That he’d desired her too had not been in question. He’d stirred instantly against her, making her want him even more, and, briefly, he’d reached out his hand to stroke her breast. But then, with a sigh, he’d closed the front of her robe and, kissing her, had asked her, ‘Do you want to wear me out? I really don’t think I’ve got the strength.’
‘From where I’m sitting, I’d disagree.’
Georgia had smiled and kissed him back, but she hadn’t insisted or tried to change his mind. And though she’d wondered if she should feel spurned somehow she hadn’t. The way he’d taken her in his arms and held her against him had made her feel anything but rejected. On the contrary, what she’d been aware of was the strength of his affection. She’d felt it flow into her and wrap itself warmly round her heart.
She felt the same thing now, in spite of that strange kiss. They were bound by far more than just physical passion. Something very special had happened between them.
She glanced up at him. ‘It’s probably best if you take me back into town, then. I can easily amuse myself for the rest of the day.’ This was Paris, after all. There was no lack of things to do, though whatever she did wasn’t going to be much fun without him.
‘Actually, I don’t know if there’s really much point in you hanging around.’ He was still holding her hand, but a little less tightly now. ‘I’m probably going to be pretty well tied up tomorrow, too, and, as far as tracking down your missing clothes is concerned, I reckon I can sort that out on my own now.’
He paused. ‘I really think you may as well go back to England.’
‘I see.’
It was the only thing Georgia could think of to say. Something had faltered inside her at the suddenly cool edge to his voice and the strange look in his eyes that was quite impossible to fathom. If it hadn’t been for the way he was still holding her hand, she’d almost have felt she was looking at a stranger.
She shook the feeling off. She was just being oversensitive. This unexpected crisis that he suddenly had to deal with was clearly pretty serious if it was going to take up his entire weekend. It was hardly surprising if he was acting a little preoccupied and detached, and it was silly and immature of her to take offence at his suggestion that she cut short her stay and go back to England.
If her presence wasn’t needed any more to find the clothes and he was going to be too busy to be able to spend time with her, the only sensible thing for her to do was go home.
She took a deep breath, feeling a great deal better for having sorted that out in her mind. ‘You’re right. I’ll phone up and find out when I can get a flight.’
In fact, Jean-Claude phoned for her. ‘There’s one just before nine,’ he told her. ‘It’s the only one we’re going to be able to get you on tonight.’
‘Perfect. Go ahead and book it. It means I’ll get into London at a decent hour and I can catch the train to Bath and be back home before midnight if I’m lucky.’
As he turned to speak into the phone again, Georgia watched him, her heart tight. When was she going to see him again? Up until now, he hadn’t said. But surely he wouldn’t let her leave without saying something?
He was laying the phone down. ‘I think we should head back into town now.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I have an appointment in an hour’s time.’
Then he paused and reached out to touch her hair with his fingers. ‘Georgia,’ he said, ‘you’re a very special girl.’ For a moment he frowned, the blue eyes roaming her face, his expression intense, as though he was about to say something.
But then he appeared to change his mind. That intense look abruptly vanished. ‘I think you’d better go and pack,’ he said, dropping his hand away.
It took Georgia only a few minutes to throw her things into her holdall. As she pulled the zip shut, she paused for a moment to glance around her at the sumptuous blue and gold room. She would never forget this room. She’d known the sweetest moments of her life here. It was here that she’d discovered passion. It was here she’d realised she was in love.
She smiled as a helpless wave of tender emotion poured through her. Dear room. I hope to see you again soon, she said silently.
They drove back into town virtually in silence. Jean-Claude appeared to be very much lost in his own thoughts and Georgia could think of nothing to say. One question obsessed her. What was going to happen now? Yet she was determined not to ask it. It was for him to say.
They were heading towards the Champs Elysées when he turned to her suddenly.
‘I suggest we drop your bag at the flat, then you can go off and do whatever you choose.’ As she swivelled round to look at him, his eyes flicked back to the road. ‘If we meet back at the flat about seven or so, that ought to give us plenty of time.’ He paused for an instant, then turned to meet her eyes again. ‘I want to take you to the airport myself.’
Something crashed inside her. A huge wave of relief. Her worst fear had been that he’d just say goodbye there and then, and she really didn’t think she could have borne that.
But some deep, perverse instinct made her respond, ‘You don’t have to do that. I mean, if you’re busy... I can perfectly easily take a taxi.’
It was her pride speaking, she knew that. She couldn’t just say ‘OK’. She couldn’t let him know she was almost fainting with relief. But, as she waited for his response, she was holding her breath, absolutely terrified he might accept her stupid protest.
But when had he ever accepted her protests?
‘Don’t worry about that. I can fit it in. I’ve got a dinner appointment at nine, but I can get back in time for that. And anyway,’ he added, his tone reassuringly firm and final, ‘I’m afraid I wouldn’t dream of letting you take a taxi.’
Georgia felt about twenty pounds lighter. When he saw her off at the airport, he’d talk about the future, tell her when she’d see him again, all the things she needed to know. She’d been getting herself in a twist for nothing!
They stopped outside the flat. ‘I’ll take your bag up, if you like. I have to go up anyway. I have to make a phone call.’ He smiled. ‘There’s no need for you to come up too.’
‘OK.’ She smiled back at him. ‘I’ll go off and do some window-shopping. I hope you have a good day and I’ll see you back here about seven.’
On an impulse, she leaned towards him, about to kiss him goodbye, but in the very same instant he was turning away, pushing his door open, about to step out onto the pavement. It looked as though he hadn’t even noticed her gesture.
Georgia stifled a quick, sharp squeeze of rejection. Don’t be silly, she told herself. He’s just got a lot on his mind right now. This evening, with any luck, he’ll be feeling a bit better.
There could surely be nothing easier than passing a day window-shopping in Paris? The shops were exquisite, full of marvels to feast your eyes on, and, if you got bored with the shops, you could always watch the people. There were few people more worth watching than the chic Parisians, she’d always thought
But today Georgia couldn’t quite get into the mood. Somehow, the shop windows she stood determinedly staring into just didn’t give her any pleasure at all. All she could see were piles of stuff she couldn’t af ford. And as for the people jostling on the pavements all around her, they really might as well not have been there at all. She barely gave them even a glance. They were just strangers, nothing else.
She had a late lunch in a small bistro near Notre Dame, including a half-bottle of wine to try and jolly up her mood. But it had virtually no effect. She felt tense and strangely alien, full of thoughts she dared not think and fears she dared not even put a name to. Until this evening, when Jean-Claude would finally put her mind at rest, she really wasn’t fit for anything.
After lunch, she set out gamely on another bout of window-shopping, even stopped by to look at a couple of churches. But just after half past five she decided she’d had enough. One more shop window and she’d go crazy. It would be much more sensible just to go back
to the flat and wait for him.
She walked back and the quick trek made her feel better. Of course, he probably wouldn’t be there, but she’d simply wait for him down in the hall. Or maybe, if the doorman recognised her, she might be able to persuade him to let her into the flat. But either way it didn’t really matter. There was only just over an hour till seven o’clock and waiting for Jean-Claude was something she’d already had plenty of practice at!
There was a newspaper stall just across from his flat, right beside the pedestrian crossing. As she reached it, Georgia paused to see if it had any English papers. While she was waiting, she might as well catch up on the rest of the world’s news!
She was just about to choose one when, as though informed by some sixth sense, she raised her eyes to glance across the busy street and felt her heart leap to her throat as she caught sight of Jean-Claude.
He was stepping through the big main door of his block of flats, talking to a man in a wide-brimmed hat. Presumably some business associate he’d been entertaining. As she watched him, her heart swelled with an overpowering rush of love. No wonder she was feeling edgy. Having to leave him was going to be awful.
Forgetting her newspaper, she stepped to the edge of the pedestrian crossing. Was he about to go off somewhere with this man in the hat? As soon as the lights changed, she’d nip across quickly and ask him if she could wait in the flat till he got back.
But no. He was bidding the man in the hat goodbye, turning away and hurrying up the steps to his front door again. Marvellous! It looked as though he’d fin ished his business early and she was about to have him all to herself for a while!
The lights were about to change and Georgia was poised to dash across. But it was at that precise moment, just as the traffic stopped, that the man Jean-Claude had been speaking to suddenly caught her eye again as he raised his head and looked skywards for a moment. Her heart stalled in her chest. Now she could see who he was.
As though paralysed, she just stood there as the other pedestrians on the pavement began to stream past her, hurrying across the road. Surely this couldn’t be true? All at once, she felt quite faint.
But there was no doubt about it. The man she was looking at was Duval.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FORTUNATELY Duval hadn’t seen her. As Georgia stood there, transfixed, staring across the road at him in a state of horrified disbelief, he turned away in the opposite direction. A moment later, he hailed a cab and disappeared inside. As the cab sped off, Georgia still hadn’t moved.
She felt sick to her soul. Had Jean-Claude lied to her, after all? He’d told her he no longer had any dealings with Duval. That their association had been in the past. That he was now simply Duval’s enemy. He’d said there was no way he’d want to meet him face to face.
Yet now she’d just seen the two of them leave his block of flats. And they hadn’t looked like enemies. That wasn’t the impression she’d got at. all. They’d looked as though they’d been doing business together.
A million thoughts rushed through her head. What was going on? Was Jean-Claude in some way tied up with Duval, after all?
He’d never really told her what kind of business he was in. In fact, if she thought back to a couple of incidents, he’d actually been quite careful to keep her in the dark. She remembered in particular that time at his flat when she’d walked in on him in his study while he was on the phone and, plainly believing she’d been eavesdropping, he’d rather hurriedly hung up. He’d also, she recalled, cleared his desk while she’d been gone. Why would he do that, unless he had something to hide?
Breathing slowly, she closed her eyes. It was a nightmare just to think such things. But now, after what she’d just seen, how could she think anything else?
‘Est-ce que vous aliez bien, mademoiselle?’
A hand on her arm. With a start, Georgia turned round to see a kindly, middle-aged face peering at her in concern.
‘Allez-vous bien, mademoiselle?’ the woman said again.
She was asking if she was OK. Georgia forced a shaky smile. ‘Oui, je vais bien, merci.’ Inwardly, she gave herself a shake. Clearly, she was looking every bit as stunned as she was feeling. And little wonder. She felt as though all her blood had drained away.
While she’d been standing there, the pedestrian lights had turned back to red, but now they were switching once more to green and people were start ing to cross the road. With a quick, grateful nod at the woman who’d spoken to her, Georgia stepped from the pavement, feeling a bit like an automaton, and walked quickly across to the other side.
Once there, she stopped. What should she do now? One part of her felt like jumping into a cab and fleeing to the airport right away. To hell with her holdall that was up in his flat. He could send it on to her or she could simply forget it.
It was a tempting solution. The thought of facing him appalled her. What if all her terrible suspicions were true? But already her feet were heading for the front door, climbing the stone steps and taking her into the hallway. There could, after all, be a perfectly innocent explanation. And, whatever the truth might be, she simply had to know.
The porter recognised her and just nodded as she strode towards the lift. Then she was stepping inside and pressing the button for the top floor, only half aware that she was holding her breath as the lift began its soundless ascent.
By the time she breathed out again, the lift had reached the top floor. The doors opened with a swish and Georgia stepped out, her legs feeling like putty beneath her. Then she was crossing the silent carpet to stand at his front door. Taking a deep breath, she jammed her finger against the bell.
It was as though he’d been waiting for her. The door opened at once and suddenly she was looking into his face. Her heart slammed against her ribs. A rush of love and pain filled her. Just for an instant, she very nearly turned and fled.
‘Georgia!’
His face seemed about to break into a smile, then, seeing her grim expression, he immediately sobered.
‘Quest-ce qu-il y a? What’s the matter? What’s happened?’ He reached out and took her arm, about to draw her inside.
‘No!’
Georgia was struggling with all her strength to remain calm, but how could she possibly think straight if he held onto her like that? She pulled her arm free and stepped quickly past him into the hall.
‘I need some explanations. I just saw you with Duval.’
As she turned to face him again, he frowned. Was he about to deny it? she wondered. At the thought that he might, her stomach twisted with dismay and she found herself pouring out the thing she feared most. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been working for that man all along?’
All she really wanted was to hear him say no. But he didn’t say no. He snatched a quick, impatient breath. ‘I think we’d better go through to the sitting room,’ he snapped. Then he turned away sharply and headed across the marble tiles.
Georgia followed, though it was a struggle to make her legs obey her. If before they’d felt like putty, they felt like marshmallow now. Any minute, they’d give way and she’d fall in a heap to the floor.
‘Take a seat while I make a phone call.’
As he crossed swiftly to the phone, Georgia watched him with dark, resentful eyes. Why couldn’t he just answer her, and how dared he tell her what to do? She’d be damned if she’d just obediently do as he said. Swaying slightly, she remained standing precisely where she was.
He was cancelling an appointment. He’d clearly been on his way out again. Good. She was glad she’d upset his plans.
‘I’m going to have a whisky. I think that’s the very least that’s called for.’ As he laid down the phone, he glanced at her over his shoulder. ‘I reckon I ought to pour one for you as well.’
‘I don’t drink whisky. I already told you that. Some time ago, if you care to cast your mind back.’
Still fighting to remain upright, Georgia fixed him with a black look as he crossed to the drinks cabinet and
splashed whisky into two tumblers. This was just like that time when she’d confronted him in his hotel. Only this time he might not find it so easy to talk her round.
A glass in each hand, he was walking towards her. If he tries to force that whisky on me, I’ll throw it in his face, she thought. But as though he’d read her mind, he paused by one of the low coffee tables and carefully put down the two tumblers. Then, before she could react, he’d taken hold of her with both hands and was propelling her into one of the armchairs behind her.
‘You’re making me dizzy,’ he ground out, ‘the way you’re standing there swaying like a ship’s mast in a force-ten gale. For heaven’s sake, take a seat and relax.’
The touch of him, the warmth of his fingers against her arm, the heartbreaking nearness of that familiar, virile body, just for a moment, very nearly unhinged her. She felt the tears rush to her eyes. She loved him with every inch of her. To discover that he’d lied to her would be more than she could bear.
She’d forced the tears away and was fighting to stay calm again by the time he released her and sat down in the armchair opposite, though she definitely didn’t trust herself to speak yet. Breathing carefully, she watched him reach for his whisky, take a long, slow mouthful and set the glass down again.
‘So,’ he said in a calm tone, ‘you saw me with Duval?’
‘Yes. I saw the two of you coming out of the main front door.’
She felt a quick twist of hope. He wasn’t denying it, after all. Then she felt a numbing shaft of fear. He still hadn’t explained anything.
‘It’s just as well,’ she added tightly, ‘I didn’t come along ten minutes earlier. I might have caught the two of you together right in this very room.’
‘No, you wouldn’t have done that.’ There was an edge to his tone now. ‘Duval was not in my home. Not today, not ever.’
‘But I saw him leave.’
‘You saw him leave the building. When I got home about fifteen minutes ago, I found him waiting for me in the downstairs hall. I spent only as much time with him as it took to persuade him to leave.’
Waiting for Mr. Wonderful! Page 12