Читать книгу To Marry Mccloud - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 9

‘CHLOE…?’ Fergus finally prompted when she hadn’t responded to the question he had asked her several moments ago. Surely it didn’t take this much thought to know whether or not she wanted to have dinner with him! After all, she had been the one to telephone him.

Which was something he wanted to discuss with her over the dinner he had just suggested they have together later this week…

‘I’m sorry, Fergus.’ She seemed to snap out of some sort of a daze. ‘What did you say?’

Maybe she was just tired, too? After all, she couldn’t have had much sleep last night, either!

‘I asked if you would like to have dinner with me on Friday evening?’ Much as Fergus would like to have seen her before then—if only to ask her several pertinent questions!—he had his mother staying in town for the rest of the week, plus he assumed that Chloe probably worked during the week, and the start of the weekend would be more convenient for her, too.

‘I would love to. Thank you,’ she accepted warmly. ‘Where shall we go?’

‘Bernardo’s?’ It was the fashionable restaurant of the moment, the place where anyone who was anyone went to be ‘seen’. While Fergus wasn’t particularly into such things himself, he thought Chloe was probably still young enough to be.

Not that he had any idea exactly how old she was, but she looked to be in her early twenties. A bit young for him really—but he obviously hadn’t seemed to mind that too much last night!

‘Could we make it somewhere less…showbiz?’ The grimace could be heard in her voice.

‘Chloe Fox, you just went up several notches in my estimation!’ he announced with satisfaction. ‘I hate all that posing too,’ he explained ruefully.

‘Then why suggest we go there?’ She sounded puzzled.

‘I thought you might like it,’ he answered honestly.

‘Thanks—but no, thanks. We could always go to Chef Simon,’ she suggested lightly.

‘No!’ came Fergus’s immediate vehement response.

Although he, Logan and Brice had always been close, Fergus preferred to keep the rest of his family very firmly at bay. His Aunt Meg had recently married Daniel Simon, the owner of Chef Simon, and yesterday Logan had married Daniel’s daughter, Darcy; the last thing Fergus wanted was to turn up at the restaurant with Chloe and find himself at the centre of family speculation about his own private life!

‘Okay,’ Chloe didn’t question the reason for his protest. ‘How about we go to Xander’s instead? It’s—’

‘I know where it is, Chloe,’ he interrupted, knowing exactly where the intimately exclusive restaurant was.

He just wasn’t absolutely sure he liked the way this young lady kept overriding him and taking charge of things! Domineering women were not his favourite thing. He had his mother as a prime example of how destructive they could be. His father had only been able to take it for ten years before walking out on them both!

‘Unless you have somewhere else quiet you would rather go?’ Chloe suggested, redeeming herself slightly in Fergus’s eyes.

But only slightly. Fergus accepted that she was the most exquisitely beautiful creature he had ever seen in his life, that they had spent the night together—obviously!—but that did not mean he altogether trusted her. She knew too much about him for him to feel confident enough to do that.

‘No, Xander’s is fine,’ he confirmed evenly. ‘I’ll book a table for eight-thirty, if that’s okay?’ He was determined to choose the time, if not the place!

‘Fine,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll see you on Friday.’

‘Er—Chloe?’ He stopped her as he sensed she was about to ring off. ‘It’s customary where I come from for a man to call and collect his date for the evening,’ he explained dryly.

‘I thought it might be better if we went in my car. Just in case,’ she added teasingly. ‘I actually don’t drink alcohol, you see.’

‘Neither do I, to excess. Normally,’ Fergus instantly defended; it was impossible to ignore the reference to his inebriated condition of last night, even if the remark had been made jokingly.

‘You explained you were depressed about your cousin’s wedding,’ Chloe sympathised.

Fergus wasn’t sure exactly what he had and hadn’t said, and done, last night. And it wasn’t a feeling he was comfortable with. He was usually so much in control, master of his own destiny, and all that.

‘That was the champagne talking,’ he dismissed harshly. ‘I’m actually very pleased for Logan and Darcy.’ And in retrospect he was. Yesterday’s churlishness had faded. After all, he and his cousins couldn’t have remained the Elusive Three for ever! ‘I would also prefer to pick you up and drive you to the restaurant on Friday evening,’ he said firmly.

‘And I would prefer to meet you there,’ she came back just as decisively.

Fergus grimaced his frustration with her stubbornness. Why didn’t she want him to call at her home for her on Friday? Did she have something to hide? Someone? Just because she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring didn’t mean she wasn’t in a permanent relationship; not everyone bothered to get married nowadays. Although, if that were the case, her partner must be a pretty weak character to have let her stay out all of last night. He certainly wouldn’t be as understanding in the same circumstances!

‘Please yourself,’ he returned flatly. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’m rather cold and wish to return to my bath.’

He was also extremely irritated by this conversation. Something about Chloe Fox—and it wasn’t just her seemingly domineering nature!—really annoyed him. They had spent the night together, gone to bed together, and yet he didn’t feel that he knew her at all.

Well, on Friday evening he intended changing all that!

At least, he would have done—but Chloe had yet to turn up!

By eight-forty-five, he had been sitting in the restaurant for almost fifteen minutes, and there was still no sign of her. He was starting to feel decidedly uncomfortable!

The secluded corner table was set for two people, so it was obvious he was waiting for someone to join him, and he was starting to receive sympathetic looks from the other diners. When—if—Chloe ever did turn up, he was not going to be in the best of moods.

Besides which, he had ordered a bottle of wine while he waited for her, and he knew—to his consternation!—that he had already drunk two glasses of it in his increasing agitation. On an empty stomach too.

But he had been working hard today, and it wasn’t unusual, when he worked, that he forgot to eat. Despite Maud’s efforts to make sure that he was fed!

In fact, apart from spending some time with his mother before she returned to Scotland following the wedding, he had been working hard on research for his next book all week. It had been a way of diverting his attention while he’d waited for Friday evening to arrive!

Because, hard as he had tried, he hadn’t been able to find out a single thing about Chloe Fox!

A few discreet enquiries to his friends and acquaintances hadn’t turned up a single person who had ever heard of Chloe Fox. Directory Enquiries had been unable to help him too, when he had no idea of her address; the telephone book was apparently full of Foxes!

It was almost as if Chloe had appeared from out of nowhere. And, apart from that telephone call to him late on Sunday evening, had disappeared as completely.

He—

Wherever Chloe had disappeared to all week, she had now very definitely reappeared!

And, once again, she took his breath away!

If he had thought her exquisitely beautiful on Saturday night and Sunday morning, that was nothing to the way she looked tonight. And Fergus knew he wasn’t the only one to think so.

Xander’s was a discreetly exclusive restaurant, well accustomed to the rich and the famous coming through its doors. But as Chloe Fox moved gracefully through its crowded midst, the other diners fell silent, stopped eating their delicious food, in order to turn and look at her admiringly.

Her dress was bright scarlet red, Chinese in style, with a small mandarin collar, the silk material fitted to the perfection of her body like a second skin, its above-knee length leaving bare a long expanse of shapely legs. Her hair wasn’t loose tonight but pulled back and secured on the back of her head in a neat chignon, the severeness of the style revealing the full extent of her unusual beauty.

Her skin was as delicate as magnolia, liner giving those deep blue eyes a slightly slanted appearance, her lips painted the same scarlet as her dress. She was, undisputably, the most beautiful woman in the room.

Fergus couldn’t help feeling a certain satisfaction in knowing she was to be his partner for the evening.

He stood up as she approached their table. ‘You look wonderful,’ he told her as he pulled her chair back for her to sit down, his senses at once assailed with the delicacy of the perfume she wore.

Fergus had no idea what the perfume was, but he did know that he would never be able to smell it again without thinking of this woman. For good or bad!

‘Thank you, Fergus.’ She reached up to kiss him lightly on the cheek before sitting down. ‘Isn’t this a wonderful restaurant?’ She looked around them with obvious pleasure.

While Fergus could only look at her!

He was thirty-five years old, had known many beautiful women in those years, quite a lot of them on a very intimate level. But he had never known any woman before who possessed Chloe Fox’s sensually mesmerising beauty.

‘Sorry I’m a little late.’ She smiled at him now, revealing those tiny, even white teeth he remembered from last weekend.

But he couldn’t help feeling slightly irritated when she offered no explanation for her tardiness. After all, he had been sitting here for almost twenty minutes, feeling more and more of an idiot as those minutes had passed.

‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ he offered stiffly.

She smiled ruefully. ‘I really don’t drink,’ she refused with a shake of her head, turning to ask the waiter for some mineral water. ‘Have you had a good week?’ she turned back to enquire of Fergus politely.

His irritation increased. Politeness was fine, in its place, but between Chloe and himself he found it implied a distance that just shouldn’t be there after they had spent the night together last Saturday.

‘Very good,’ he confirmed tersely; he had covered a lot of research towards his next novel this week, should be ready to start writing very soon. ‘How about you?’

‘I’ve kept busy.’ She shrugged.

‘Doing what?’

‘This and that,’ she dismissed, those blue eyes dancing with mirth as she looked across at him beneath lowered lashes.

Fergus couldn’t miss the fact that her mirth was at his expense! This little minx knew exactly what he was doing—and she was just as determined not to be in the least helpful!

Fergus drew in a harsh breath. ‘Chloe—’

‘I’m sorry, Fergus, I shouldn’t tease you.’ She laughed huskily, reaching out to touch his hand briefly in apology. ‘I’m a fashion designer.’

At last, he knew something about her other than her name! Not much, admittedly, but it was a start.

‘Did you design the dress you’re wearing tonight?’ he prompted interestedly.

‘Of course,’ she dismissed, smiling up at the waiter as he brought, and poured, her water.

Of course…

In that case, her designs were excellent; the dress looked wonderful on her, suited her slender delicacy perfectly.

‘Who do you work for?’ he asked lightly, feeling the ice was breaking between them at last. In the circumstances, it shouldn’t have been there in the first place!

Chloe sipped her water before answering. ‘Myself,’ she replied. ‘But what about you, are you—?’

‘You mean you’re a freelance designer?’ Fergus cut determinedly over what he guessed was going to be a deliberate change of subject on Chloe’s part. Away from herself!

‘Not exactly,’ she answered noncommittally. ‘Shall we look at the menus?’ she said with a smile. ‘I’m absolutely starving!’

She was changing the subject, damn it. Although he couldn’t argue with the necessity of choosing their food; he had gone past starving himself and was now onto ravenous!

But if Chloe thought by looking at the menus and choosing their food he was going to let go of the only thing he had actually found out about her so far, then she was mistaken!

Chloe studied him surreptitiously from behind the shield of her menu. He had hidden it well, but she knew he had been absolutely furious when she’d actually arrived here this evening. Not surprising, really; she had been almost twenty minutes late. Deliberately so.

One thing she had learnt about Fergus McCloud in the last few weeks: a simpering sycophant was not going to hold his interest for more than two minutes!

He was a man who had avoided a serious relationship, let alone matrimony, for at least the last fifteen years. Any woman who wanted to hold this man’s interest for more than a couple of dates would have to be unusual, to say the least.

Although Chloe wasn’t sure, as she saw that tightness about his mouth, the angry glitter in those warm brown eyes, that she hadn’t gone too far. The last thing she wanted to happen was for Fergus not to even like her!

Because, strangely enough, she could all too easily like him…

He was interesting. Intelligent. Fun. His good looks unmistakable. And there had been something boyishly attractive, endearingly so, about his protectiveness towards her when his cousin Brice had arrived at the house last Sunday morning and found them there together…

Under any other circumstances, she was sure she would like Fergus McCloud very much indeed.

Again it was ‘under other circumstances’…

She put her menu down on the table, smiling across at Fergus as he looked across at her enquiringly. She was right; he had started to feel wary of her. And that wasn’t the idea at all!

‘Actually, Fergus, I have my own label, sell my clothes to several well-known couturier shops,’ she told him brightly.

‘Very exclusive,’ he guessed.

‘Very,’ she confirmed.

‘And very expensive?’ he drawled.

She laughed again softly. ‘Of course.’

He relaxed slightly, obviously having just been given the answer to several more questions that he had concerning her; how she afforded her sports car and how she was so obviously at ease in these surroundings, to name but two. However, Chloe easily sensed that there were a lot more questions Fergus wanted answers to than those…

‘What’s the label called?’ he prompted casually, putting his own menu down to give her his full attention.

Her mouth quirked. ‘Would you believe, “Foxy”?’ Not much help there!

Fergus gave a rueful smile. ‘I’d believe,’ he acknowledged. ‘How come you and I have never met before, Chloe Fox? That I have never even heard your name mentioned before?’

Because until a year ago she hadn’t lived in London all year round, had been at boarding-school in the south of England for years, before going on to university, and then she had spent a year in Paris with one of the top designers there. And in the last year she had been too busy getting her business off the ground to feature too much on the social scene.

There was also the fact that she hadn’t been a hundred-per-cent honest concerning her name.

She shrugged. ‘Just bad luck, I suppose,’ she answered.

Fergus grinned. ‘Yours or mine?’

‘Both, of course,’ Chloe returned. ‘It would be very rude of me to say anything else.’

‘You don’t like to be rude. And you always try to do what you say you will,’ Fergus murmured thoughtfully.

This man was making an inventory on what he slowly learnt about her! Not a good development.

‘You might also like to know that I like to be fed at least twice a day,’ she went on. ‘And as I only had time for a quick breakfast this morning, and no lunch…’ she added pointedly.

‘You would like to eat now.’ Fergus nodded, signalling to the waiter that they were ready to order.

Chloe studied him while the waiter noted their choices. Fergus’s good looks weren’t in doubt. Nor were his wealth or charm. But she would do well to remember not to underestimate his intelligence; Fergus was more than capable of adding two and two together and coming up with the correct answer of four. Maybe not tonight. But it wouldn’t take too much probing on his part to discover exactly who the designer ‘Foxy’ was.

Telling him about that had been a calculated risk, but one she had deemed necessary in the face of his wariness. She wanted to keep his interest, but she wasn’t going to get anywhere with him at all if she made herself too mysterious. And she still had a long way to go with this man if she were to achieve her objective.

‘So tell me,’ she said conversationally as the two of them enjoyed their starters, melon and strawberries in Chloe’s case, and moules marinière in Fergus’s, ‘why didn’t you want us to eat at your uncle’s restaurant this evening?’

Fergus seemed to almost choke over the mussel he had just spooned into his mouth, looking across at her frowningly.

Chloe eyed him speculatively. ‘Sorry—was I mistaken?’ But she knew she wasn’t, knew Fergus had been horrified at her suggestion that the two of them meet at Chef Simon this evening.

‘Not at all,’ he replied slowly. ‘And the answer is simple, Chloe; I wanted to get to know you without any family distractions.’

There was a word for smooth flattery like this—but Chloe was too ladylike to even think it!

‘How nice,’ she returned as insincerely.

‘I thought so,’ Fergus replied. ‘I’m sure you’ll agree, there’s still a lot we don’t know about each other?’

What he really meant was there was a lot he still didn’t know about her! Although he was obviously hoping to change all that tonight. If Chloe had anything to do with it, he was going to be out of luck!

She smiled across at him. ‘What’s the saying? “Finding out is half the fun”?’

‘Probably,’ he acknowledged dryly, not looking in the least convinced of the sentiment. ‘I—’

‘Chloe! It is Chloe, isn’t it…?’ the voice added less certainly.

Chloe’s air of flirtation immediately deserted her as she looked up and easily recognised the man who had stopped beside their table.

Peter Ambrose!

It wasn’t surprising that, having initially believed he recognised her, on closer inspection he was less sure; she had been fifteen years old the last time he’d seen her!

She swallowed hard, deliberately not looking at Fergus now; a previous brief glance his way had told her that he was stunned at the identity of the other man.

Which wasn’t surprising! Until three years ago Peter Ambrose had been the British Prime Minister. Even now, he was still the Leader of the Opposition. And he obviously knew Chloe well enough to call her by her first name!