One-Click Buy: November Harlequin Presents (115 page)

She stood there, challenging him to say something which would indicate what he thought about selfish unmarried mothers—women who thought they could have it all—because that was obviously what he
would
think.

But his expression gave nothing away, and he stood back to allow her to get into the car. ‘Where do you live?' he asked abruptly. ‘Will eight o'clock be too soon? I have a table booked at the Laurels for nine.'

Cryssie tried to stop her mouth opening and closing like a fish! The Laurels was the most expensive restaurant in the area—she'd never expected to step inside the place, let alone be treated to dinner! And in the same second she thought. So he's already booked a table! The man who always got everything he wanted! For a moment she thought she'd scupper his plans and refuse, for the sheer hell of it! Instead, she said, ‘We live at number nine Birch End Lane—do you know it? Right by the public tennis courts.' Why
should
he know their humble address? she thought. His own would be somewhere magnificent, far away from here.

‘I do know where it is,' he answered at once. ‘I've played on those courts many times.'

She finally got into the car and closed the door, winding down the window and glancing up. ‘Do you need me to fetch any papers or figures from the office for our discussion later?' she enquired pertly.

‘That won't be necessary,' he said. ‘I merely want a more general outline of how everything—everyone—ticks. I'm not looking for statistics.' He paused, then added casually, ‘It's black tie this evening, by the way. One night in the year when they expect that sort of thing at the Laurels.'

Cryssie nodded as she started the car and prepared to reverse slowly. ‘I'll be ready at eight,' she said airily through the open window. Then she pulled away and drove out into the rush-hour traffic, her mind in a complete and utter whirl!

The whole day had been surreal enough, she thought, from the morning's bombshell to the non-stop chattering and analysing of the situation, and finally being practically accosted by her new employer and invited out to dinner on New Year's Eve! And why
her,
for heaven's sake? But then, why
not
her? she asked herself. As he'd said, they had met before—were acquainted in a funny sort of way. He obviously thought it a sufficient enough opening that he could use for the purpose he'd said—to find out about his staff on a more personal level than he was likely to do through discussion with the Lewis brothers. Especially as she'd proved herself to be not backward in coming forward!

She kept thinking of all the things she'd said to him on Christmas Eve, trying to recall whether she'd been as off-hand and uncomplimentary as her memory now told her she had. One thing was certain—she was a marked woman…Her outspokenness had made her stand out from the crowd, and not in an exactly flattering way!

As she contemplated the evening to come a sudden thought struck her, and she nearly swerved off the road in horror. What on earth did she have to wear? It was obvious that his mentioning he would be appearing in evening dress was to give her a clue as to what she should do about it herself. He probably thought that without some prompting, she'd turn up in jeans and a sweater! And the horrible fact was she didn't
have
anything to wear! She never went anywhere that made it necessary to buy pretty clothes, so normally it wasn't a problem. Her wardrobe consisted entirely of skirts, shirts, tops and denims. She wasn't
into
clothes. She left all that sort of stuff to Polly—even though her sister never went anywhere, either. And it was no use thinking that anything of Polly's would fit her, because there was a five inch difference in their height and she'd only trip up and fall headlong and embarrass Jed Hunter even further!

Perhaps she could plead a sudden migraine and not go after all? she thought desperately—then realised she had no idea how to contact the man. She groaned, and had a terrible sinking feeling that this was going to be one of the worst nights of her life.

When she got home, Polly had already put Milo to bed, and was curled up on the sofa, reading.

‘I've got to go out tonight, Poll,' Cryssie said casually, as she went into the kitchen with some shopping she'd collected.

‘Where to?' her sister asked, without looking up.

‘Oh, just a meeting—a work thing,' Cryssie said.

Presently, in her bedroom, she opened her wardrobe door and stared at the rather anonymous array of clothes—as if hoping that something suitable would magically appear. But she knew there was
nothing!
Panic set in, and she sat down silently, her head in her hands. She didn't
need
this!

Suddenly, her heel touched the edge of the large cardboard box holding the only ‘occasion' dress she'd ever possessed. A deep ocean-green number she'd bought in a charity shop for her eighteenth birthday party, seven years ago. And after her A level results they'd all gone to the end-of-school bash, and everyone had dressed up. She had truthfully not given the dress a thought since that night…Could it possibly still fit her? And what would she look like in it after all this time?

Dragging the box out, she wiped the fine layer of dust from the lid with a tissue, then removed the garment and, standing up, shook out the folds, holding it against her and staring at herself in the mirror. Well, the colour was still good, and, being of a satin-type material, it hadn't attracted the attention of any moths, and the creases would press out okay. It had a simple boat-shaped neckline, and drop-waisted full skirt—which she knew was horribly old-fashioned—but that was just too bad. It was this or nothing. As for her feet, the best she could do was wear her flat brown summer sandals.

Heaving a sigh, she stepped into the dress and zipped it up at the back. Well, it still fitted—that was something. But, gazing at herself honestly, she realised how naïve and—well…boring, she appeared. Impulsively, she shook her hair out from the band that held it back in a knot, and thought…no! That made her look like Alice in Wonderland! Well, there was no point standing there agonising, she thought. By the time she'd showered and pressed the dress His Majesty would be arriving!

She stopped dead in her tracks for a second. Was all this
really
happening? she asked herself. The whole day was like a long, disturbing dream—and it wasn't over yet!

At precisely eight o'clock, a discreet tap on the door announced Jed Hunter's arrival, and Cryssie hastily let herself out of the house before Polly could show any interest. She smiled briefly up at him as they went down the rather cracked and untidy garden path together, pulling her jacket protectively around her against the bitter wind.

‘I didn't ring the bell in case it woke Milo,' he said, as he handed her into the car.

‘Thanks,' she answered, privately surprised that with no family of his own he should be that thoughtful. She nestled into the luxury of the soft leather seat, putting her head back and letting out a sigh of pleasure. This was living, she thought—even if it was probably the only time she'd experience it. She'd never even sat in a car like this, never mind felt herself floating along the tarmac so effortlessly—so
importantly!

He glanced across at her as they gathered speed. ‘Are you sure you don't mind about tonight?' he asked. ‘About leaving your little boy with a minder, I mean?'

‘Oh, my sister's there. She lives with us. He'll be fine,' she added, closing her eyes momentarily, feeling a bit like Cinderella being taken to the ball. Except that at this stage of the plot she wasn't supposed to be being escorted by Prince Charming—that should come much later! That, however hard she tried to think of this evening as a business date, the fact that she was sitting close—very close—to probably the most handsome man she'd ever set eyes on made it difficult for her not to want to enjoy herself. Even if she
did
find him annoying and imperious. She could not deny experiencing a frisson, a sensation, as any female would, and she was suddenly startled by a certain lustful intensity! This was something very new to her, and she must stifle it at once, she told herself fiercely. Wasn't he the sort of man she would never again allow herself to feel anything for at all—ever?

She shifted in her seat and he turned briefly to look across.

‘Are you comfortable enough?' he asked. ‘Is the seat in the correct position for you? I can lower or raise it for you…'

‘No…no…That isn't necessary,' Cryssie said at once. ‘It's fine, really.'

He turned back to stare straight ahead, and Cryssie, looking at him covertly, was painfully aware of his hands, of his long fingers curled around the steering wheel, the strength of his taut thighs beneath the fine fabric of his evening trousers. She swallowed, trying to get a grip on this unlooked-for situation…and on her own senses! She didn't want to feel this curious mix of excitement and trepidation. She just wanted to feel
normal!
There promised to be enough upheaval in her life with everything going on at work. As for him,
he
would certainly not have the slightest interest in her as a woman—that was the most obvious statement of the century! He could have his pick of the crop, and was still unmarried, clearly taking his time over deciding which lucky female would eventually bear his children. It was plain that tonight he was putting business before pleasure, asking this little Miss Nobody—with, as he thought, an illegitimate child—to accompany him on this night of all nights.

Cryssie smiled inwardly. All his lady-friends, waiting hopefully by the phone for that longed-for invitation, would be disappointed! He was too interested in finding out more about the business he'd just paid good money for. That was what this evening was all about! And who better to spill the beans, to tell any unofficial secrets, than the employee he had so recently had a conversation with—the one who had proved unafraid to speak out?

Presently, he said, ‘You're unusually quiet this evening.'

‘It's been a long day. I'm tired,' she riposted defensively.

‘Of course…I'm sorry,' he said at once. ‘I should have thought. I'll buy you a pick-me-up shortly.' He smiled in the darkness. ‘I'd be very disappointed not to have the privilege of hearing your opinions this evening.'

Cryssie shuddered, but kept her cool. ‘Oh, you'll get those,' she replied stiffly. There was a muffled sound beside her, which she correctly interpreted as suppressed amusement.

Neither of them spoke again for a few moments, and Jed contemplated the hours ahead. He could be in the company of any number of beautiful women—yet he'd felt impelled to ask this creature to spend New Year's Eve with him! His eyes narrowed momentarily. He hoped the evening would be worth it…Maybe,
maybe,
it might prove even more useful than he'd thought at first.

‘Have you ever eaten at the Laurels before?' he asked, breaking the silence peremptorily, and making her start visibly.

‘No,' she answered truthfully. ‘Hydebound don't pay those sort of wages—or at least they didn't,' she added mischievously, and she saw the corner of his mouth tilt crookedly in the way she was beginning to recognize. But he said nothing, leaning forward to adjust something in front of him, the sudden movement causing a drift of his aftershave to tease her nostrils.

‘Well, I'm sure you won't be disappointed,' he said smoothly. ‘And by the end of this evening I hope we will both feel that we understand each other a little more, and that our time has not been wasted.'

The restaurant was an imposing-looking Georgian building in the local countryside, and they were met by the manager, who greeted Jed effusively as he took Cryssie's jacket from her.

‘Good evening, Mr Hunter,' he beamed, glancing covertly at Cryssie, taking in her appearance with one swift and critical glance. This was an unusual woman for one of the most dashing and important men on the planet to be escorting! Tonight of all nights! ‘Your usual table is ready for you,' the man added purringly.

Cryssie, intensely sensitive to any new surroundings, was immediately aware of the manager's reaction to her. She knew she couldn't possibly compare favourably with Jeremy Hunter's women friends, but she'd already made up her mind that she was not going to let any feelings of inferiority bother her tonight. She was here for a formal reason, and it didn't matter that any second glances they attracted were directed at the man sitting opposite her rather than at her. For he looked outstandingly handsome, she had to admit, the elegance of his dinner suit complementing his physique, his strong features, his glossy black hair. He must have women fawning around him all the time—though if he expected that from her he was going to be disappointed!

Champagne arrived as if by magic, and the waiter filled Cryssie's glass to the brim, before pouring half a glass for Jed.

‘Thanks, Simon,' Jed said easily, and the man moved away. He raised his flute, and looked at Cryssie, his sensuous eyes glittering in the candlelight. ‘Let's drink to Hydebound,' he said coolly, ‘and to a prosperous future for all of us.'