irresistible. ‘I didn’t mean to fall asleep. But the room was so hot. I must have dozed off.’
‘You certainly must have. But don’t worry about it. You made an extremely charming, if unexpected, picture curled up there on the bed when I walked in.’
‘I only sat on the bed because the chair was so uncomfortable.’ She cast a quick, accusing glance at the low-backed chair in question and saw to her dismay that it was now draped with his clothes. Good grief. He must have undressed right here in the room in front of her. Thank heavens she hadn’t wakened in the middle of that!
‘I only meant,’ she added lamely, ‘to sit down for a minute.’
Inwardly, she was cringing at the grossness of her faux pas. Tired of pacing about the room, she’d gone to sit on the end of the bed, then, just to be more comfortable, had stretched out for a moment, certain she had the will-power not to fall asleep. She’d fully intended being on her feet when he finally came walking through the door! But she’d blown it. What an absolute idiot she’d been!
Not that Lasalle appeared even the least bit put out. Perhaps finding young females asleep on his bed was something that happened to him every day of the week. He hadn’t even bothered to ask how she’d got in!
Which was another thing. Why on earth had she come into his room in the first place? She must have been crazy, though it had seemed harmless at the time. Talk about walking into the lion’s den!
She watched as he switched on the pair of bedside lamps, her eyes lingering in spite of herself on the smooth, muscular back that rippled deliciously with every sinuous movement. Earlier today, she’d decided that Jean-Claude Lasalle was the most ravishing man she’d ever set eyes on in her life and nothing she was seeing now was causing her to revise that opinion. He really was a perfectly glorious specimen.
But hang on, she hadn’t come here to admire him, and it was actually the last thing she ought to be doing! That could lead to all sorts of trouble!
She cleared her throat as he turned to look at her again. ‘I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here...’ Before he could deny that—for he’d no doubt already come to his own conclusions!—she hurried on, carefully ignoring the amused glint in the blue eyes. ‘Well, I came here to apologise. For turning you away earlier without hearing what it was that you wanted to tell me.’ She smiled a contrite smile. ‘I was rude and I’m really sorry.’
As she paused, she was hoping she’d sounded convincing, for she hadn’t quite struck the note she’d intended. She’d been planning to plead a little and appeal to his male vanity, but, standing here in his bedroom with him dressed in just a towel, that hadn’t quite seemed the most appropriate thing to do.
She smiled again. ‘I made a mistake and I hope you can forgive me. I’d really like to hear what it was you came to tell me.’
Lasalle said nothing for a moment. He let his eyes scan her face in that intensely probing way he had. Then, abruptly, his gaze dropped down to scan the slim, cerise wool suit. ‘Why don’t you take something off?’ he said. ‘You must be incredibly hot.’
Take something off? So, that was what was on his mind! He probably hadn’t been listening to a single word she’d said!
Georgia regarded him calmly. ‘Actually, I’m not hot at all.’ It wasn’t true, of course, but that was scarcely the point! ‘I’m perfectly comfortable as I am, thank you very much.’
‘If you say so...but don’t tell me you plan on sleeping like that?’ His tone was amused. ‘Surely that would be a little uncomfortable?’ As he spoke, he casually tossed back the quilted bedcover. ‘Personally, I prefer to sleep with nothing on at all—at least, when I’m expecting female company.’
In vain, Georgia fought the vision that rushed up before her eyes. Him lying on the bed in perfect naked glory, one hand held out towards her, inviting her to join him.
That was quite bad enough, but what was twenty times worse was the shameless way she found herself reacting to this vision. She felt a thrust of pure longing, a wicked shiver down her spine.
Shame on you, Georgia. She squashed the feelings instantly and hurried to correct his total misreading of the situation.
‘Hang on a minute. You’ve got something terribly wrong here.’ Only half-conscious of what she was doing, she folded her arms like a barrier across her chest. ‘I came here to speak to you. I didn’t say anything about sleeping. I simply came to hear what it was you wanted to tell me.’
‘At this hour? At midnight?’
‘It wasn’t midnight when I arrived.’
‘Nevertheless, it’s midnight now.’ One black eyebrow lifted sceptically. ‘Do you really, seriously expect me to believe that you were waiting in my room at midnight in order to talk?’
‘Yes, I do, as a matter of fact.’ Georgia flashed him an angry look. ‘I’m afraid you’re deluding yourself if you think I came for anything else.’
As she spoke, she had to concentrate on keeping her eyes from the bed, which seemed suddenly to have grown to fill the entire room, not to mention having sprouted a set of bright red flashing lights.
‘I’ve been waiting for you for hours. Ask the receptionist downstairs. I’ve been here at the hotel since just after half past seven.’
‘My, you must have been keen.’
‘Yes, but not for what you think. The only reason I came at all and waited till now is because you told me you were leaving Bath tomorrow morning and that what you had to tell me was important and urgent. No other reason,’ she emphasized, fixing him with a hard look.
While she’d been reeling off this defence, Lasalle had seated himself on the bed.
‘What a shame.’ The blue eyes danced beneath their scandalously long lashes. ‘So what, may I ask, brought about this sudden change of mind?’
‘I realised I’d been too hasty.’ She tried a persuasive smile. ‘Look, I really am sorry for the way I acted earlier and I seriously do want to hear what you have to say.’
‘I’ve no doubt you do.’ He was slipping off his gold watch and laying it down on the bedside table. ‘Trouble is, it’s a bit late for serious discussions now.’
‘I know, and I apologize.’ She tried another persuasive smile. ‘Couldn’t you just tell me whatever it is very quickly?’
‘I’m afraid not.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s been a long day and I’m tired. The only thing on my agenda right now is bed.’
‘So, what are we going to do? You’re leaving tomorrow.’
‘You’re right. I am. So I guess that’s it.’ He sighed and paused a moment before adding, ‘Unless, of course, you feel like spending the night here. I suppose it’s always possible that we might manage to fit in a few minutes of serious discussion in the course of the night.’
Georgia was aware of a frosty look descending on her face. ‘I’m afraid that solution doesn’t appeal to me in the slight
est.’ She glared at him for a moment, then carefully softened her expression. Somehow, she had to get round him and pin him down on her terms.
‘What about tomorrow morning? I could come here to the hotel early. We could fit in a few minutes before you leave.’ .
He was shaking his head again. ‘I’ll be leaving very early. And I’m not really a morning person. More of a night owl. Early-morning meetings aren’t my thing.’
‘But this is important!’ Georgia glared at him again. He was enjoying this, making her pay for turning him away earlier. She could see the amusement flickering across his face. ‘What am I going to do if you refuse to help me?’
‘I’m not refusing to help you. I told you...stay the night.’
This was impossible. ‘I’m not staying the night. What do you think I am? You’ve got a damned cheek!’
‘OK. It seems to me that’s the end of the discussion. If you’re not staying, I’m going to get some sleep now.’
And before she had a chance to close her eyes or turn away he was loosening the towel at his waist and tossing it to the floor. A moment later, in one smooth movement, he had slipped between the sheets.
Georgia’s cheeks had turned the same bright colour as her suit. Damned exhibitionist! He’d done that on purpose. But if he’d been trying to embarrass her into just turning around and leaving he was about to discover that she didn’t embarrass quite that easily!
She fixed him with a defiant look. ‘There must be some way round this. We could speak on the phone, for example. Give me your number and I’ll ring you.’
He was leaning back against the pillows, his hair very black against the white linen. He smiled at her. ‘I can see you’re reluctant to leave. So, why not just slip off your things and join me in here?’
She was getting nowhere. She was beaten. Angrily, Georgia turned away. ‘Don’t kid yourself. I’m not in the least reluctant to leave. I’m just sorry I made the mistake of coming in the first place.’ She stomped off towards the door. ‘Good night and goodbye.’
He made no answer, but she could feel the blue eyes following her. Then, as she snatched the door open and was about to step out into the corridor, he said, ‘If you still want to hear what I have to say, come to the hotel tomorrow afternoon about five.’
‘I thought you were leaving tomorrow morning...?’
Frowning, she turned to face him. But, at that precise moment, he switched off the bedside lights.
The sudden darkness blinded her, in spite of the faint light from the corridor. Georgia blinked and continued to stare unseeingly towards the bed. Had he really meant that invitation? Dared she believe him? She felt totally thrown. What had provoked this abrupt turnaround?
‘Are you still there?’ Suddenly, he spoke again. ‘Look, make up your mind. Either come here and join me or leave, closing the door behind you, and let me get some sleep. I don’t like people hovering about.’
Stifling a curse, Georgia stepped into the corridor and closed the door with a sharp, decisive click.
‘Well, this is what I call interesting! But I’m not really surprised. I knew he was much too gorgeous to be a villain!’
Georgia had told Kay all about her two meetings with Lasalle yesterday, including the ignominious business of her falling asleep on his bed, a scenario that had hugely amused her assistant.
‘What I don’t understand,’ she’d joked, ‘is why you refused to stay the night. A dish like that doesn’t walk into a girl’s life every day.’
There was no arguing with that, but, as Georgia told her now, ‘I’m still not as convinced as you are that he’s actually on the level.’ For, though she intended keeping the appointment at his hotel this afternoon, she still had a few lingering doubts about Jean-Claude Lasalle.
‘I don’t even know who he is, for heaven’s sake. In spite of what he was saying, he could still be one of Duval’s men. I mean, why on earth would someone suddenly show up like that, completely out of the blue, offering to help me? Maybe it’s all just an elaborate scheme to try and trick me. Today could turn out to be a total waste of time.’
‘Never.’ Kay was incorrigible. ‘How could a meeting with a man like that ever turn out to be a total waste of time?’ She fixed Georgia with a narrow look, half joking, half serious. ‘Who knows? This could finally be the Mr Wonderful you’ve been waiting for.’
‘Yes, and pigs might fly.’ At least Georgia was sure about one thing. Jean-Claude Lasalle was a pretty tasty packet of goods, but there was no way in the world he was going to turn out to be Mr Wonderful!
The Mr Wonderful thing was a joke that had grown up between her and Kay—who was her good friend as well as her valued assistant. Kay kept telling her it was time she found herself a man.
‘Work’s not everything,’ she would chide her. ‘You need a love life as well.’
‘You happily married people are all the same,’ Georgia would counter, for Kay had been blissfully married to Eddie for seven and a half years. ‘But I’m not looking for a man. Right now, work suits me fine.’
In a way, it was true. For the past three and a half years, since throwing open the bright blue doors of Georgia D—with only a scarily hefty bank loan and a bucketful of ambition to prop her up—the huge amount of work involved in making the business a success had absorbed a vast chunk of both her time and her emotions. Of course, there’d been men on the scene. But never anyone serious. None of them had ever amounted to more than the occasional pleasant dinner date.
Sometimes, she felt the lack, as she occasionally confessed to Kay, but the plain truth was she simply hadn’t met a man who’d even half tempted her to start getting serious.
‘Your problem is,’ Kay had once observed wisely, ‘that you’re not looking for Mr Right, you’re looking for Mr Wonderful.’ And maybe, Georgia had to confess, she was right.
A man who’ll sweep me off my feet and turn my whole head inside out and fill my life with love and magic and excitement. Passion. Fire. Enchantment. Wonder. I’m crazy, she often told herself, but that really is what I dream of.
And Jean-Claude Lasalle? Well, he would know all about passion. And there was a fire in him, even a little magic, and he was undeniably exciting. But, in spite of all that, he was no Mr Wonderful. Mr Wonderful, above all, would be a one-woman man, and it was as plain as the exceedingly handsome nose on his face that Jean-Claude Lasalle was definitely not that!
So she ignored Kay’s wink as she set off from the shop at four forty-five to keep her appointment. All she wanted from Lasalle was to find out what he knew about Duval and—if she decided he really was genuine—how he proposed to help her fight him.
Less than fifteen minutes later, she was walking up to the hotel reception desk to find herself looking into the beady-eyed face of the same woman who’d been on duty last night. Having witnessed Georgia’s departure from the hotel just after midnight, she must really be wondering what the devil was going on!
So, let her wonder!
‘Georgia Dee for Mr Lasalle,’ Georgia told her, adding with a confident smile, ‘He’s expecting me.’
But her smile instantly died. The woman shook her head. ‘I’m afraid Mr Lasalle isn’t here. He’s gone to London.’
‘London?’ Georgia was aware of her mouth dropping open. ‘London?’ she said again. ‘But we have an appointment!’
‘There’s a message for you, however.’ The woman was turning away to extract a slip of paper from Lasalle’s cubby-hole. ‘He phoned a little while ago to say he’d been held up, but that he’d be here to keep your appointment just as soon as he could.’
‘And how soon will that be? Has he left London? Did he say?’ It was about a three hour drive from London to Bath, though possibly a little less in a Porsche! Just how long was she expected to hang about?
But the receptionist couldn’t help her. ‘He didn’t say how long he’d be.’ She shrugged sympathetically. ‘Men!’ she observed.
Georgia smiled back at that. Maybe she’
d misjudged her, after all. ‘It looks like I have no choice but to wait.’
But as she turned away and went to seat herself on one of the chairs Georgia was biting back her anger. Hanging around waiting for Jean-Claude Lasalle was getting to be a habit she could well do without!
An hour passed.
The receptionist glanced across at her and said, ‘Why don’t you go out and stretch your legs for a bit? If he arrives while you’re gone, I’ll tell him you’re here.’
That sounded like a good idea. Georgia thanked her and went for a walk. Twenty minutes later, full of hope, she returned. But the best news the receptionist could give her was that he’d just phoned again.
‘He was calling from his car phone and I could hardly make out a thing. But he seemed to be saying that he wouldn’t be long.’
Wouldn’t be long. What was that supposed to mean? ‘I’m going out for another walk,’ Georgia informed the woman between clenched teeth. If she was forced to sit about here for another single moment she’d end up eating the carpet in frustration!
With difficulty, she wasted another twenty minutes, but this time as she approached the hotel she knew he’d arrived. A familiar sleek black Porsche was parked arrogantly outside.
Seething, she hurried up the steps to the main door. Then she was sweeping into the lobby, where she spotted him instantly, sitting in an armchair reading a newspaper. As he rose to his feet, tossing the newspaper aside, she advanced on him furiously, anger smouldering from every pore, her glossy dark hair bouncing against her shoulders.
‘So, you’ve finally arrived!’ Her hazel eyes blazed at him. ‘Are you aware that you’re two hours late for our meeting? You asked me to meet you here at five. It’s now nearly seven o’clock!’
If he dared to make a joke of it and say she ought to be used to waiting, she would throttle him right there on the spot with her bare hands!
Perhaps he read that in her face, for he answered in a sober tone, almost managing to sound genuinely apologetic, ‘I’m sorry. I got held up. It really couldn’t be helped. I got here as soon as I could. I can’t apologise enough.’
Waiting for Mr. Wonderful! Page 3