Читать книгу The Determined Husband - Lee Wilkinson, Lee Wilkinson - Страница 8

WHEN Sera surfaced slowly, reluctantly, her light was still on, but made tawdry by the sunshine filtering through the curtains. She felt disturbed and anxious without knowing precisely why.

It took a minute for her head to clear enough to recall the previous night. It had been after two before she’d fallen into an exhausted sleep and, still, Keir hadn’t returned.

Glancing at the simple watch she wore on a plain black strap, she saw that it was almost ten-thirty, and Martin was coming to pick her up at eleven.

Stumbling out of bed, she pulled on her dressing gown and, leaving her own door slightly ajar, went to knock on Keir’s.

There was no answer. Had he been and gone? Or hadn’t he returned at all?

But even someone as dedicated as he didn’t work all night. So what had he been doing?

Unbidden, a picture of Cheryl’s striking face and body flashed into Sera’s mind.

With a sudden pang she remembered what Keir had said after they had made love. ‘If it was just a casual affair, with no commitment on either side, it wouldn’t be a problem…’

At the time she hadn’t thought about his words too closely, hadn’t envisaged that he might apply them in other ways.

He’d made no promises about being faithful to her, and she’d asked for none. She had simply thought that, if he loved her, everything would be all right.

But would it?

Cheryl had more than enough sex appeal to light up Broadway, and very few scruples. If she made it plain that she fancied him…well, Keir was a red-blooded man…

Heart-sick, Sera turned away from his door and hurried back to her own room to shower and get ready for when Martin arrived.

Catching sight of herself in the spotted mirror, Sera saw she looked pale and depressed, and made herself up with care before coiling her black silky hair into a smooth knot.

Having nothing more suitable, she put on a white blouse, a charcoal-grey skirt and jacket, and grey leather court shoes. She had just picked up her bag when there was a knock at the door.

Perhaps it was Keir.

She rushed to open it and was disappointed to find Martin standing there.

Seeing the light die out of her face, he asked shrewdly, ‘Were you expecting someone else?’

‘No.’

He quirked a sandy brow. ‘Then, you don’t like my tie?’

Making an effort, she answered lightly, ‘On the contrary, I love it.’

‘In that case, I may never change it.’

Watching twin dimples appear as she smiled, he asked, ‘Ready to go?’

Indicating her suit, she queried, ‘Will this do?’

He pursed his lips. ‘It’s smart, but too office-like for this kind of semi-social occasion.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t have anything more suitable.’

‘That can soon be remedied. We’ll stop off at Barron Conté.’

‘No,’ she said sharply.

His pale blue eyes turned cold. ‘We would be merely purchasing the right clothes for the job. If you were an office cleaner and the company supplied you with an overall, I take it you would have no objections?’

‘No, but—’

‘This is a matter of business. You’re doing a job for the company for which you’ll get paid and for which you need to be stylishly dressed. You don’t have to keep the clothes if you don’t want to.’

She bit her lip. Perhaps this kind of thing was the norm? Maybe she was making a fuss about nothing?

‘What do you say?’

‘Very well,’ she agreed unwillingly. ‘If there’s enough time.’

‘There’ll be plenty of time.’ He smiled his satisfaction. ‘We’re not meeting the Kesslers until one o’clock.’

If lunch wasn’t until one, why had he come to pick her up so early? Unless he’d had this in mind from the start?

Suddenly, recalling how last night he’d said ‘Don’t worry, wear anything’, she knew he had, and felt a sudden apprehension, a growing suspicion that she was being manipulated.

‘Buy whatever you need,’ Martin ordered when they reached Barron Conté and dropped Sera off, ‘and charge it to the company. Price is no object.’

Warily she asked, ‘But what kind of thing would be most suitable?’

‘I’ll leave that to your good taste. But get a complete outfit, including undies.’

Not on your life, she thought. Buying undies had an implication that was unacceptable. The only clothes and accessories she was prepared to buy were the ones that would be visible and were strictly necessary.

‘Now I’ve some business to see to. I’ll pick you up in about an hour,’ Martin added.

Some fifty minutes later, her own clothes packed in a black and gold striped box, Sera emerged from the famous Fifth Avenue store and climbed into the waiting limousine.

She was still dressed in a suit, but the cut, the design, and the raw silk made it a far cry from the one that she had been wearing.

His glance running over her, Martin said with undisguised admiration, ‘You look a million dollars…’

With the sheerest of stockings and a pair of handmade shoes, she felt a million dollars.

‘Though I’d prefer it if you didn’t wear this. It doesn’t go with the outfit.’ Before she could guess his intention, he picked up her left hand and, slipping off her ring, dropped it into his pocket.

Sera held out her hand, saying as levelly as possible, ‘I’d like my ring back, please.’

Seeing the angry sparkle in her green eyes, he retrieved the ring and dropped it into her waiting palm.

‘Thank you.’ She put it carefully into her purse.

‘Not an engagement ring, surely?’ he enquired.

‘A memento…’ Wasn’t that what Keir had called it? She had thought of it as an engagement ring but, looking back, she knew Keir hadn’t. All he’d said was, ‘It might be as well not to keep it on too long. It will probably turn your finger green.’