Читать книгу Be My Bride: The Right Mr Wrong / A Most Suitable Wife / Betrothed for the Baby - Natalie Anderson - Страница 12

ONE

‘Yes, of course,’ Victoria answered brightly, ignoring the burning muscles in her hand. ‘Absolutely.’

She’d do whatever it took. That was what entrepreneurs did, right? Made sacrifices. Worked all night. She’d read You Too Can Be a Billionaire months ago, so she knew. Not that she wanted to be a billionaire or even a millionaire. She’d settle for solvent—no more of that screaming red ink on her bank statement, thanks.

Anyway, writing another five place cards in flourished copperplate was nothing on the number she’d already done. So long as those passed their impending inspection. They’d better. So much depended on this.

Victoria watched her client, Aurelie Broussard, cross the ornately furnished room to the large writing desk where she nervously waited. Like everyone else who’d ever been in Aurelie’s presence, Victoria couldn’t help staring. The ‘in-another-realm’ woman glowed in a long white summer dress and navy shrug. Her hair fell to the middle of her back in long, loose curls. Its colour matched her eyes, as glossy and dark and sensual as hot fudge sauce. Athlete, model, businesswoman. And about seven months pregnant judging by the graceful swell of her belly. Victoria hadn’t known about the baby, but then she didn’t know much about the former world-champion surf star other than that she was getting hitched in five days’ time. Victoria deliberately didn’t take an interest in water sports—they flowed too close to deep-buried, sharp-edged memories.

She’d never met a more beautiful woman. Or anyone with the power to improve her business so drastically— or destroy it. If Aurelie liked her work, she’d be set. If she didn’t, Victoria was screwed. And brides were notoriously picky—especially brides with squadrons of celebrity friends and a ‘super wow factor’ wedding to pull off in less than a week.

Victoria slowed her movements to hide her nerves, carefully laying out some of the completed cards on the antique wood. Aurelie silently studied them. They’d taken Victoria more hours than she could count, working under bright lights all through the night to get them finished. She’d been contracted at the last minute—not ideal for a calligrapher whose craft required light, space, time and serenity to get it right.

‘They are beautiful.’ Aurelie finally gave her verdict. ‘Exactly what I wanted.’

Victoria rapidly blinked back burning tears of relief. Two hundred and thirty-four painstakingly calligraphed cards—so many in such a short time she was in pain. But she wanted to be sure all were perfect.

‘I’ve done them exactly as they were written on your list but someone will double check them?’ she asked. She didn’t want some A-lister offended by having her name incorrectly spelt.

Aurelie nodded. ‘My assistant. Perhaps you can do the extra five while you’re here?’ She slid open the top drawer of the desk and drew out a sheet of paper with a list of names typed on it.

‘Of course I can…’ She’d brought her pen and ink and spare card with her, but the implication of five more guests suddenly hit and caused tunnel vision. ‘Umm…with the extra guests…’ Victoria’s innards shrivelled. ‘Does that mean you’ve changed the seating plan?’

That plan had taken so very, very long already. One large board with all those two hundred and thirty-four names written yet again in flourished copperplate, plus titles for the table—surf beaches. The thought of redoing the entire thing sent Victoria’s brain spinning. The nerves in her hand shrieked.

‘Yes.’ Aurelie turned her beautiful face towards her, and drew up to her full height—almost a head taller than Victoria. ‘Will that be a problem?’

‘Not at all.’ Victoria somehow stretched her mouth into a smile and lied. She’d stitch back her eyelids and work round the clock for the next five days and nights to get this done—and she was going to need every one of those hours to do it.

She remembered being a bride, wanting everything to be perfect. She’d work as hard as she could to help Aurelie have everything the way she wanted. But while Victoria’s own ceremony had been fairy-tale pretty, her marriage to Oliver hadn’t been perfect. It had been a slow-imploding mess.

Working on Aurelie’s wedding would help her recovery, financially at any rate. There were so many privileged people coming, with her best work on show, she might get more commissions.

The irony of having a career where she helped people create their perfect weddings wasn’t lost on her, given her own spectacular matrimonial failure. But she wasn’t cynical. For the right couple, a wedding was a wonderful beginning.

Hopefully Aurelie’s fiancé was a decent guy. Victoria knew even less about him than she did about Aurelie. She hadn’t looked up any Internet info—the turnaround time was so tight she’d had to get straight on with writing. But she’d recognised the names of some of their guests—elite sports people, celebrities, models.

‘I’m sure I can count on you.’ Aurelie smiled.

It was one of those smiles with an ‘I’ll kill you if you screw up’ edge. Well, while Aurelie was counting on her, Victoria would be counting on coffee—dump trucks of it.

‘I can do the cards here and now if you’d like, but I’ll need to redo the table plan at home. I don’t have the supplies here.’

Aurelie nodded. ‘I’ll get my assistant to email you the changes for that.’

‘And I’ll bring it here as soon as it’s done.’

‘And when will that be?’ The ice cool question, the smile. No pressure at all.

Victoria hesitated, desperate to please but not wanting to over-promise. ‘Well in time for the wedding.’ Victoria clung to her smile as Aurelie looked at her for what felt like hours.

Finally Aurelie smiled back. ‘Thank you.’

Great. Victoria put her bag on the chair and took out her pen case and ink bottle. Five cards shouldn’t take that long and she’d please her client. Then she’d rest up on the train and study the seating changes at home. And call by the shop on the way to load up on stay-awake supplies.

‘Do you like the candles?’ Aurelie suddenly asked.

Victoria turned. Aurelie had opened the lid of a big box stacked beside the desk. It was filled with tissue-wrapped cylinders neatly packed end to end. Aurelie lifted one out and unwound the delicate covering and revealed a candle in a gorgeous soft white.

‘They’re surfboard wax scented.’ Aurelie giggled. ‘My favourite.’

Victoria grinned at the quirkiness. To be married in a French chateau by candlelight with handwritten calligraphy and lace and silk everywhere? Not to mention fireworks and orchestra and fountains? Aurelie might be doing some things slightly out of order, but there was a lot that was traditional in her plans—and fun. She was having it all. Good for her.

‘They’re beautiful. This whole place is beautiful. It is going to be enchanting.’ Victoria meant it, she really did.

Aurelie put the candle back. ‘It is going to be parfait!’

‘It is.’ Victoria drew in a breath for courage. ‘Now, the menu hasn’t changed, has it?’ she asked, mentally crossing every crossable part of her body as she waited for the answer.

‘No.’ Aurelie laughed—a peal of infectious amusement that had Victoria smiling again. ‘I see why you were recommended,’ Aurelie said. ‘You don’t get flustered. You just say yes.’

Victoria maintained her smile despite the tweak on her nerves. In two minutes Aurelie had nailed her. Victoria had been so good at saying yes. To her parents, to Oliver. To the people she’d been desperate to please more than anything—more than herself. And then what Aurelie had said registered.

‘I was recommended?’ Who’d have done that? She’d only been in Paris seven months—most of her income was derived from the secretarial work she got from an agency. She’d only recently relaunched her online calligraphy and personal stationery design business. Perhaps it was a contact from when her company had been flying high in London? Either way she was grateful—despite the last minute panic that Aurelie had just dumped on her.

But Aurelie didn’t answer, she’d swiftly crossed to the window. Now Victoria too heard the crunch of the gravel outside. A car.

‘Oh, no,’ Aurelie gasped. ‘He’s here. He can’t see any of this. If he comes in here, hide it. Everything.’ With superior athletic grace, even with that burgeoning belly, Aurelie ran from the room.

Victoria blinked at the suddenly empty atmosphere. Presumably he was the groom. Curious to see what kind of guy had landed the incomparable Aurelie, she walked over to the window and peered down the two levels to the grand entrance.

The discreet-but-gleaming black car parked right in front was empty. As she watched, one of the conservatively clad assistants strode across the courtyard towards it. No doubt he was going to park it somewhere where it wouldn’t ruin the picture-postcard perfection. While it might be a ‘miniature’ chateau, it was still one of the grandest buildings Victoria had ever been in. Surrounded by formal gardens with long avenues and hidden nooks and a selection of trick fountains, it was gorgeous.

She went back to the desk, picked up the completed cards and dropped them back in their protective box. She didn’t want any damaged; she had too much to redo already. She took out several blank cards from the other box she’d brought in case, frowning as she arranged them. The desk was beautiful, but it wasn’t angled like her one at home. It’d be better if she could do these there, but she wasn’t about to say ‘no’ to Aurelie.

She prepared her pen, drawing up ink, and worked on a practice card—warming up her fingers and getting the ink to flow smoothly.

‘Aurelie, you in here?’

Victoria froze, her pen digging into the card. Shock curdled her blood. Ink spilled but she hardly noticed. Because she knew that voice. That warm, laid-back, confident call.

She turned her head as he walked into the room. Her heart paused for a painfully long time between beats. She held her breath even longer.

Liam?

Utterly gorgeous, absolutely unattainable Liam?

Her eyes were so wide they wanted to water. But that wasn’t happening. Not in the presence of this particular guy. Never ever.

He paused, barely noticeably, before walking towards her. But, as always, Victoria noticed every tiny thing about him, so she saw that slight hesitation. She also saw his height—his tall, lean, muscled physique. He’d always been an athlete and more competitive than most. Dangerously competitive. Liam Wilson wanted to win, no matter the cost.

And he’d won the best, hadn’t he?

Aurelie.

His sunflower-flecked brown eyes locked on her. Staring right back, Victoria saw the trademark easy-going stubble covering that sharp-edged jaw. She saw the dark brown hair, cropped closer than it had been the last time she saw him. Only vaguely did she take in the jeans and white tee because she was fully mesmerised by his expression—that intense, purposeful focus.

OM freaking G.

Liam Wilson. She couldn’t believe it. Completely thrown, she looked down for a sec to collect her scrambled thoughts. How could he have grown even more attractive? How could she take one look and want all over again?

Pulling the plug on the visual didn’t work. Because now she remembered so much of a time that had been so short. Now she wanted to hide. No one had ever exposed her the way Liam once had—with just one look.

‘Victoria.’

She fixedly stared at the ink-splodged mess she’d made on the card, aware he’d stopped a few feet from her chair.

He cleared his throat. ‘Long time, no see.’

She heard the smile. He’d always spoken with that easy-as smile. That innate confidence had been part of what had drawn her to him. The kind of confidence she’d never had. She’d been jealous of his ‘I-don’t-give-a-damn-what-you-all-think’ attitude too, because she’d never had that.

Focused, hungry, fascinating. Liam had an edge Victoria hadn’t encountered before or since. Tall, strong, determined to do what he wanted, he’d sliced through any opposition.

Until Oliver. And her.

Unable to resist, she chanced a glance back at him. That element of danger? It was still there—now lethal. Because, despite that smile, his eyes weren’t just focused and relentless, they were hard.

There was no point clearing her throat. It wasn’t going to work. Nothing in her body—especially not her brain— was working this second. Or the next.

‘How’ve you been?’ he asked.

Oh, he had to be kidding. Five years since she’d last seen him, five years since he’d interrupted her own wedding proposal and here he was five days from his wedding and he was greeting her like some old schoolmate?

Then again, how else to handle it?

She looked at the blank cards on the desk, glad she’d packed the others away. Aurelie hadn’t wanted him to see them.

Aurelie. Liam.

Aurelie Broussard was marrying Liam Wilson.

Liam was the father of Aurelie’s baby.

Liam was getting married.

Why was it so hard to compute?

She’d once had the chance to say yes to Liam. Not to marriage but to something. She hadn’t. She’d said yes to someone else and life had moved on for all of them. And she was okay with that, wasn’t she?

Yes.

She straightened, ignoring the churning riot of recollections and emotions inside. She was happy. And she’d act like it.

‘Fine, thanks.’ Score. Her voice sounded almost normal. ‘How are you?’

‘Stunned to see you.’

Hardly stunned. He was still standing, tall and fit in those blue jeans and soft leather boatshoes and an eye-wateringly bright white tee with seams that had to cling hard to contain his broad shoulders. It ought to be impossible, but the guy was more gorgeous than he’d been back then. But what really stunned her was the glint in his eyes. He blatantly stared—at her hair, over her face, seeming to take in each feature—lingering on her mouth and then dropping below, taking in her figure. Was he sizing her up as he had that very first time they’d met? Back then it had been excusable—he’d not known who she was. But now?

Victoria tensed beneath his inspection, willing her body not to let the remnants of that old attraction show. Because that was all it was, like muscle memory—an imprint of an old infatuation. Not real. Certainly not worse. It couldn’t be.

‘It’s been a long time,’ he said. ‘And, as impossible as I’d have thought it, you’re even more beautiful now.’

Her breath quickened as her body absorbed his words— words that mirrored her thoughts of him. Her system responded so inappropriately. Heat shot everywhere—most of all deep and low in her belly.

Her brain clicked more slowly, taking too long to realise that it was meaningless, just his usual flirt talk. That was all it had ever been. Talk. But he had no right to tease her. Not that she could put him in his place the way she wanted to. Not when it was his fiancée she was working for. No, she was going to remain calm and professional and brush him off politely.

‘You’re looking good too,’ she said crisply. She even smiled. She could handle this unfortunate coincidence and she could handle him. Of course she could.

He leaned against the table right next to where she sat. Her feet tingled, her legs itched. But she wasn’t running, not showing how badly he got to her. She knew he was playing. He’d played with her before. She remembered that exact roguish expression from the first night she’d met him in the guest bathroom at Oliver’s parents’ place. Then, as now, Liam looked like a wicked cat who’d just spied a juicy mouse and he was going to have fun devouring it ever so slowly.

Victoria Rutherford was never going to be a mouse again.

‘Thank you,’ he drawled.

Her eyes narrowed as anger seeped through her polite armour. He really was the same game player? After all this time? Even now he was about to get married?

‘Victoria,’ he murmured softly, as he’d once murmured her name before. Now, as she had then, she steeled her heart.

How could she be this affected again by his mere presence?

Victoria froze as he moved, leaning across her—far, far too close. She held her breath but it was futile. He still smelt of ocean spray, sunshine and freedom. A heady, intoxicating mix that had once made her almost crazy high. The ultimate, forbidden temptation. Her boyfriend’s best friend.

As her client’s fiancé, he was even more forbidden now. So her suddenly over-excited hormones could just go back into dormant mode. Liam Wilson—even if he was single—would never be hers.

‘What are you doing?’ she squeaked—totally mouse— as he came closer still.

His gaze didn’t leave hers; his mouth curved as he moved into her space. She was transfixed by that intense, challenging look. And he was so close now, she could see the individual, unfairly long lashes that framed his dangerously warm eyes.

‘Mind if I take this?’ He pulled the pen out of her clenched fingers with a sharp tug. ‘It’s looking a little like a weapon there. You stabbed me in the heart once. I’m not chancing it again.’

She gaped. As if she’d hurt him? Quite the reverse. He’d hurt her. And Oliver. He’d thrown a spanner between them—damaging the bond that was never fixed quite right after. But he didn’t need to know how much he’d mattered.

‘I hurt you?’ She pulled herself together and faked a light laugh. ‘No woman has ever hurt you.’

A single eyebrow lifted. ‘You think?’ He shook his head. ‘Aren’t I as vulnerable as anyone else?’

‘No,’ Victoria said bluntly.

‘Come on,’ he drawled. ‘You know exactly how human I am,’ he purred.

‘Are you hitting on me?’ she whispered—utterly amazed—and aghast. ‘Seriously?’

When his seven-months-pregnant fiancée was in the building and he was getting married in less than a week?

Screw the prospects this job might bring. As far as Victoria was concerned, Aurelie didn’t need flourishes. She needed a new fiancé.

‘Liam!’ There was a squeal and a vision in white darted across the room. Aurelie really was too swift for a heavily pregnant woman, not to mention perfectly chic and elegant even in her third trimester.

‘Hey.’ Liam wrapped his arms around Aurelie for a tight hug before pushing her back to arm’s length and gazing at her adoringly. ‘You. Look. Amazing.’

‘I look huge but I don’t care.’ Aurelie laughed and leaned closer, smiling openly up at him. ‘And I’m so glad you’re here.’

Victoria’s stomach twisted. Because he was a flirt cheat—not that she was jealous. There was nothing to be jealous of. She was happily divorced. Happily single. The last thing she wanted to do was revisit past mistakes and Liam Wilson had been an almighty mistake.

A mistake that Aurelie was about to make. Aurelie, whose features appeared brighter—her lips shinier. She’d disappeared for those few moments to touch up her makeup? Someone had to warn her about him. Only Victoria couldn’t—she could never go there. Instead she loudly scraped together the blank cards on the table.

‘Don’t worry, Aurelie,’ Victoria interrupted the scene, not wanting to watch them indulge in more PDA. ‘He’s not seen anything.’

Aurelie and Liam turned, the spell between them broken.

‘All the surprises are safely hidden,’ Victoria continued with determined firmness. Why were they looking at her as if she were speaking Martian?

‘I’ve put everything away…’ she faltered.

Something had flashed in Liam’s face—a frown? A flicker of anger? It had passed so quickly Victoria couldn’t decide. And now came the smile—the one that charmed everyone.

‘Yes, don’t worry, I left the groom downstairs.’ Liam jerked his head to the door. ‘But he’ll be up here in a second if you don’t hurry to see him.’

But Aurelie didn’t hurry. She gazed up at Liam, her palm flat on his chest. ‘It is so good to see you. I wasn’t sure you’d come.’

‘I didn’t want to miss it.’

‘Yes, you did.’ She laughed again and patted his chest a couple of times. ‘But I am glad you’re not. Thank you.’

‘Anything for you.’ He winked and gently brushed the back of his hand along the edge of her fine-boned jaw. ‘Now you’d better go stop him from coming up and spoiling any of your surprises.’

As Aurelie left the room Victoria sat in a swelter of confusion and defiance and embarrassment.

‘You thought I was Aurelie’s fiancé?’ Liam walked back towards her, his smile had widened yet he managed to look less friendly.

Could he blame her when Aurelie had said ‘he’d’ arrived and then Liam had walked in as if he owned the place?

‘You thought I was marrying her?’ He stepped closer, suddenly very tall and a lot like a roadblock. ‘And playing you?’

Victoria tried to glance behind him but it was impossible. He was fully in her face and expecting an answer with his eagle eyes. The only thing to do was play it cool. Frigidly cool. ‘Do you blame me for thinking that?’ She arched her brows as if that could make her taller. ‘You have form.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘I could spend some time arguing that, but why bother?’ He stayed in place, right in her space. ‘Just as I was five years ago, Victoria, I’m here as a guest.’

A guest. He truly wasn’t Aurelie’s fiancé.

For a second relief flooded her. But then mortification screamed back. Her cheeks burned under his mocking scrutiny.

Of course she’d thought he was the groom. In the rare moments she’d ever let herself think of him in the last five years, he’d always been the groom. The guy she’d never said yes to and refused to ever regret.

‘Your name wasn’t on the guest cards,’ she said defensively.

‘I didn’t think I was going to be able to make the wedding,’ he explained. ‘That’s why I’m one of the late additions.’ He pointed to the sheet of paper Aurelie had put on the desk.

He hadn’t made it to Victoria’s wedding. She wasn’t sure he’d even been invited. Not after what had happened. It was the only time she’d seen Oliver uncontrollably angry. She’d gone upstairs and the rest of the family had retired to change for lunch. Oliver and Liam had gone outside. Victoria had pressed close to her bedroom wall, secretly peering out of the window.

Liam had taken the blow without putting up any physical defence. The spot on his jaw had reddened, but all the while he’d quietly insisted to Oliver that nothing had happened. That she’d done nothing. That his interruption wasn’t her fault. It had been his mistake alone.

He’d been facing the house. He’d glanced up, seen her. Their eyes connected for one split second.

Withdrawing. Apologising. Leaving.

He’d never looked at her again. Until today.

But had she done nothing? Really? Who had made the bigger mistake? Whose fault was it really? She’d been scared. She’d never had the strength to stand up to any of them—her parents, Oliver. Even Liam. She’d always done as they bid because she’d needed their approval. And all of them had steamrollered over her. But she’d let them—she’d helped them. That wasn’t happening again. Only now she did look at the list Aurelie had handed to her. The third name down?

Liam Wilson.

‘Oh.’ She faked a bright smile. ‘I thought—’

‘I know what you thought,’ he said, easing back into position against the desk. ‘You never thought much of me, did you?’

That wasn’t true but she couldn’t reveal what she’d thought of him all those years ago. She couldn’t admit it then, she couldn’t now.

There were five names on that list: three men, two women—one of whom had the same surname as another of the guests. The other woman’s name was written last, beneath another man’s name. Liam’s name stood alone in the middle there. Was he coming to the wedding without a partner?

She didn’t need to know. She really didn’t. Because it didn’t matter.

That didn’t stop her glancing at his hands—his fisted fingers. Bare knuckles didn’t mean anything for men. Many guys didn’t wear wedding rings or, if they did, only when convenient. And even if they did wear them?

Victoria knew all too well how a wedding ring wasn’t necessarily an obstacle as far as another woman was concerned. Or for a husband who was no longer satisfied in his marriage. Liam’s lack of ring meant nothing. Nor did his lack of date.

But still that unwanted excitement heated her blood and anticipation zinged through her veins. What was she, some teen girl going to meet her fave ever boyband?

But he might be free. And now? So was she. There was nothing to stop them from finally exploring this thing…

Only the ten tonnes of baggage she was constantly pushing in front of her. And the baggage he’d worked into some kind of bullet-proof vest that he wore beneath that easy-come, easy-go attitude.

‘I’m sorry.’ She looked up at him. For today, for all those years ago. For what could never have been and never could be. She’d moved on; she didn’t want to go back to the doormat she’d been. She had plans and they didn’t involve anyone else. Not him. Not any man.

Liam looked right back at her, his mouth curved in that slight, sexy smile. Time shifted—five years disappeared in that unspoken communication. She was drawn right back into those feelings that should have been forgotten—warmth, want, desire.

And she had to get out of there before she did something really dumb.

He wrapped his fingers right round her wrist—halting her just as she moved. ‘I’m not anyone’s fiancé.’ His grip was sure and warm. ‘That means I’m free to flirt with whoever I want,’ he added.

‘Not with me,’ she said huskily, swallowing to ease the dryness in her throat. She didn’t want to flirt with anyone.

‘Yes, you.’ His smile was oddly gentle. ‘You’re not anyone’s fiancée either, or wife.’

So he knew her marriage had ended.

‘I can’t believe you still blush like this—’

‘I’m not here to flirt,’ she interrupted him quickly. ‘I’m here to work.’ The emphasis was for herself as much as for him. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by this quirk of fate.

His gaze rested on her for a long moment, as if he were weighing the truth of her words. His grip remained firm— could he feel her pulse accelerating?

He let her go. ‘Then let’s see you in action.’ He handed back her pen.

As if.

‘I can’t do this with you watching.’ Her palms were damp; she’d already smudged ink everywhere just from hearing his voice. She’d be less competent than a two-year-old with a pack of finger-paints right now.

‘You always had a problem with me watching.’

She tensed, hoping to stop him from seeing her all-over tremble. She had always been aware of the way he watched her. ‘It’s not you,’ she lied sassily. ‘I don’t like anyone watching me work.’

‘In case you make a mistake?’

‘Not at all.’ She lied yet again. ‘I’m not afraid to make mistakes. I’ve made many.’ Too, too many.

‘Then you’re fine to write in front of me. Write my name.’

She shook her head. She wasn’t going to make more mistakes. She had to focus now.

‘You’re still a chicken,’ he jeered.

‘You’re confusing cowardice with being sensible.’ She had always tried to do the sensible thing. No shame in that, right? ‘And with these smudges?’ She held up her fingers. ‘Why would I waste my time and resources?’

He glanced at the table. ‘You’re really into all this?’

‘I want Aurelie to have what she wants.’

‘So you’ve not been put off weddings and all that’s wonderful about them?’

‘Of course not,’ she mocked. He was the cynical one, not she. ‘You think because my marriage didn’t work out, I’d go all bitter and anti?’

His lips twitched. ‘No. I just…wouldn’t have expected you to be so into weddings, I guess.’

‘I’m into other people’s weddings,’ she said smoothly, putting her pen back into its case. ‘And you’re still not into weddings at all.’

His shoulders lifted. ‘And yet here I am. Happy to enjoy someone else’s wedding.’

‘That’s an improvement on the last time I saw you. You didn’t seem to want anyone to marry then.’

‘And I was right, wasn’t I?’ He casually picked up a candle and breathed in the scent.

She took that hit. ‘You couldn’t have foreseen what was going to happen.’

‘Couldn’t I?’

No. She rejected the idea totally.

‘You and I both knew it wasn’t right,’ he said softly, lowering the candle and coolly looking at her. ‘Even Oliver knew it wasn’t right.’

‘I think it’s best if I go home and work on these in my studio,’ Victoria said through gritted teeth.

‘Where are you staying? Paris?’ Liam asked, his lips curving in that suspiciously sinful way. ‘I can give you a lift.’

‘You’re not staying here?’

He shook his head and straightened, looking all man-of-action. ‘I have some things in town I need to do.’

She couldn’t possibly get a lift with him. Never. The train was the only option.

Victoria looked up to meet his gaze and saw the mockery written all over him. But as she was about to answer he laid a finger over her lips.

‘What are you so worried about?’ he taunted slyly. ‘You’ll be stuck with me for less than an hour. What harm can come?’

To be stuck in a car with the guy who’d once tempted her so completely? She’d be mad to contemplate it. She had to think of some excuse.

‘With you driving?’ she tried to tease archly. ‘You always travelled too fast, Liam. So I’d say all kinds of harm could come.’

‘Oh, well.’ His answer came lazy and insolent. ‘If it’s speed you’re afraid of, why don’t you drive?’