Читать книгу Waiting For Mr. Wonderful! - Stephanie Howard - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

GEORGIA blinked open her eyes, suddenly realising that she’d fallen asleep.

Horrors! What had she been thinking of? She squinted at her watch and discovered to her dismay that it was very nearly midnight. And Lasalle still wasn’t back yet. What the devil was the man up to?

Stiffly, she sat up, pushing her hair back from her face. Just be grateful that he is up to it, whatever it is, she told herself. Imagine how it would have looked if he’d come walking through the door and found you fast asleep at the foot of his bed!

It was at that moment that, through the bathroom door, she heard the sound of the shower.

Georgia froze, refusing to believe her ears for a moment. Surely not? He’d come back, calmly walked past her—for there was no way in the world he could have failed to notice her!—and then, as though everything were perfectly normal, he’d gone into the bathroom to have a shower! If nothing else, he deserved ten out of ten for cool.

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 slightest.’ 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.’

That took the wind out of her sails a bit, but she hadn’t finished with him yet.

‘You’re absolutely right—you can’t apologise enough! Do you think I have nothing better to do than sit around for hours waiting for you?’

‘No, I don’t think that.’ He frowned into her angry eyes. ‘Look, I suggest we go up to my room and talk. Come.’ As he spoke, he took her lightly by the arm.

Georgia snatched her arm away as though he’d bitten her, partly out of anger—how dared he lay a hand on her?—and partly from shock at the jolt that went through her. The sheer erotic power of it almost took her breath away.

Almost. She managed to snap, ‘I don’t need your help! I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own!’ Then she swung away furiously and marched ahead of him to the lifts.

They made their way up to the top floor in total silence. And not once did Georgia glance at him. She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead. She’d never been so furious with anyone in her life.

It wasn’t just that he’d kept her waiting, though that was bad enough. What had really triggered her explosion of fury was the way he’d been sitting there calmly reading his newspaper, just like that first time when she’d found him in her garden. So perfectly in control. So utterly uncaring. He seemed to think he had the right to behave as he pleased with her, that she was somehow at his beck and call.

Well, she was going to have to put him right about that!

At last, the lift doors opened and Lasalle took his key from his pocket, then stepped aside to let her pass ahead of him. He did the same when they reached his door. What perfect, impeccable manners! Too bad she wasn’t even the least bit impressed! She swept past him, then swung round to face him as he closed the door.

‘As I was saying down in the lobby just a moment ago...do you really think I have nothing better to do than sit around for hours waiting for you?’

‘No, I don’t, as I already said. It’s just been one of those days. Every single thing that could possibly go wrong did go wrong.’

Did he expect her to feel sorry for him? Georgia scowled into his face. ‘Well, thanks to you, it’s turned into one of those days for me too!’

‘I think we both need a drink.’ Abruptly, he turned away, heading for the fridge bar in the far corner. ‘Why don’t you take a seat while I fix us a couple of whiskies?’

‘I don’t drink whisky.’

Georgia glared at his back. And I don’t feel like taking a seat, she nearly added. But that was just her anger talking. She actually did feel like sitting down. All that churning emotion had made her quite dizzy.

From the small group of chairs round the coffee table beside the window, she chose one with its back to him and also with its back to the bed. It might be a little unsettling to have to sit and look at that!

She heard the clink of glasses, the sound of a bottle top being unwound, the clatter of ice cubes, the splash of liquid against them. Then his footsteps were coming back towards her across the carpet. Georgia scowled straight ahead of her and refused to turn round.

‘You’ll drink this whisky,’ he was saying. ‘It’s a special twelve-year-old single malt. I have a friend in Scotland who sends me regular supplies.’ As he came to the end of the sentence, suddenly he was standing right in front of her, holding a glass out towards her.

Startled, Georgia jumped and looked up into his face and was instantly thrown into a state of confusion.

She’d forgotten just how powerfully he was capable of affecting her and, taken by surprise, she was suddenly helpless before him. All at once, she could feel her heart clattering against her ribs and a squeeze of shameless pleasure at the sheer physical beauty of him. There was another sensation, too. A shaft of piercing longing that twisted oh, so sweetly inside her.

She held her breath. Heaven help me if he ever tries to seduce me, she thought. Where would I find the power to resist?

Numbly, she took the glass, carefully avoiding his fingers. She wouldn’t touch it, of course, for she never drank whisky, but if she took the glass without a fuss he might just move away. And, in fact, that was what he did. Taking a mouthful from his own glass, Lasalle turned to seat himself across the coffee table from her.

He leaned back and suddenly smiled. ‘You didn’t give me a chance to tell you, but you’re looking even more stunning than ever today.’

His gaze swept over her, perfectly openly, just like that first time in the garden, seeming to take in every tiny detail of the pale blue Chanel-style suit she was wearing. He gave a small, impudent click of appreciation. ‘Very chic. Very classy. It very much suits you.’

Georgia fixed him with a spiky look. ‘So glad you approve.’

Normally, she had no problem accepting compliments from men, but right now anything he said would have irked her. Besides, the compliment had struck her as just a little too smooth, as though it had been plucked from a familiar, well-thumbed repertoire. He no doubt handed out compliments like that all the time.

Feeling an acute sense of relief, she revised her earlier judgement. If he ever tried to seduce her, she’d resist him with ease. It was true that at times he had a powerful effect on her, but that was only because of a superficial weakness on her part. Deep down, she wasn’t attracted in the slightest to men who collected women the way some small boys collected postage stamps. Which was precisely the type of man that Jean-Claude Lasalle was.

Taking charge of herself again, she looked him in the eye and very pointedly set down her untouched glass on the coffee table. ‘Right,’ she said, ‘I don’t know about you, but now that we’ve finally managed to keep our appointment I’d rather like to get down to business. You said you had something important to tell me.’ She sat back in her seat and regarded him expectantly. ‘Feel free to go ahead. I’m listening.’

In response, Lasalle took another mouthful of his whisky. He looked back at her with interest. ‘Don’t you ever relax?’

‘I didn’t come here to relax. I came to hear what you have to tell me. I was under the impression that was supposed to be the point of this somewhat belated meeting?’

‘Don’t worry. I plan to tell you. But can’t I just drink my whisky first? I’ve had a hell of a day and I’ve just driven all the way from London.’

‘So you said. My heart weeps.’ Georgia flicked him a callous look. It cheered her up no end to know he’d had a hellish day. She shifted in her seat. ‘So, how do you suggest we pass the time? Are we going to sit here in silence while you drink your whisky or are we going to indulge in polite conversation?’

‘I vote for polite conversation.’

‘OK. You choose a subject. Restaurants? Films? Where we go for our holidays? Or maybe, to make it really entertaining, we could swap life stories? Let’s start with yours. I enjoy a good horror story.’

Lasalle was smiling. ‘Do I detect a touch of English irony?’ He took another mouthful of whisky, watching her over the glass. ‘That’s one of the things I like about you English. You never entirely lose your sense of humour.’

‘Is that so? Personally, I used to have rather a soft spot for the French, but I’m afraid that’s suddenly gone out the window. Though I suppose it’s really rather unfair to judge a whole nation by someone like you. You, after all, are hardly typical.’

‘You’re wrong. I would say I’m typically French. Charming. Urbane. All the usual Gallic qualities.’ As he said it, his gaze held hers and he smiled.

Georgia very nearly smiled back. Even through her irritation, there was something about that smile of his that she found deeply appealing. But she was damned if she would succumb. She fixed him with a cool look. ‘I see I’m not the only one with a sense of humour.’

‘So, we have something in common. That’s good.’ He was still smiling. ‘Two people who’re planning to team up together should definitely have a few things in common.’

‘Planning to team up together? Excuse me? What did you say?’

He was setting down his whisky glass on the table between them. ‘You wanted to get down to business, so that’s what I’m doing...’

As she frowned, he leaned forward and looked deep into her eyes, so that Georgia had to fight very hard to stop from blinking. And she was suddenly very conscious that she was sitting in his bedroom with a huge king-sized bed just a couple of whiskies away over her shoulder.

She held her breath, eyes unblinking, as he leaned even closer and elaborated, ‘That’s what I want to propose. That you and I get together. I think we’d make a beautiful team.’