face remained carefully expressionless. This ability to hide her thoughts was yet one more reason she currently headed up the list of potential Unicorn scholarship candidates. ‘I’m going to bring my guest back to the flat, and I thought you might like to make yourself useful…’
If her face grew any tighter she would implode. He pressed on. ‘Make sure the wine is chilled, prepare a few canapés, that sort of thing?’
He could see her feminist principles raging against her lust to win the scholarship. He could also see her wanting to take him by the throat and choke him. And throughout all this they continued to stare at each other impassively.
Easing her neck, Carly fought to stay calm. ‘Canapés?’ She could only comfort herself with the thought that the reports of her numerous culinary disasters hadn’t reached Lorenzo’s ears yet.
The successful candidate for the Unicorn scholarship will be both resourceful and creative…
‘Of course, no problem,’ she replied.
‘That’s good,’ he said, relaxing. ‘You might want to sit in when my guest arrives as we’ll be discussing the possibility of extending the reach of the scholarship. It’s such a great opportunity.’
To make canapés? Carly thought, staring back without expression.
‘As I’m sure you’ll agree?’ Lorenzo challenged, searching her gaze for the slightest hint of insubordination. ‘Canapés at eight, then?’
Why not? She had no intention of being tripped up by a cocktail sausage now.
CHAPTER FIVE
CARLY GAZED AT the work she had completed with satisfaction. It felt good to be properly organised , almost like the old times before Lorenzo had exploded onto the scene. She had compiled three lists, two of which, being dry and sensible, were the ones for Lorenzo.
The Christmas Party list would show him how bookings for various services were working out as well as the ordering system she was using—everything except food was either on a short-term hire agreement, or a sale and return basis, so he could find no room for concern there. The Christmas Party Guidelines for her colleagues would appear equally sensible—because, of course, Lorenzo wouldn’t be seeing the copy she’d actually send to her colleagues, or, indeed, her own copy, upon which she had added some rather graphic doodles.
In addition to this she had stuck a Post-It note to the desk on which she had scrawled, ‘Canapés at eight!’ To date she had made no entries to suggest what form these canapés might take. But there was plenty of time to worry about that. Canapés were tiny, which suggested they were easy to prepare. It was more important to concentrate on her doodles, which in Carly’s modest opinion were starting to rival the illustrations in the Kama Sutra. Well, a girl could dream, couldn’t she? And with Lorenzo tied up in court she had hours in which to indulge every flight of erotic fancy she’d ever had…
By noon Carly’s Christmas Party list had a pleasing line of ticks down the side of the page. Father Christmas had been booked, along with a couple of elves, and even on such a slim budget she had managed to organise good, wholesome food, that could best be described as interesting. Or, at least, she hoped it would prove so to the sophisticated palate of those attending. Anyway, she liked it, and it was in line with the theme she had chosen, so Lorenzo could hardly complain.
When it came to the advisory notes for her colleagues she had thought long and hard before deciding on something they could stomach. She knew Lorenzo had set her up for a fall and she had every intention of staying upright.
With this intention in mind she kept the tone light, listing the warnings beneath a picture of Lorenzo looking suitably stern and yet rather stunning in his wig and gown. Her fellow pupils would get the joke. Especially after she’d added some doodles to their list—the one
If her face grew any tighter she would implode. He pressed on. ‘Make sure the wine is chilled, prepare a few canapés, that sort of thing?’
He could see her feminist principles raging against her lust to win the scholarship. He could also see her wanting to take him by the throat and choke him. And throughout all this they continued to stare at each other impassively.
Easing her neck, Carly fought to stay calm. ‘Canapés?’ She could only comfort herself with the thought that the reports of her numerous culinary disasters hadn’t reached Lorenzo’s ears yet.
The successful candidate for the Unicorn scholarship will be both resourceful and creative…
‘Of course, no problem,’ she replied.
‘That’s good,’ he said, relaxing. ‘You might want to sit in when my guest arrives as we’ll be discussing the possibility of extending the reach of the scholarship. It’s such a great opportunity.’
To make canapés? Carly thought, staring back without expression.
‘As I’m sure you’ll agree?’ Lorenzo challenged, searching her gaze for the slightest hint of insubordination. ‘Canapés at eight, then?’
Why not? She had no intention of being tripped up by a cocktail sausage now.
CHAPTER FIVE
CARLY GAZED AT the work she had completed with satisfaction. It felt good to be properly organised , almost like the old times before Lorenzo had exploded onto the scene. She had compiled three lists, two of which, being dry and sensible, were the ones for Lorenzo.
The Christmas Party list would show him how bookings for various services were working out as well as the ordering system she was using—everything except food was either on a short-term hire agreement, or a sale and return basis, so he could find no room for concern there. The Christmas Party Guidelines for her colleagues would appear equally sensible—because, of course, Lorenzo wouldn’t be seeing the copy she’d actually send to her colleagues, or, indeed, her own copy, upon which she had added some rather graphic doodles.
In addition to this she had stuck a Post-It note to the desk on which she had scrawled, ‘Canapés at eight!’ To date she had made no entries to suggest what form these canapés might take. But there was plenty of time to worry about that. Canapés were tiny, which suggested they were easy to prepare. It was more important to concentrate on her doodles, which in Carly’s modest opinion were starting to rival the illustrations in the Kama Sutra. Well, a girl could dream, couldn’t she? And with Lorenzo tied up in court she had hours in which to indulge every flight of erotic fancy she’d ever had…
By noon Carly’s Christmas Party list had a pleasing line of ticks down the side of the page. Father Christmas had been booked, along with a couple of elves, and even on such a slim budget she had managed to organise good, wholesome food, that could best be described as interesting. Or, at least, she hoped it would prove so to the sophisticated palate of those attending. Anyway, she liked it, and it was in line with the theme she had chosen, so Lorenzo could hardly complain.
When it came to the advisory notes for her colleagues she had thought long and hard before deciding on something they could stomach. She knew Lorenzo had set her up for a fall and she had every intention of staying upright.
With this intention in mind she kept the tone light, listing the warnings beneath a picture of Lorenzo looking suitably stern and yet rather stunning in his wig and gown. Her fellow pupils would get the joke. Especially after she’d added some doodles to their list—the one
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