to a professional agreement,’ she defended.
‘And the money was too good to turn your back on?’
‘There is that, of course.’ Her eyes were very steady as she looked at him because she was damned if she would let him make her feel bad about needing the money. What would
he
know about pinching and scraping and trying to get creditors off your back? ‘And I’m not in the habit of letting people down.’
‘I’m impressed,’ he murmured, noticing the almost imperceptible elevation of her chin and hearing the sudden note of pride which had entered her voice.
‘That wasn’t my intention.’
‘No?’
‘No,’ she answered. ‘I’m simply here to do a job and to do it to the best of my ability.’
And judging by her appearance, it occurred to him that she might be speaking the truth—because she didn’t look as he had been expecting her to look. Hadn’t he thought she might play the vamp? For her hair to be tumbling in provocative tendrils around her face and her skirt suddenly to have shrunk by a couple of sizes? Something more befitting her status as the kind of woman who was out for everything she could get than a lowly little waitress. But she looked nothing like that. He frowned. Her face was almost bare of make up, her hair was tugged back into a functional ponytail—and surely an off-duty nun would have found no fault in the respectable length of her dull black skirt.
And wasn’t it ironic that her very lack of adornment was only increasing his desire for her instead of diminishing it? So that for a moment he felt irritated that he couldn’t just pull her into his arms and kiss her and have done with it. That he was going to have to endure this charade of her waiting at his table in order to bed her. Reluctantly, he elevated his gaze to her face.
‘You look very…professional—although your uniform isn’t the most alluring I’ve ever seen,’ he remarked as, with another kick of surprise, he noted her soft rise of colour. ‘And now I’ve made you blush.’
His comment made her colour deepen even more. ‘I blush at the drop of a hat,’ she admitted.
‘Really?’ He slanted her a mocking glance. ‘And yet I didn’t really have you down as the shy, retiring type.’
Zara remembered the way she’d responded to him in the back of his car—like some kind of insatiable maneater,devouring his lips and letting him suckle on her breasts when they’d only just met. Could she blame him if he’d leapt to the wrong conclusion about her? Feeling wrong-footed and with no way of defending herself, Zara heard the sound of approaching footsteps with a sigh of relief.
‘No time to stand around chatting,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I think your guests are about to make an appearance. I’d better go and start opening the champagne.’
His gaze held hers and in that moment he silently cursed his guests. ‘I suppose you must,’ he said reluctantly.
Zara reached for the champagne bottle as if it were a lifeline. Why the hell was he giving her that sexy sizzle of a stare? Hadn’t he heard her when she’d told him in London that this was going to be a purely professional engagement—or did men like him simply ride roughshod over someone else’s wishes if they didn’t happen to coincide with their own? And if that was the case, how the hell was she going to deal with it when she found him so completely irresistible? When part of her
wanted
him to tease her and mock her like that, while sexual tension fizzed in the air around them.
Tearing gold foil from the bottle and easing out the cork with a quiet pop, she saw a couple walk out onto the terrace and began to study them with covert interest. She’d wondered what Nikolai’s house guests might be like—but this mismatched pair weren’t at all what she’d been expecting.
The man was short, rotund and aged about fifty and, despite his loose linen clothes, kept dabbing at his damp neck with a linen handkerchief. But it was his girlfriend who
‘And the money was too good to turn your back on?’
‘There is that, of course.’ Her eyes were very steady as she looked at him because she was damned if she would let him make her feel bad about needing the money. What would
he
know about pinching and scraping and trying to get creditors off your back? ‘And I’m not in the habit of letting people down.’
‘I’m impressed,’ he murmured, noticing the almost imperceptible elevation of her chin and hearing the sudden note of pride which had entered her voice.
‘That wasn’t my intention.’
‘No?’
‘No,’ she answered. ‘I’m simply here to do a job and to do it to the best of my ability.’
And judging by her appearance, it occurred to him that she might be speaking the truth—because she didn’t look as he had been expecting her to look. Hadn’t he thought she might play the vamp? For her hair to be tumbling in provocative tendrils around her face and her skirt suddenly to have shrunk by a couple of sizes? Something more befitting her status as the kind of woman who was out for everything she could get than a lowly little waitress. But she looked nothing like that. He frowned. Her face was almost bare of make up, her hair was tugged back into a functional ponytail—and surely an off-duty nun would have found no fault in the respectable length of her dull black skirt.
And wasn’t it ironic that her very lack of adornment was only increasing his desire for her instead of diminishing it? So that for a moment he felt irritated that he couldn’t just pull her into his arms and kiss her and have done with it. That he was going to have to endure this charade of her waiting at his table in order to bed her. Reluctantly, he elevated his gaze to her face.
‘You look very…professional—although your uniform isn’t the most alluring I’ve ever seen,’ he remarked as, with another kick of surprise, he noted her soft rise of colour. ‘And now I’ve made you blush.’
His comment made her colour deepen even more. ‘I blush at the drop of a hat,’ she admitted.
‘Really?’ He slanted her a mocking glance. ‘And yet I didn’t really have you down as the shy, retiring type.’
Zara remembered the way she’d responded to him in the back of his car—like some kind of insatiable maneater,devouring his lips and letting him suckle on her breasts when they’d only just met. Could she blame him if he’d leapt to the wrong conclusion about her? Feeling wrong-footed and with no way of defending herself, Zara heard the sound of approaching footsteps with a sigh of relief.
‘No time to stand around chatting,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I think your guests are about to make an appearance. I’d better go and start opening the champagne.’
His gaze held hers and in that moment he silently cursed his guests. ‘I suppose you must,’ he said reluctantly.
Zara reached for the champagne bottle as if it were a lifeline. Why the hell was he giving her that sexy sizzle of a stare? Hadn’t he heard her when she’d told him in London that this was going to be a purely professional engagement—or did men like him simply ride roughshod over someone else’s wishes if they didn’t happen to coincide with their own? And if that was the case, how the hell was she going to deal with it when she found him so completely irresistible? When part of her
wanted
him to tease her and mock her like that, while sexual tension fizzed in the air around them.
Tearing gold foil from the bottle and easing out the cork with a quiet pop, she saw a couple walk out onto the terrace and began to study them with covert interest. She’d wondered what Nikolai’s house guests might be like—but this mismatched pair weren’t at all what she’d been expecting.
The man was short, rotund and aged about fifty and, despite his loose linen clothes, kept dabbing at his damp neck with a linen handkerchief. But it was his girlfriend who
Similar Books
