her table, all height and muscles and testosterone. She took in the jeans, white T-shirt, brown leather jacket. He was freshly shaved, hair tousled, energy rolling off him in waves. Clementine didn’t look at him so much as collide with his deep green Tartar eyes, and her heart began to do a thuddy thing that made it hard to hear over the pounding of blood in her ears.
‘Oh, hi.’ She endeavoured to sound casual.
He gestured abruptly to the waiter. ‘What would you like to eat,
kisa
?’
‘Oh, I can’t stay,’ said Clementine, getting herself together. ‘I’m supposed to be at my job, and you’re late, so I can only give you five minutes.’
He dragged a chair up close to her and straddled it. As he dropped in front of her she gave an involuntary jump. His sudden physical proximity made it very difficult to hold her ground and her first instinct was to retreat back in her chair. He smiled knowingly, as if her reticence was exactly what he was after.
‘Give me five minutes, then.’
Unaccountably she flashed back to how last night had ended. Even now her cheeks grew warm as she remembered Luke’s condoms, like neon signs pulsing on her bedside table. He probably hadn’t thought anything of it, but she had blushed, and he’d certainly seen that, and she had spent last night tossing and turning—convinced he’d seen through her to the gauche girl she sometimes felt herself still to be. That was before Joe Carnegie had torn the scales from her eyes.
He was studying her face, her pink cheeks, lingering on her mouth. ‘You are a gorgeous woman, Clementine.’
She’d been told that before, although it wasn’t strictly true. She was far from being a beauty. Her nose was slightly too long, her chin a little pointed, and she had too many freckles…
‘Am I?’ She made herself hold his gaze. ‘Is that what you came to tell me?’
‘I haven’t stopped thinking about you.’
Oh, she liked that. ‘I’m flattered.’
His eyes were knowing, full of promise. They were playing some sort of game, she recognised, except she didn’t know the rules.
‘I’ve got a proposal for you,
kisa
.’
Clementine gave an internal sigh of relief. Mentally she began shifting her entire afternoon. Surely she could carve out a few hours before the launch, when all the work had been done, and she
had
planned to take a nap and get ready for the evening.
She really,
really
wanted to spend more time with him.
Serge studied her expectant expression and the rest of her, liking what he saw. She was all dressed up this morning, in a dark blue suit, but managed by dint of the pinched waist of her jacket and the cling of her pencil skirt to look outrageously sexy. In a classy sort of way. This look played havoc with his hormones in a way the tight leather skirt hadn’t. He liked her all covered up. It made it more of a challenge to imagine what was underneath.
Well, here went nothing.
‘I’ve got to fly to New York City tomorrow on business, I’d like you to come with me.’
Clementine felt as if she’d been slammed at speed into a wall.
‘I’m staying in the penthouse suite at the Four Seasons fora week. I think you’d enjoy yourself, Clementine—a little pampering, some nice restaurants, buying you some pretty dresses, see a show…me.’
Him. Clementine felt sick. She was thrust back in time to Joe’s smooth delivery as she had bleated across the table at him, ‘But I don’t want you to buy me a place to live. Anyway, I have a place to live.’ And he’d frowned and told her he wasn’t spending his free time in London shagging her in a shared flat.
That brutal. And that fast she’d lost all her girlish illusions. The next morning the newspaper had shredded her self-respect.
‘I understand it’s presumptuous, but I need to be there, and I think we have something, Clementine. I’d like to explore that.’
She picked herself up and brushed herself off. ‘Would you?’ Her voice came out like a shard of
‘Oh, hi.’ She endeavoured to sound casual.
He gestured abruptly to the waiter. ‘What would you like to eat,
kisa
?’
‘Oh, I can’t stay,’ said Clementine, getting herself together. ‘I’m supposed to be at my job, and you’re late, so I can only give you five minutes.’
He dragged a chair up close to her and straddled it. As he dropped in front of her she gave an involuntary jump. His sudden physical proximity made it very difficult to hold her ground and her first instinct was to retreat back in her chair. He smiled knowingly, as if her reticence was exactly what he was after.
‘Give me five minutes, then.’
Unaccountably she flashed back to how last night had ended. Even now her cheeks grew warm as she remembered Luke’s condoms, like neon signs pulsing on her bedside table. He probably hadn’t thought anything of it, but she had blushed, and he’d certainly seen that, and she had spent last night tossing and turning—convinced he’d seen through her to the gauche girl she sometimes felt herself still to be. That was before Joe Carnegie had torn the scales from her eyes.
He was studying her face, her pink cheeks, lingering on her mouth. ‘You are a gorgeous woman, Clementine.’
She’d been told that before, although it wasn’t strictly true. She was far from being a beauty. Her nose was slightly too long, her chin a little pointed, and she had too many freckles…
‘Am I?’ She made herself hold his gaze. ‘Is that what you came to tell me?’
‘I haven’t stopped thinking about you.’
Oh, she liked that. ‘I’m flattered.’
His eyes were knowing, full of promise. They were playing some sort of game, she recognised, except she didn’t know the rules.
‘I’ve got a proposal for you,
kisa
.’
Clementine gave an internal sigh of relief. Mentally she began shifting her entire afternoon. Surely she could carve out a few hours before the launch, when all the work had been done, and she
had
planned to take a nap and get ready for the evening.
She really,
really
wanted to spend more time with him.
Serge studied her expectant expression and the rest of her, liking what he saw. She was all dressed up this morning, in a dark blue suit, but managed by dint of the pinched waist of her jacket and the cling of her pencil skirt to look outrageously sexy. In a classy sort of way. This look played havoc with his hormones in a way the tight leather skirt hadn’t. He liked her all covered up. It made it more of a challenge to imagine what was underneath.
Well, here went nothing.
‘I’ve got to fly to New York City tomorrow on business, I’d like you to come with me.’
Clementine felt as if she’d been slammed at speed into a wall.
‘I’m staying in the penthouse suite at the Four Seasons fora week. I think you’d enjoy yourself, Clementine—a little pampering, some nice restaurants, buying you some pretty dresses, see a show…me.’
Him. Clementine felt sick. She was thrust back in time to Joe’s smooth delivery as she had bleated across the table at him, ‘But I don’t want you to buy me a place to live. Anyway, I have a place to live.’ And he’d frowned and told her he wasn’t spending his free time in London shagging her in a shared flat.
That brutal. And that fast she’d lost all her girlish illusions. The next morning the newspaper had shredded her self-respect.
‘I understand it’s presumptuous, but I need to be there, and I think we have something, Clementine. I’d like to explore that.’
She picked herself up and brushed herself off. ‘Would you?’ Her voice came out like a shard of
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