In Want of a Wife? (15 page)

‘Cheap and cheerful?’

‘Cheerful.’ While she was still considering the option, and trying to work out how they were now communicating in this perfectly harmless manner, Louis engineered a fluid exit to his car.

Maybe this was what was needed, she thought. Just a bit of perspective. Maybe the perspective would take away that
scary hold he seemed to have over her, bring him down a couple of pegs to the level of ordinary—or ordinary-ish, at any rate. And she
had
to go with him, didn’t she? He was on the brink of donating vitally needed money to the school; he was calling the shots. Dinner at a cheerful though expensive place in Chelsea didn’t seem like such a dangerous idea.

He kept her talking all the way to the restaurant, unthreatening, impersonal conversation about school policies and procedures, turnover rate of the kids, the quota of non-English-speaking pupils, the availability of computers. She asked him about the school he had gone to, a school she had heard of but never seen first-hand, and she found that she was listening intently to every word he said, thirsty for stray titbits of information about him.

By the time they made it to the restaurant, it was a struggle to remember the cause of her antagonism towards him. But she recalled it briefly and half-heartedly as they sat down at a table which seemed to have miraculously vacated purely for their convenience.

‘I’m on personal terms with the owner,’ Louis said by way of explanation, because the restaurant was packed to the rafters with people being turned away at the door.

Lizzy dimly remembered that they were poles apart, which was significant, although she couldn’t muster the energy to let that bother her. She was tired, she was hungry and she had been thrown by his unexpected appearance at her place of work.

‘Handy.’

‘Are you going to give me a long lecture about the privileges that money can buy?’

But he was grinning at her and she smiled weakly back at him.

‘I’m tired after a hard day at work, so can we just take it as read that I have?’

Louis laughed and looked at her appreciatively. More than
any other woman he had ever known, not only was she stubborn, outspoken and totally unimpressed by him, but she also had a sense of humour that could make him laugh out loud. That in itself was a first. Suitable women from suitable backgrounds, those women who fitted the category of potential marriage partners—if and when that time came—might be the safe option but since when had they ever been noted for their keen sense of humour? How perfect was his
perfect criteria,
really? Only perfect on paper. Lizzy Sharp broke all the rules.

‘Deal,’ he said, inclining his head to one side.

‘And I’m only here because of the school-donation business.’

‘Of course.’ He watched as her mobile phone rang and she began rummaging in her capacious sack of a bag in search of it, muttering and cursing softly under her breath; he kept his eyes on her as he ordered a bottle of wine. He felt a twinge of intense curiosity as she turned away, huddling over the mobile and speaking quickly and quietly. Who was she talking to? What was with all the secrecy? And didn’t she know that it was extremely rude to conduct long, involved conversations on a mobile phone whilst in the company of someone else? He conveniently forgot the many times he had done just that whilst out to dinner with one of his women.

But when she eventually finished the call it wasn’t to apologise for her lapse in manners. Her face was drained of colour and she looked at him in silence for a few seconds.

‘It’s Leigh,’ she said shakily. ‘She’s quit university and run off with Freddy.’

‘What?’

‘That was Dad on the phone. They don’t even know where she is because they picked up the message on the answer machine. I think she might have gone into temporary hiding. Thing is, Dad said that they had heard rumours about Freddy being on drugs and they’re worried sick.’

‘He’s been clean for years!’ Louis growled. He raked restless fingers through his hair.

‘I have to go! ‘

‘Go
where,
Lizzy?’

‘Back home.’ She looked at him helplessly.

‘You won’t achieve anything if you go back to Scotland. You’ll just ratchet up the anxiety levels. Freddy hasn’t touched drugs since he was put into rehab, so that will be one worry off your parents’ minds.’

‘I know them. They’ve always worried about Maisie and Leigh. This will be their worst-case scenario. Not even Maisie knows where Leigh is, but she thinks that they might have gone and got themselves hitched. She’s known him for all of five seconds! Literally. I know what you think of my parents, but you have no idea how worried they’ll be. This will be the death of my father, on top of everything else.’

Louis reached out and took her hand firmly in his, and she let him. Her skin felt clammy.

‘I’ll find them.’

‘How do you even know for sure that he isn’t back on whatever he was on before he went into rehab? How? Leigh’s never done drugs but she’s pretty wild.’

‘I know. And it’ll be okay. You have to trust me.’

L
IZZY
didn’t know how life could just carry on as though nothing had happened, but over the next two days it struck her that that was exactly what was happening. When Louis had held her hand in that restaurant and told her that everything was going to be okay, he had meant it. And she had trusted him.

He had delivered her home from the restaurant, having made her eat, and repeated at least a hundred times that Freddy might be shiftless, lazy and opportunistic but wasn’t a junkie.

‘And who knows?’ he had mused. ‘He’s always made a point to target women who had money, and yet here he is, clearly besotted with one who hasn’t a bean to her name. How the times are changing …’

Now, when her mobile rang and his name flashed up, she didn’t hesitate to pick up. He had already called several times in the space of two days to find how she was, even though she assured him that she wasn’t an invalid and, having put things into perspective, wasn’t going to take on the problems of her family.

‘Of course you will,’ he had said, not hesitating to contradict her. ‘It’s your nature.’

Actually, Louis was enjoying the moment. Lizzy was the damsel in distress—a fictional character he had always considered vastly overrated—and he was the knight in shining

armour, yet another stereotype he had never had much time for. And yet.

Sitting at his desk, about to collate information for a meeting, his mobile phone buzzed and with a slashing smile of satisfaction he picked up the call from her. Somehow, he had assumed the responsibility of always being the one to phone. It felt good to be on the receiving end of her phone call for a change.

‘Lizzy.’

‘Am I disturbing you?’

Louis shoved his chair back and swivelled it so that he was facing the broad expanse of window which, six floors up, offered a view of the sky and the tops of other buildings in the square mile. ‘Not at all.’

‘Look, I’m just calling to say, well, thanks for … you know. Phoning my parents. I guess they probably gave you a hard time.’

‘Hold that thought. Where are you?’

‘At school. No playground duty today, thank heavens. I was just about to leave, actually. Some of the others are going to the pub for a quick drink and I thought I might tag along with them.’

‘What’s the name of the pub?’

‘Why?’

‘I can be with you in forty-five minutes.’

‘There’s no need …’ But a heady warm glow filled her, and she smiled as she paused in the staff room to gather her bag. Several of her friends were nudging each other and winking.

‘If I had a pound for every time you said that.’

‘You’re already a rich man.’

Louis laughed; his meeting would have to wait. He had a sudden thought. ‘Actually, why don’t you come over to my place? I can order in some food for us.’

‘Your place?’ Lizzy licked her lips nervously. He had been

nothing but the perfect gentleman during this whole sorry business—more, in fact. He had comforted her, set her mind at rest and won her trust, despite all her initial misgivings. Why did she suddenly feel so scared at the thought of being in his apartment alone with him? Was she really egotistical enough to imagine that he would suddenly try to make a pass at her? She had warned him off and he had duly retreated. Sure, she had been a little piqued at his rapid surrender, but he had been there from the second she had received that distressing phone call from her father, and she knew that he was working behind the scenes, trying to locate the still missing pair.

‘My place,’ Louis said drily. ‘It’s slightly more comfortable than sitting in a pub.’

‘Well …’

‘My driver will be there to collect you in half an hour—and don’t worry; you’ll be dropped back to your place in one piece at the end of the evening. I may have some news for you, better delivered face to face.’

As trump cards went, that was the ace in the pack. Fifteen minutes later, having foolishly felt the need to wash her face and apply some make-up, Lizzy was sitting in the pub, cradling a glass of orange juice and eyeing the door with a mixture of trepidation and simmering excitement.

Every arrival set her heart racing, although when his driver did appear she knew instantly who it was because his neatly creased trousers and smart jacket, combined with his searching expression, screamed his identity.

Her heart didn’t stop racing until they were in front of the imposing Georgian edifice at the very heart of one of London’s most expensive postcodes.

Suddenly her casual clothes and flat shoes, the practical uniform she reserved for school, seemed horrendously inappropriate. When she reached to let her hair out of its braid, her hand stilled and she told herself that she was not in the
habit of proving herself to anyone, and she wasn’t about to start now. Least of all to Louis Jumeau.

Her sense of bravado lasted just about as long as it took the lift to ferry her from the gracious foyer, complete with the requisite security-guard sitting behind a grand marble desk, up to the top floor where Louis occupied a penthouse apartment.

He was waiting for her. He opened the door on the first ring and stepped aside. Lizzy paused and looked around her.

‘Wow.’

‘Can I take your coat?’

Lizzy stepped out of her coat and ventured into the vast open-plan area which cool marble expanse was broken only by a series of rugs that looked as though they must have cost the earth. To the left, a long, uncluttered island separated the kitchen from the living area. It was the sort of arrangement that could have only possibly worked for a bachelor who spent precious little time actually producing anything in his kitchen. Cluttered counters with practical gadgets would have ruined the clean, streamlined effect. The living area was as spectacular and as modern as everywhere else, with low, cream-leather sofas, and on the walls instantly recognisable abstract-paintings. Surprisingly, instead of the flat being contained on one floor, a staircase swept up to a galleried landing; she assumed that the bedrooms were upstairs.

All told, it was the most amazing place she had ever stepped foot into in her entire life, and she gradually became aware that her eyes were probably popping out of their sockets.

‘This is a fantastic place.’ She took a few steps forward and hoped that she wasn’t leaving behind any tell-tale scuff marks from her shoes.

Louis looked around him, then back at her. ‘I wouldn’t have thought that it was exactly your style.’

‘Well, no. I don’t suppose I would actually enjoy living here, but it’s still fantastic. Very grand.’

‘I’m not sure whether to take that as an insult or a compliment.’

Lizzy blushed and finally looked at him. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude, and thank you for sending your driver for me. It really wasn’t necessary.’ He was heading towards the kitchen and she followed him. ‘Do you actually cook anything here?’ she asked curiously. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a clean kitchen outside of a showroom.’

From behind the open fridge door, Louis glanced back at her and grinned. ‘There you go again.’

It was that grin. The grin and the way he had rolled the sleeves of his work shirt to the elbows and undone the top buttons so that she could see the shadow of dark chest-hair. Her mouth went dry and she cleared her throat.

‘And, yes, I do happen to cook here. Occasionally.’

‘Real meals?’

‘Qualify that.’

‘Hot meals. The sort that most people might have for their dinner.’ She accepted a glass of white wine that was ice-cold.

‘I don’t make a habit of it,’ Louis admitted, indicating with a nod of his head that they should move into the sitting area.

Lizzy, busily taking her lead from him, decided that there was no need for her to remove her shoes, as he hadn’t removed his. In fact, he didn’t seem to care one way or another that she was grubby after a day at school and a hazard to his pristine furnishings.

‘You can’t eat out
every
night, surely?’ Curiosity about him overrode interest in the goings-on of Leigh, Freddy and the rest of her family. In fact, it overrode everything else on her mind. She was dimly aware of a gnawing desire to prolong time in his company. How had she found the strength to see her mobile phone ring, knowing that it was him, and still
resist the temptation to answer it?
Where
had she found the strength?

She felt overwhelmed. He was looking at her in a slumberous, sexy way that made her skin tingle. Did he know that he was doing that? Or was it just his way?

‘You’ve got to understand that I’m out of the country a fair amount of the time,’

‘But what do you do when you’re
in
the country?’

‘Should I be flattered at all this interest in my life?’ Louis asked with rich amusement and Lizzy tried and failed to look polite but indifferent.

‘I’m a teacher,’ she said, thinking quickly on her feet. ‘I’m programmed to be interested in other people. It’s important to be curious about the kids, because not all of them have such great family backgrounds, and it pays to know what’s going on on the home front.’

‘Ah.’ Louis crossed his legs and relaxed back as he looked at her thoughtfully over the rim of his glass. ‘So this is all a natural-transference thing.’

‘That’s right.’

‘In that case you’ll be disappointed but maybe not surprised to know that I have a caterer who will happily stock my freezer with gourmet meals whenever I need them. I shove them in the oven and, hey presto!’

But this wasn’t why she was here. There were important things to discuss and Lizzy wondered why she was beating around the bush. Was her curiosity about this man so intense? Why did she feel so weak and helpless the minute she was in his presence? It wasn’t simply because she was attracted to him. This was much more than lust. At least, for her.

A dull pain throbbed at the back of her head as thoughts formed and took shape, like shadowy figures emerging from some dark place.

The memory of how she had felt deep down inside when they had made love leapt out at her, demanding to be analysed.

His eyes were fixed on her face and Lizzy felt the slow crawl of realisation begin to wash over her. He had made her feel wonderful. He had changed something fundamental inside her and there was no use pretending to the contrary. Against all common sense, against everything her head had told her she had managed to fall in love with him. All the prejudices she had pulled out of the bag hadn’t been enough to stop the slide.

Elizabeth Samantha Sharp—outspoken, argumentative, contemptuous of women who would put their lives on hold for the sake of some guy—had done the unthinkable.

And the guy didn’t even consider her worthy of a relationship! He liked the novelty of her, and was interested in her as a brief sexual partner, but that was about the sum of it.

Mortification brought a bloom of heated colour to her cheeks and she tore her eyes away from his sinfully handsome face.

‘Okay. I didn’t come here to have a long chat about
you,’
she said with spirit. ‘You said that you had something to tell me about the whole situation, so it’ll probably be best if you just say what you have to say and I can be on my way.’

‘That wasn’t the arrangement,’ Louis said mildly, which made her frown.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘The arrangement was that we come here and I get some food in.’

Vulnerable and defensive, Lizzy eyed him with a superior expression. ‘Do you mean to tell me that you’re willing to get your pristine kitchen dirty by putting
food
on the counters?’ Her lips twitched and she stifled nervous laughter.

‘Yes, I’m about to consider the unthinkable and do just that.’

‘But will you know how to do the washing up when we’re finished eating?’

‘No, wench. That’s why you’re here.’

Lizzy laughed. She wanted to tell him not to tease her, or to look at her the way he was looking at her now, because it undermined all her hard-won common sense.

‘Now, you have a choice,’ Louis told her, strangely seduced by the mellow mood and in no desire to hurry it along. ‘Indian, Chinese or something from the Savoy.’

‘Please don’t tell me that you just said that.’

‘What? Chinese? Indian?’

‘"From the Savoy". Real people don’t order in from the
Savoy.’ I’m in love with him … How is that possible? How has that happened?
Shouldn’t her good judgement have made her immune? She had always been the level-headed one in the family. Maisie and Leigh were careless and wild, Vivian got lost in her good deeds and Rose was the incurable romantic—but she, Lizzy, had always had her life in order and her emotions under control. So how had this happened? ‘Real people actually clatter about with pots and pans and cooking utensils. Do you even know where your pots and pans are kept? You probably don’t even have any, and if you do I bet you haven’t got a clue how to use any of them!’

‘Is that a challenge?’ Louis asked lazily. ‘Because, if it is, you should know that I have never been able to resist a challenge.’ He didn’t want to get down to the business of discussing Leigh and Freddy, Nicholas and Rose, or her parents. Ever a man to focus on the relevant and get on with dealing with it, Louis now found himself in the unusual position of just wanting to live for the moment. And right now, the ‘moment’ was talking to the woman sitting opposite him, hands resting lightly on her thighs, amusement glinting in her dark eyes. When it came to challenges, forget the small matter of his culinary skills; Lizzy Sharp was the greatest challenge he had ever encountered.

‘And I’d bet you have nothing in that kitchen that could go into making a meal,’ Lizzy scoffed.

‘Maybe not a hearty Irish stew, but I’m well equipped for
anything that requires champagne, wine, butter and …’ Louis frowned. What exactly was in his fridge? When had he last been in it, anyway? ‘Let’s go shopping.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Shopping. There’s a delicatessen five minutes away. Now that you’ve thrown down the gauntlet, I’m keen to prove my cooking skills. We can discuss other more serious matters over dinner. I don’t know about you, but I would quite like to unwind for a while.’