Pride After Her Fall
Lucy Ellis
The secrets behind her smile Bankrupt, homeless and alone, Lorelai St James is an heiress on the edge. Yet she hides her desperation behind her glossy blonde hair and even brighter smile. Getting lectured on her driving by a hot-tempered and ridiculously attractive stranger will not be what shatters her carefully crafted fa?ade!Legendary Australian racing driver Nash Blue knows a thing or two about pride and sees straight through Lorelais polished front. Her vulnerabilities play havoc with his concentration and, never shy of a challenge, he begins his biggest yet: unwrapping the real Lorelai St JamesLucys ability to weave a story together keeps me hooked to the final page. More please! Alice, 31, Luton
Weve got a lot in common. He settled back, angled in his chair, all shoulders and lean, muscular grace. I like to compete. Youre a serious trophy.
Pardon me?
He gave her a lazy once over she should have found insulting after the trophy description, instead she felt it like a direct hit to her sleeping libido.
Youre smart and seriously sexy and I havent been bored since I sat down with you. Like I said, youre a serious trophy.
Lorelei inhaled sharply.
She knew it, this was how some men saw an attractive woman, she had just never met a man who had the nerve to say it to her in so many words.
Nash, a trophy is an inanimate object you sit on a shelf.
A trophy can be anything you want to win, he countered, sitting forward and Lorelei had to remind herself not to edge back. He emanated thumping male entitlement. I dont get in the race, Lorelei, unless Im confident of the outcome.
For a breathless moment she considered asking him exactly how confident he was of her? But deep down she feared the answer.
How am I doing so far?
Lorelei paused long enough to take another sip of her drink.
Oh, I think youre in the race.
About the Author
LUCY ELLIS has four loves in life: books, expensive lingerie, vintage films and big, gorgeous men who have to duck going through doorways. Weaving aspects of them into her fiction is the best part of being a romance writer. Lucy lives in a small cottage in the foothills outside Melbourne.
Recent titles by the same author:
THE MAN SHE SHOULDNT CRAVE
UNTOUCHED BY HIS DIAMONDS
INNOCENT IN THE IVORY TOWER
Did you know this title is also available as an eBook?
Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
Pride After Her Fall
Lucy Ellis
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Bridie
CHAPTER ONE
NASH as a rule didnt court publicity, so meeting with a publicist went against the grain. But this was for a charity event and he couldnt very well say no.
Ill meet her at the American Bar in the Hotel de Paris.
He checked his watch as he approached his low slung Bugatti Veyron.
Ill be with Demarche until one. I can give her a couple of minutes in the bar. Ill try to make it, but she may have to cool her heels.
It was one of the few perks of fame. People would wait. He hooked the door of the Veyron and idled for a moment, looking out over the calm Mediterranean water.
Cullinan was talking about seating.
No, mate, dont book a table. This is a five-minute job. Nobody will be sitting down.
Blues management team was headed up by John Cullinan, a savvy Irishman Nash had used in his early racing career when he was thrust onto the world stage. John had protected him from the worst of the media for over a decade and he trusted him to deal fairly with the public and handle the professionals.
Hed need him in the coming weeks. There was already intense speculation about his future. He hadnt said a word during the running of the Grand Prix here in Monaco in May, but somehow just his presence trackside with current Eagle heavyweight Antonio Abruzzi had sent the media into a frenzy. Not that it took much. Meat in the water and the piranhas swarmed. That was why this meeting with the construction firm Eagle was taking place in the privacy of a hotel room and security barracudas on both sides had elaborate lock-down procedures in place.
He ended the call and jumped into the Veyron, keen to get out of town.
The flip of a wrist and he had the engine purring. His deep-set blue-grey eyes, which one female sports commentator had called lethal blue as if they not only needed colour coding but branding, assessed the traffic and he pulled away from outside the corporate offices of the business that had been his heart and soul for five years.
He had just tied up a deal with Swiss-based car manufacturer Avedon to produce Blue 22, and whilst every vehicle design was a rush this was the car hed first conceptualised back in his racing days, when nobody would have taken him seriously if hed spilled his guts on his future plans.
Fortunately hed never been overly chatty. Being raised by a mean drunk whod seen a kids prattle as an excuse to deal out backhanders had bred in him the habit of silence. To the public he was notoriously impenetrable. Self-contained, one journalist reported. A cold sonafabitch, countered a disenchanted former lover.
But, however else he was perceived, the world took him seriously nowadays even when they werent intrusively curious. At thirty-four, hed survived as a professional in one of the most dangerous sports in the world for almost a decade before retiring in a blaze of gloryand unlike so many sports pros hed parlayed his expertise and a passionate love of design into a second career.
An extremely successful second career.
One that overshadowed whatever fame hed had as a driverwhich had been his intention. He could command any price for his work and right now he was in demandat the top of an elite field of specialists.
Yet he was restless, there was no denying that, and several times in the last year hed caught himself asking the fateful question: What next?
But he knew the answer to that question. It was why the Eagle head honchos had flown in last night.
Yeah, he wanted back in the game, but this time on his own terms. His twenties had gone past in a rush of track groupies and speed as hed raced against the worlds best and outraced his own demons. Hed known when it was time to stop. He also knew this time it would be different. He wasnt a boy any more. His feelings about racing had undergone a change. He had nothing to prove.
The road cleared. He changed gear and took off up the hill.
He had a date this morning up on the Point, with a genuine glamour-girl car who had it all over this newer model he was driving, and even the stumbling block of dealing with meetings all afternoon couldnt dull the edge of what promised to be a very nice find. She was reported to be a sweet little number, with curves aplenty, an all-original and he was finally going to see what the fuss was about.
Shed only recently come on the market, and Nash knew hed have to move quickly, but he didnt buy without handling the merchandise.
Hed flown in to Monaco that morning after twenty-four hours in the air to hear the news that the owner had loaned her out but shed be available to look at this afternoon. With the morning to kill hed decided to take the opportunity to run up the hill and possibly rescue the poor thing from whatever indignities had been visited upon her overnight.
The place overlooked the baynice and exclusive. But what address wasnt exclusive in this town? The house had a little fame for being a silent-film actresss hideaway in the twenties and he was a little curious to see it. Hed driven past many times, but this was the first occasion hed had to turn in, idling at the gateswhich, to his surprise, were wide open. Security was usually pretty tight in this neck of the woods.
As he eased the sports car down the linden lined gravel drive he slowed to a creep, taking in the state of disrepair. Masses of flowering bougainvillaea couldnt hide the fact that the old place needed a face-job.
And then he saw her.
Nash barely had his car at a standstill before he was out, slamming the door, advancing on the object of his desire.
Sticking out of a flowerbed.
A 1931 Bugatti T51, currently upended in a parterre of small flowered bushes. As if to add to the indignity one of its doors was hanging open.
Every muscle in his body stiffened. He wasnt angry. He was beyond anger.
He was appalled.
But he was a man who had made self-control a byword. He reined in the furyknew it needed to be directed where it could do some good.
Coming towards him was a rotund man in garden greens, shaking his arms towards the sky as if inviting divine intercession.
Monsieur! Un accident avec la voiture!
Yeah, that was one way of putting it.
And that was when the shouting started.
CHAPTER TWO
LORELEI St James came awake with a languorous stretch, sliding her bare arms over silken sheets, revelling sensuously in the luxurious comfort. She made a mmph sound, rolled over and buried her face in the pillow, prepared to sleep away the day, if that were possibleonly to hear a deep male voice raised in anger somewhere outside her bedroom terrace.
Ignore it, she decided, snuggling in.
The voice lifted.
She snuggled a bit more.
More shouts.
She wrinkled her nose.
A crash.
What now?
Sighing, Lorelei pushed her satin sleep mask haphazardly up her forehead and winced as she copped an eyeful of bright Mediterranean sunshine. The room did a rinse-cycle spin around herno doubt the product of too much champagne, inadequate sleep and enough financial trouble to sink this house around her ears.
She shoved thoughts about the latter to the back of her mind even as her heart began to beat the band, and she felt about for a glass of water to ease the Sahara Desert that was her throat this morning. She was greeted by a clatter as she clumsily knocked her watch, her cell phone and a tangle of assorted jewellery to the stone floor.
Easing herself into a sitting position, pushing the fall of chin-length blond curls out of her eyes, Lorelei wrinkled her nose and held on to the mattress as the room did another gentle spin.
I will never drink again, she vowed. Although if I do, she revised, only champagne cocktails and at a pinch G&Ts.
As if sensing she was at her most vulnerable, the phone on the floor gave a judder and began to vibrate. Her heart did that annoying leap and race thing again. She made a pained face. When the phone rang nowadays there was usually somebody angry on the other end
To dissuade her from getting out of bed it stopped, but the muted sound of male voices coming up from below her terrace lifted to a crescendo. This was what had woken her. Men shouting. Some sort of altercation going on.
Surely she didnt have to deal with this, too? Not today
But without the catering staff from last night there was only Giorgio and his wife, Terese, and it was unfair to expect them to deal with interlopers. Theyd had a lot of them in the past few weeksall of them creditors, hunting her down now that her father Raymond was banged up in a low-security prison.
As if she had a cent to her name after two years of legal fees.
It wasnt that she was exactly ignoring her problemsshe preferred to think of it as delegating responsibility. Shed deal with the phone calls later, and the emails and the lawyers who wanted her signature on a mountain of documents. Not today. Maybe tomorrow. It was just such a nice day. The sun was shining. She shouldnt ruin it. One more day in paradise and then shed pay the piper.
Just one more day
And then she remembered. Not only did she have a client booked in at noon, she had an appointment this afternoon at the Hotel de Paris. It was about her grandmothers charity: the Aviary Foundation. Every year they hosted an event to raise money for cancer research.
This year the feature was a one-day vintage car rally, and a famous racing driver would be giving kids struggling with cancer the pleasure of a spin around the track in a high-powered vehicle. Their usual publicist was ill, and the foundations president had personally asked her to do the meet-and-greet with their guest celebrity.
She squeezed her temples. She hadnt even done any research. What if he expected her to know his stats? She could barely balance her own chequebook
Last year they had lined up a Hollywood actor who famously had a home here in Monaco. Now, that one would have been easywatch a few films, gush Everyone knew actors had egos like mountains. Frowning, she contemplated racing-car drivers. Werent they kind of like cowboys? She pictured swagger and ego in equal dimensions. Blah.
Reaching for the eau de nil silk evening gown crumpled at the foot of her bed, Lorelei tugged it over her head. Really, she was happy to do the meet-and-greetshed do anything the Aviary Foundation asked of herjust not today
She gave a shriek as something small and furry tunnelled its way onto her lap, claws digging into her flesh.
Fifi, she admonished, pulling the silk to her waist, behave, ma chere.
Lifting her beloved baby, she buried her face in a ball of white fluff.
Now, be good and stay here. Maman has things to attend to.
Fifi sat up expectantly in the pool of white silk sheets, curious eyes on her mistress as she opened the French doors and went to step outside. Lorelei doubled back as she remembered she wasnt wearing any underwear. She wasnt prudish about her body, but she knew Giorgio was conservative and she didnt want to embarrass him unnecessarily.
Belting her robe at the waist, Lorelei wandered out onto the terrace. It was going to be another one of those perfect early September days, and she inhaled the briny breeze filled with lavender and rosemary scents from the garden. She most definitely didnt want to go and sort this out. As she weaved her way down the stone steps, pulling her sunglasses into place, she told herself that whoever it was couldnt do anything worse than yell at her.
But it wasnt easy being shouted at, and she wondered if she was ever going to become inured to other peoples anger. In her defence, shed been facing more than her fair share latelyand it wasnt getting any easier. Maybe she was suffering from overload, because this morning it felt harder than ever. But Giorgio didnt deserve this either, and the buck had to stop somewhere.
It would just be nice if for once it didnt stop with her.
Lorelei saw the Bugatti first and her heart sank. How on earth had it ended up in the garden? On second thoughts, she had a pretty good idea
And then she saw the man who had disturbed her slumber.
He was She was
Lorelei was vaguely aware that her mouth had formed a little oh of wonder. In the next instant she remembered that she hadnt run a brush through her hair, she wasnt wearing any make-up and her panties were upstairs.
Too late now. Hed spotted her.
She couldnt do anything about her wrinkled evening gown, but she smoothed her sleep-mussed hair, glad of the shadeswhich this morning were hiding a thousand sins. She tried to remember that even if she wasnt looking her best she wasnt without her own certain charm.
Besides, men were so easy.
He headed over, all six foot forever of him, with shoulders that would have served a linebacker, a deep chest, a lean waist, tight hips and long, powerful legsand one of those classically handsome faces that made her think of old-time movie stars.
Lorelei knew better than to be a sitting target. She took the initiative and approached the Bugatti, giving her scowling uninvited guest her back view, which she knewthanks to riding and an hour a day on her Stairmasterwasnt bad, and came up with her best line.
Goodness me, she drawled, theres a car in my rose bushes.
On the other hand, maybe humour hadnt been the best direction to take this in. As she listened to the crunch of gravelbig, heavy male footsteps coming up behind herLorelei experienced that sinking feeling: the one that told her shed read the situation all wrong.
Giorgios expression told her to duck and cover, but after a brief, desperate glance at the older man she decided to stay where she was. It wasnt her style to cut and run, and shed come this farshe just needed to brazen it out. And the guy had stopped shouting, which was encouraging.
Are you responsible for this?
Lorelei took in three things. He was Australian, he had a voice that made Russell Crowe sound like a choirboy, andas she turned around and looked up into a set masculine facehe clearly wasnt in any mood to be amused or charmed. She couldnt blame him. The car did look pretty bad.
Are you? he repeated, snapping off his aviators and revealing a pair of spectacular eyesnavy blue rimmed with grey, surrounded by dense, thick, dark lashes.
Those eyes. They were sort of amazing. Lorelei couldnt help gazing helplessly back.
Except they pinned her like a blade to a dissection board. She could almost feel him deciding which part of her to excise first. She came back to earth with a thump and tried to ignore the pinch in her chest. It was a look she was becoming depressingly familiar with of late, and it didnt mean anything, she told herself. She would have thought shed be used to it by now.
He shoved the aviators into the back pocket of his jeans and settled his arms by his sidesstance widened, pure masculine intimidation.
Anything to say for yourself?
He was pumping out lots of frustrated testosterone, which was making her a little nervous, but she couldnt really blame him. He wanted another man to punch on the nose and hed got her.
He clearly didnt know what to do about that.
She lifted a trembling hand and smoothed down her hair.
Are you high, lady?
Lorelei was so busy staying her ground that his questions hadnt quite penetrated, but now that he was turning away the last one landed on her with a thump.
Pardon?
But the guy was already focussing his entire attention back on the car, his hands on those lean, muscled hips of his as he eyed the Bugatti nose-deep in the rose bushes.
Giorgio was muttering in Italian, and the guy said something to him in his own language. Before her eyes the men appeared to be bonding over their shared outrage about the car. Freed from that penetrating stare, Lorelei frowned.
Well, really.
This wasnt how the man-meets-Lorelei scenario was supposed to play out. Her Italian was minimal, at best, and she didnt like the feeling of being forcibly held at bay by her inability to understand what was being said.
She was also a little piqued at being ignored.
And she most definitely didnt like being intimidated.
She cocked a hip, one slender hand resting just below her waist.
So, do you think you can extract it before it does any more damage to my flowers?
Giorgio muttered something like, Madonna!
Goodnow shed get a little action.
The mans broad shoulders grew taut, and as he turned around she felt her bravado flicker uneasily. His movements were alarmingly deliberateas if this was his estate, Giorgio his employee and she was trespassing on his land. A stone-cold stare slammed into her. He suddenly seemed awfully big, and Lorelei knew in that instant he wasnt amused, he wasnt charmed and he wasnt going to be easy.
As far as Im concerned, lady, he said, his expression giving no ground, youre screwed.
Her reaction was fierce and immediate. She hated this feeling. Shed been dealing with it for too long. It felt as if all shed done lately was shoulder the blame. So this time it was her fault, but for some reason his anger felt disproportionate and just plain unfair. It was too much, coming on top of everything else.
Who cared about a silly car when her life was coming apart at the seams?
So she did what she always did when a man challenged her, called her to account or tried to make himself king of her mountain. She brought out the big guns. The ones shed learned from her beloved, irresponsible father.
Wit and sex appeal.
Lorelei dipped her glasses and gave him full wattage.
I can hardly wait, she purred.
CHAPTER THREE
FROM her rumpled appearance she had clearly just rolled out of bed, and for one out-of-bounds moment Nash had a strong urge to roll her back into it.
Hardly surprising. She was a striking-looking woman who exuded a sultry, knowing sensuality that could have been a combination of her looks and the way she moved her body and displayed it, but he sensed came from the essence of who she was.
In another era she would have embodied the romantic idea of a courtesan. A woman who required a great deal of money to keep the shine on her silky curls, the glow in her honeyed skin and her eyes from straying to the next main chance.
Yeahanother time and another place this could go down a lot differently.
A man like him a woman like her
But not today.
Not now.
And it didnt have a lot to do with the car.
With a media circus about to start up around him again, this smouldering blonde had a little bit too much attitude to burn. He might as well slap a big no-go sticker on that shapely ass of hers. She fairly neon-glowed with sex of a crazy, messy kind, and tempted as he was he couldnt afford to be indiscriminatenot this close to race-start. Hed do well to remember that.
Although his first impression of this woman had been of something quite different. When shed first emerged for a timeless instant hed seen only a tall, delicately built girl as graceful and hesitant as a mountain deer. Shed given him pause. For a moment there he hadnt wanted to shift a muscle in case he scared her off.
Then shed looked right at him and headed for the Bugatti.
And right now her hands were on her hips and the glamour-girl in her was in full flow. Which was when he noticed something rather more down to earth. She wasnt wearing much. Or rather what she was wearing was advertising the lack of anything else.
Trying to be a gentleman, he dragged his attention upwards. But he neednt have bothered. She was clearly un-fazed, and his cynicism about who she was and the price she put on herself lodged into placebecause, despite his initial impression of something better, blondie was pure South of France glamour. If he upended her she probably had Made on the Riviera stamped on the soles of her pretty bare feet.
For a moment shed looked a little thrown. He didnt know if she was embarrassed to be caught out or simply defensive because she didnt like being in the wrong. Frankly, he didnt care.
He cared about the car.
He whipped out his cell, punched in a number.
As far as Im concerned, lady, youve committed a felony. That car is a work of art and a treasure, and youve trashed it.
She dragged off the huge sunglasses and a pair of pale-lashed doe eyes regarded him with a fair degree of astonishment. As if he were massively overreacting.
Nash knew he was staring back, but after the clothes and the attitude he just hadnt expected amber-brown, slightly tip-tilted, lovely The eyes of a gentle fawn.
I havent trashed anything, she countered in that low, sexy voice of hers.
Nash folded his arms, still shaking off the effect of those eyes. Somehow she was going to try and take the moral high ground. This should be good.
It might be a little scratchedthats all, she conceded. I suppose there are only a couple of thousand in the world
Eight, he said grimly. There are eight left in the world.
For a moment he fancied he saw her take a deep swallow, but she continued on blithely, like a pretty blonde lemming running over a cliff.
Seven more than this onenot such a catastrophe, non?
He stared at her.
Besides, its man-made. She smoothed her hands over the gentle swell of her hips, drawing attention to the obvious fact that she wasnt.
Nice move, doll, he drawled, following the movement of her hands. Youre very pretty, and Im sure youve got men lining up down the drive, but conscienceless women do nothing for me.
Her hands stilled on her hips. She looked slightly shocked, and for a moment he wondered if it was another ploy, then she lifted her chin and said coolly, Perhaps you can get the parts and fix it?
He could fix it?
Despite his irritation Nash almost laughed. Was she serious?
Yeah, that easy, he drawled, losing his battle not to pay too much attention to her silk nightgown, or something resembling one, and its faithful adherence to the lines of her body.
In particular when she movedas she was doing nowit became highly revealing. The silk clung to the long, slender length of her legs, the jut of streamlined hips and the delicate curve of her clearly braless breasts. His body shifted up to speed. She rivalled the Bugatti in terms of fine lines.
Hed lied. She did do something for him.
Looking for something? Her voice was suddenly sharp, and it had lost its sleepy sexiness.
Nash dragged his gaze from the view to find those amber eyes observing him rather shrewdly. Shed clearly ditched the princess-without-a-clue act.
Yeah, he responded dryly. A conscience.
She folded her arms, as if discovering some long-lost modesty.
Oh, its there, she drawled, you just have to rattle around for it a bit.
It was one hell of a line.
Against Nashs will a smile ghosted across his mouth. Not such a dumb blonde after all.
Ill take a pass.
Shame. This was said with a little toss of those curls as she walked towards the scene of her crime: the rear end of the Bugatti. But Im sure it can be fixed. Its only tipped into some roses bushes after alla little scratched paint at most. She looked at him over her shoulder. Nothing to get all worked up about.
Was it his heated imagination or in that moment did she drop her gaze infinitesimally below his belt?
He could hear one of his people speaking on the other end of the phone. He lifted it momentarily and said, Give us a minute, mate.
Have you changed your mind? She paused deliberatelyit could only be deliberate with this woman. About the car?
Nothings changed, sweetheart, except your fine day.
He watched the confidence dip slightly out of her body, and oddly it didnt give him the satisfaction he would have anticipated.
Expect a bill.
She notched up her chin. Can I expect anything else?
Yeaha lecture from your old man about why messing around with another guys wheels can get you into all sorts of trouble.
For a moment she looked at him as if she was going to say something about that, and for some reason he found he was hanging on her answer.
Instead she pushed back her tousled hair, gave him a distracted smile, as if she knew something he didnt, and headed back the way shed come.
He wouldnt have been a red-blooded man if his gaze hadnt moved inexorably to what he had noticed before: a very shapely behind. It was like a perfect peach, all high and perky under the clinging silk of whatever it was she was wearingor not wearing.
Vaguely he became aware that the old Italian bloke was glaring at him, and he dragged his eyes off the view.
The car is not so damaged you need to frighten her, grumbled the older man, and you can keep your eyes to yourself. Miss St James is a nice woman. She does not ask for all this trouble.
Nash could hear the disembodied voice coming from his cell, but he was slightly bemused by the lecture being delivered to him in hot, angry Italian. Who was this guy? Her father?
I know your type, with the flashy car. You want to find some loose woman, you go into town.
Loose woman? What was this? 1955?
No, mate, I just want the car. Fixed.
He was tempted to gun the Veyron and leave the Bugatti to its fate. But it went against the few principles he had left. The old girl was a treasure, and she deserved to be treated like the lady she was.
He settled the pick-up details and was strolling over to the Veyron when he was distracted by the very distinctive sound of high heels hitting flagstones.
Miss St James had re-emerged in silky white pants, which were swishing around her long legs, some sort of floaty, shimmery silky green top, which barely skimmed the tops of her arms and left her shoulders bare, and shed applied bright crimson lipstick to that smart mouth of hers. Although her eyes were impenetrable behind those ridiculously large sunglasses she had a faint smile on her lips as she headed over to a boat of a convertible parked by the garden wall. He watched her climb in.
He was done here. He still wanted the car, and he wanted it fixed. But first hed deal with the thorny question of why the Bugatti was nose-down in a bunch of roses.
Hold it, sweetheart.
She paused from rummaging in her bag, pointed chin angled over her shoulder, shades lowered, eyes assessing. Is there something else? she enquired civilly.
Yeah, too civil.
He knew how to get his point acrosshow to use leashed aggression as a weapon in the male-dominated industry in which hed shouldered his way up to the top.
He was somewhat stymied by the fact that as he approached the car she smiled, and her whole face softened, became sensuously lovely, almost expectant.
Before you rip out of here, he drawled, leaning in, just a word of advice.
Advice?
Lawyer up.
Her smile flickered and faded. But before he could read her expression she pushed the shades abruptly up her face.
As much as I like being tumbled out of bed by a handsome man and lectured to, she shot out rapidly, her words scrambling over one another, I do have an appointment and this is all getting rather complicated. She gave him a haughty look. If there is any damage to the car, add it to the bill, why dont you? She zipped up her bag and muttered something about it being just one more thing to add to the list.
She wasnt stupid, Nash thought, looking down at all those bright pretty curls, but her sense of self-preservation was clearly running on zero. Didnt she realise if she was a man he would have hauled her out of that car and done what was necessary?
Maybe she did. Maybe she was relying on her woman status to keep her out of harms way.
He reached in and palmed her keys.
Hey!
He levelled her with a look and had the satisfaction of seeing her back up in her seat.
Yeah, about that. The world doesnt run on your timetable, princess.
Her expression was hidden behind those shades, but the pulse at the base of her slender throat was pounding and the old blokes accusation about her being a nice woman and him frightening her returned full strength.
He dropped the keys into her lap.
Just as a matter of interestmine, not yours, dollhow did the car end up in the garden?
She fumbled to start her engine and he frowned. He wanted her to understand the consequences of her carelessness, but he didnt bully women.
She started up the engine, not looking at him.
I think that would be when I left the handbrake off, she responded, and without another word reversed fast in a cloud of dust.
Douleur bonne, what did she think she was doing?
Lorelei held on tight to the wheel as she tore up the drive, her heart pounding out of her chest. She just had to get away before the handsome stranger wrecked everything.
Alors, she could have just offered up a standard apology and volunteered to pay for all repairs. A more prudent woman would have done just that. But prudence wasnt her forte lately
She just wanted today to be a nice day.
One more day.
Was it too much to ask?
She licked her dry lips, dragged her bag over as she drove, fumbled for her lipstick.
Dont think about it, she told herself, swiping her lower lip with the crimson colour, making a mess of it.
She braked, dropped the lipstick, fished it from her lap and hooked off her sunglasses impatiently to restore her face with a tissue in the rear-vision mirror.
For a moment all she saw were her eyes, huge and dilated and vulnerable.
Taking a deep breath, she put herself back in order and forged onto the highway, determined to put this behind her. Oui, shed had a bad start to the day, but that didnt mean anything, and it wasnt that bad. Despite the trembling of her hands on the wheel shed had a little fun, hadnt she? She was sorry about the car, but it hadnt been intentional and it was only a little scratched. She was a good person, shed never hurt anyone on purpose in her life, she wasnt careless with other peoples property; she wasnt a criminal
Her heart had started pounding again.
Best not to think about it.
She depressed the accelerator, the wind tugging at her hair. Perhaps if she drove a little harder it would help.
She was living harder, too. Shed really pushed the boat out last night. In fact thinking about it made her feel a little sick.
She had positively, absolutely drunk too much. Shed flirted with the wrong men and her attention had definitely not been on her borrowed adornment for the twenties-themed party. When someone had pointed out a couple of the younger partygoers, climbing all over it, she had moved it herself, parking the vehicle in the private courtyard. Clearly she hadnt put the handbrake on.
Why hadnt she remembered to put the handbrake on?
For that matter, why had she behaved so poorly this morning? Why hadnt she apologised and done her best to smooth things over? Perhaps the better question was, what was she trying to prove? Was she that desperate for attention? For somebody to realise she needed help?
Brought up short by the thought, Lorelei let her foot retreat from the accelerator.
Did she need help?
The notion buzzed just out of focus. Certainly she wouldnt be asking any of her friends, none of whom had offered even a word of sensible advice since this whole nightmare began. Could she even call any of those people at her home last night friends? Probably not.
It didnt matter. At the end of the day a party merely meant she wasnt alone. She hated being alone. You couldnt hide when you were alone
In the rear vision mirror she caught a flash of red. Instinctively she depressed the accelerator. The car did nothing. She tried again and realised she was pumping her foot. Panicking slightly, although this had happened before, she gently stood on the brakes, bringing the car to a slow standstill on the roadside. She saw the sports car flash past in a blur of red and ignored the pinch in her chest because he hadnt even slowed down. Not that she could blame him.
Had she really expected him to stop?
There was nothing for it but to turn off the engine for five minutes before taking it easy going down into town. The Sunbeam Alpine had been playing up for weeks. This wasnt the first time it had happened, and it wouldnt be the last.
Laying her elbow on the door and pressing her head against her hand, she closed her eyes, allowing the sun on her face to soothe the surging anxiety that threatened to sweep everything before it.
Nash watched the Sunbeam drop speed, weave a little. The brake lights stayed on as it ground to a standstill in a cloud of dust at the roadside.
He sped past.
He didnt have time for this. For any of it. The banged-up car, the performance in the courtyard the unreasonable desire to pull over, pluck those shades off her eyes and rattle around for that conscience of hers shed assured him she had.
He only got a few hundred metres down the road before he was doing a screeching circle and slowly heading back.
She hadnt got out of the car She seemed to be just sitting there.
Nash already wanted to shake her.
He pulled the Veyron in behind and killed the engine. Shoving his aviators back through his thick brown hair, he advanced on her car. Still she hadnt shifted.
What did she expect? A valet service?
She was sitting with her head thrown back, as if the sun on her face was a sensual experience, her expression virtually obscured by those ridiculously large sunglasses. He noticed for the first time that she had a dappling of freckles over her bare shoulders. They seemed oddly girlish on such a sophisticated woman. He liked them.
His tread crunched on the gravel but she didnt shift an inch.
Car trouble?
She slowly lowered the glasses and angled up her face.
What do you think?
Those amber-brown eyes of hers locked on his.
What I think is you need a few lessons in driving and personal responsibility.
A smile, soft and subtle, drifted around the corners of her mouth. Really? And are you the man to give them to me?
Nash almost returned the smile. She really was playing this out to the last gasp.
How about getting out of the car?
She gave him a speculative look and then slowly began unhooking her seatbelt. Her movements were slow, deliberate. She unlatched the door, hesitated only for a moment and then swung her long legs out. She shut the door with a click behind her and leaned back against it.
How can I help you, Officer?
The scent of her hit him, swarmed through his senses like a hive of pretty bees, all honey and flowers and female.
Expensive, a steadying voice intervened. She smells and looks expensive.
Like any other rich girl on this coast. A dime a dozen if youd got a spare billion in the bank.
He folded his arms. Going to tell me whats going on?
He actually saw the moment the flirtatious persona fell away.
She gave a little shrug. There seems to be a problem with the engine. I accelerate but I lose speed.
He nodded and headed for the front of her car.
Lorelei found herself following him, hands on her hips. He got the bonnet up with no troublesomething she never could. He leaned in.
Its the original, he told her in that deep, male voice.
Are you a mechanic?
Near enough.
Lorelei looked down the road as a couple of cars swished past, then back at the man leaning into the business end of her car.
Her eyes dwelt on the tail of an intricate dragon tattoo running down his flexed left arm, on his muscled shoulders, shifting under the fit of his close-weave black T-shirt, broad and imposing as he bent low, drawing attention to the strong, lean length of his torso and tapering to a hall-of-fame behindall muscle. Prime male.
She snagged her bottom lip contemplatively, stroking him up and down with her eyes. She couldnt get over how thick and silky his dark brown hair looked, the wavy ends caressing his broad neck. She wondered how they would feel tangled between her fingers. She wondered what he would say if she apologised, if she told him she wasnt always this out of control
Whoever looks after it deserves a medal.
Lorelei wondered a little hopelessly if he was ever going to look uplook at her. She gave a little inner sigh. Probably not. Shed burnt her bridges with this man.
What was it? he prompted. A gift? When she didnt reply he straightened up and gave her a speculative look. Id say from a guy who knows his engines.
Lorelei cleared her throat, aware shed been staring at him and that he was probably aware of it. I bought it myself. At auction.
He looked so sceptical her hands twitched all over again on her hips.
You need a specialist to run some tests on the engine. He was looking at her steadily, as if he expected her to be writing this down. Its in good nick, so I assume youve got a specialist mechanic.
She found herself recalled to her usual good sense. Oui. Ill call him.
Everything else looks to be in order.
As he spoke he set the bonnet down carefully, checked it was locked in place. His movements were assured and methodical and, oddly, Lorelei felt soothed by them. He treated her car with respect. Which was more than she had done with his employers Bugatti, a little voice of conscience niggled.
What will happen with the Bugatti? she found herself asking.
I expect the man who owns her will have some questions for you.
Lorelei shoulders subsided.
Do you want me to follow you back?
No, most definitely not. Because she wasnt going back. Shed been running the Sunbeam like this for weeks, but she got the impression her handsome stranger would not be best pleased. He might not think much of her, but he was clearly in love with her car.
Mais non. You stopped. She pushed back a rogue curl dangling over the left side of her face. Its more than most people would have done. Merci beaucoup.
Nash hesitated. He hadnt seen her like this beforecalm, almost subduedand it suited her. She wasnt quite as young as hed first assumedmaybe thirtyand there was a maturity about her that hed missed in all the glamour-girl theatrics.
Right. Take care of her. Shes a beauty.
He ran his hand lightly over the paintwork and for the life of him couldnt work out why getting back into his car was so hard. Except she was just standing there, looking a little uncertain.
He sat in the Veyron, waiting, watching as she climbed into the sapphire-blue roadster, waiting for her to start the engine, waiting for her to pull out, all the while waiting to feel relief that she was off his hands. She gave him a simple wave and drove slowly back down the road.
Telling himself he was satisfied, he pulled out and took off.
Lorelei watched until she couldnt see him any more in her mirror, then ignored the pinch in her chest because she wasnt going to see him again, before turning the big car around and heading back the way he was going. Into town.
CHAPTER FOUR
LORELEI, good morning. The girl behind the desk beamed. Youre early!
No, I have a client at midday, so Im running late, ch?re. Can you be an angel and put a call through to the arena to let them know Im on my way?
As she reached her locker Lorelei finished keying her successful mornings tally into her cell: Smashed up a Bugatti. Met a man. Then she hesitated, because met a man implied she would be meeting him again. Monaco was a postage stamp of geography, but person per square foot it was the most densely populated postage stamp in the world, making it highly unlikely
She sighed, pressed Send to her best friends number and dropped the cell into her bag, placing that in her locker. Her love life was fairly, well, non-existent these days. Getting close to a man in her current situation just meant another person to hide things from.
She stripped, pulled on jodhpurs and a white shirt, and crouched down to yank on her riding boots. It was only when she stood up to don the regulation jacket and caught sight of her reflection that she paused to enjoy the little moment when she stepped into this world.
It was almost a moment of relief. She understood this world. There were rules and regulations and they were satisfying. It was what she had always loved about dressage and showjumping. She had had so little structure growing up, and the sport had provided for the lack. Ironically it was fulfilling the same function now.
She smiled wanly as she buttoned herself up. The jacket hung a little on her, but so did everything. Shed lost weight during her fathers trial and somehow never regained it.
Gathering up her clipboard, Lorelei made her way out into the stands to wait for her student.
Once this had been her dream, until a bad fall had put paid to her ambitions. Nowadays she trained up-and-coming equestrians on a freelance basis. It didnt pay spectacularly well, but it was work for her soul. After the accident she hadnt thought she would ever saddle up again. Two years of rehabilitation had taught her both patience and determination, and she brought them to her work. It made her a good trainer.
In a couple of years, when she was financially back on her feet again, she hoped to set up her own stables on a property she had her eye on outside Nice. For now, she trained and kept two horses at the nearby Allard Stables, where she also volunteered.
She brought her focus to bear as a glorious bay gelding entered the arena, carrying a long-legged teenager. Lorelei had been working with her for a month. She watched as horse and rider trotted round the perimeter and then came out of the circle, performing a shoulder-in. Her practised gaze narrowed. The rider was using the inside rein to create the bend, rather than her leg, and was pulling the horse off-track.
Too much neck-bend, no angle, she noted on the clipboard propped up on one knee.
Some of the best equine flesh in the world was on view here most days, ridden by the best of the best, but on Fridays the arena belonged to students such as young Gina, who was making a hash of the most fundamental lesson in advanced dressage. She would improveLorelei was confident on her behalf. These were skills that could be learnt. The rest was about your relationship with the horse, and Gina was a natural.
For the next half hour she took notes, then joined Gina and the bay geldings regular handler in the arena. She was working with Gina on top of her usual student load as a favour to another trainer, but she didnt mind taking on the extra work. It was good to take her head out of her financial troubles and focus on something she could control, and fulfilling to see the progress Gina had made in little over a month.
She worked with both girl and horse for the rest of their session, then joined Gina and her mother to talk about her progress. It was important, so although she was running late for her appointment at the Hotel de Paris she made the time. It was on half one when she leapt into the Sunbeam, starting her engine as she checked her cell.
It was never a pleasant experience. So many messagesso few people she actually wanted to talk to. There were several from her solicitor, a raft from legal firms shed never heard of and one from the agent through whom she was leasing the villa out to strangers. She had a vague hope that the income could be channelled back into the upkeep of the house and grounds. But she wouldnt think about that right now. She wasnt ready.
Maybe tomorrow.
Unexpectedly the strangers comment that she expected the world to run on her timetable flashed to mind. But before she had time to dwell unhappily on the truth of that, and aware that her damn hands were shaking again, she keyed in her best friend Simones number and attached ear buds to enable her to drive and talk.
You had a car accident? Mon Dieu, Lorelei, are you all right?
No, not an accident. She hesitated, knowing how lame it was going to sound. I borrowed it for a theme party and parked it and left the handbrake off.
There was a pause before Simone said with a suspicion of laughter in her voice, You know I love you, Lorelei, but I would never let you drive my car.
Then perhaps you should talk to the guy I dealt withthis big Australian. He seemed to think I was a disaster waiting to happen.
Poor bb. Im sure you charmed him in the end.
He was a little steamed about the car.
I bet.
I dont think he liked me very much.
Simone snorted. Men always like you, Lorelei. You wouldnt be so good at milking them of euros for that charity of yours if they didnt.
Lorelei acknowledged the truth of this with a little shrug. I guess this one was the exception. He was differentI dont know capable. Manly. He looked over my car.
And?
I think I liked him.
Simone was silent. Testimony to the state of Loreleis romantic life.
I know. I must be crazy, right?
Is he employed?
Oh, honestly.
The last one I heard about didnt have a sou to his name.
Rupert was an installation artist.
Is that what he called it? I know youre touchy about this, but for the life of me I cant work out why you dont date those guys you schmooze for your grandmothers charity.
Loreleis heart sank a little. The nature of her charity work meant she was often seen in social situations with powerful men, but she never dated them. Being the daughter of one of the most infamous gigolos on the Riviera had left her wary of men who could pay her bills. She gravitated towards a type: struggling artistwhether it be painter or musician or poetoften in need of propping up, usually with her money. And that was where everything came unstuck.
Well, she didnt have that problem any more
So no name, no number?
No hope, finished Lorelei, and their laughter mingled over the old joke. Im on my way as we speak to the Hotel de Paris.
Ooh, la la, tell me youre going to use their wonderful spa!
Not today. Im being Antoinette St Jamess granddaughter and fronting for the foundation.
Your grandmamans charity?
Oui. Theyre doing a vintage car rally to raise funds for children with cancer. Thats why I had the Bugatti on loan for last nights party. As an adjunct a racing driver here in Monaco has a private track a few miles inland, and hes going to run the kids around it for the day.
Which driver? Do you have a name?
I dont know. Let me see. Lorelei braked at a pedestrian crossing and fumbled with the shiny folder shed picked up from the Aviary office yesterday. Nash Blue. The name is vaguely familiar
The line went quiet.
Simone?
Im here. Im just taking it in. Nash Blue. Cherie, how can you live in Monaco and not know anything about the Grand Prix?
Lorelei rumpled her curls distractedly. Im not very sporty, Simone.
You might want to keep quiet about that when you meet him. Simone sounded arch. You didnt do any research, did you?
I havent had time. It was dumped on me yesterday.
You do know Nash Blue is a racing legend?
Really? Lorelei asked without interest, concentrating on weighting the folder down on the passenger seat with her handbag.
Hes a rock star of the racing world. Hes broken all sorts of records. He retired a few years ago at the height of his career andlisten to this, cheriehe was earning close to fifty million a year. And Im not talking euros. He was one of the highest paid sportsmen in the world.
Must be nice, Lorelei thought vaguely.
He gave up the track to design supercarswhatever they are. I think the consensus is hes some kind of genius. But, putting that aside for a moment, hes utterly gorgeous, Lorelei. I confess Im a little envious.
Unexpectedly Lorelei pictured a pair of intense blue eyes and wished she had this morning to do over again.
Im sure Ill do something to annoy him. Im on a roll with that, Simone.
He rarely gives interviews. The few times he has hes been famously monosyllabic.
Loreleis heart sank. So she was going to have to do all the talking?
But be en garde, cherie. He has a reputation with the ladies.
Oh, please. If he doesnt talk how does that even work?
I dont think much talking is involved.
Lorelei rolled her eyes. I think Im quite safe, Simone. You forgetI grew up watching Raymond ply his trade. I have no illusions left.
Not all men are rascals, cherie.
No, you married the one who wasnt. It was said fondly. Lorelei found solace in Simones happy marriage, her family life. But it wasnt something she ever envisaged for herself. Apart from Simone, her longest relationship had been with her twelve-year-old horses.
All Im saying is Nash Blue was a bit of a player in his racing days, and given his profile I doubt anything has changed.
Oui, oui. Ill keep that in mind.
All the parties and famous people you meetyou are one lucky girl, cherie. Simone sounded quite wistful.
I guess.
And now she was lying to her best friend.
For a glancing moment Lorelei wanted to tell Simone about all the unreturned phone calls, the unopened emails
But she couldnt tell her. She was so ashamed she had let it get to this point.
The villa was a money pit she couldnt afford to keep up, and the charity was an ongoing responsibility that took time away from paid work. Her fathers legal fees and creditors had basically stripped her of everything else.
Shed lost so much in the last two years, first Grandy to illness and then her faith in Raymond. Right now the only thing that felt certain in her world was the home she had grown up in, and she was holding on to it by the skin of her teeth.
Keep me updated, cherie.
Absolutement. Je taime.
Lorelei was still thinking about the call as she turned into the Place du Casino and began thinking about where she was going to leave her car. She was running late, and thoughts of what awaited her at home were proving a distraction despite her best efforts to pretend to the contrary. Yet the sun was shining, which lifted her spirits, and she told herself she deserved to cut herself a little slack. Tomorrow shed deal with all those intrusive emails. She might even front up at her solicitors officealthough perhaps that was going overboard.
She stilled as she caught sight of a familiar red Veyron parked right outside the hotel entrance. Brakes squealing, she came to a standstill midtraffic. The adrenalin levels spiked in her body, but it wasnt anything to do with thoughts of bills and creditors. Her heart pounded.
Behind her horns blared. She made a wide go-around-me gesture with her arm, scanning for a spot. She found one and cut across the flow of traffic, wincing at the blare of horns, but it was worth it to back up into the nice wide space. Perfect. All she needed now was to hand over the folder, smile at the racing-car driver and then she could go and find her stranger and apologise, offer to buy him a drink or two and hope her charm would do the trick.
She reapplied her lipstick with a steady hand, unravelled the blue scarf she wore to protect her hair from the wind and stepped out onto the road.
This time a car horn gave an appreciative little beep as she sashayed across the Place du Casino towards the maharajahs jewel box that was the hotel. That was more like it.
The day was looking up.
He was late.
Nash didnt give it much thought. The publicist would wait. Cullinan would wait. Everyone waited. It was one of the few useful by-products of fame and perversely frustrating. Nash was only too aware of the contradiction. It would be interesting if for once he was stood up.
But another benefit was being able to help out where he could for a worthy cause, and a kids cancer charity was pretty high on that list.
That was why he had ridden down from the top floor in the middle of negotiations and now strolled across the lobby into Le Bar Amricain. Five minutes of face-time and this charity rep would be keen to get going, given hed held her up for Nash glanced at his watch thirty-five minutes.
He scanned the downlit warm ambience of the bar. John Cullinan was on a stool, leaning into both drink and cell as he cut some throats. He was the best in the business at what he didas he should be, given what he was paid, Nash reflected. But you got what you paid for. Cullinan was worth every penny.
He killed the call the second he saw Nash. Shes a no-show.
Nash shrugged. It was of no importance, just a formality.
Ill get onto the foundation
Just forward the details to the guys at the track and let me know a time and well give the kids something to smile about.
He was about to move off when he saw her. She had paused in the doorway to speak to the ma?tre d. Her head was slightly bent, exposing the lovely length of her neck and making those bare shoulders look impossibly seductive. He hadnt stopped thinking about those delicately boned shoulders, the fine stemmed length of her throat ever since hed left her up on the highway.
Nash found himself unable to look away.
Was she meeting someone here? For some reason the muscles tightened all through his body as he cast an inclusive once-over across the room, hunting down the guy. No one had moved towards her, although she had pulled a lot of attention, and he knew in that instant she was alone.
For the first time since hed quit racing professionally Nash felt the same competitive tension hed used to before a race.
She turned to look across the room, pushing back a rogue curl with that gesture he remembered, and her eyes met his.
Even at this distance he could see her bow lips tighten. She didnt look happy to see him.
Irritation sparked as a dozen reasons why he should walk on by and forget about her waved themselves like red flags. Yet as every male head in the room turned as she headed his way he knew he wasnt going anywhere.
Lorelei found herself unable to look away.
He stood by the bar, stripped to a crisp white shirt stylishly taut along his torso and dark tailored trousers. His shoulders were impossibly broad, and he radiated confidence and money and power.
Lorelei removed her sunglasses and just stood there, trying to make the connection.
But even as she turned to the ma?tre d and gave his name she knew what the answer would be.
A shiver ran through her. In this setting it was obvious he was the most powerful man in the room. He was certainly the most attractive, and the chasm between mechanic and the man standing before her was immense. It couldnt be leapt.
Shed been had.
Lorelei stiffened as his gaze landed on her.
Shed also been seen.
His eyes locked onto her and for a moment he looked as poleaxed as she felt. Then he frowned.
She straightened, determined that not by an inflection in her voice or the blink of an eyelash should he see how angry she wasalthough she wasnt quite sure with who, nor how foolish she felt. She headed over.
Men were looking at her. Men always looked at her. She was tall and blonde and for some guys she was a prize. What they didnt know was that she wasnt available to be won.
She did the prize-keeping and the awarding.
Mr Blue, I presume? She offered her hand unsmilingly.
He wasnt smiling either, but he took her extended hand with common courtesy.
Lorelei told herself to relax. So theyd had a little moment this morning? He was a professional and she was well, volunteering her time. Surely this could be polite and oh
His hand closed around hers, warm and dry and secure, and she melted just a little behind the knees. Was he holding on a little longer than necessary? Lorelei felt the colour mounting her cheeks. As he released her hand his thumb shifted and gently brushed over the hardened skin at the base of her palm.
A faint look of surprise lit those blue eyes and Lorelei snatched her hand back, feeling exposed. She could hear her grandmothers voice. Lorelei, a lady is known by the softness of her hands.
Silly, old-fashioned, not true, and yet
Another man stepped between them. Youll deal with me, Miss St James. He read her name off an email printout that Lorelei could clearly see had the Aviary Foundations logo.
Lorelei wanted to take a step back but she held her ground. She knew a cut-them-down-to-size gesture when she was on the receiving end of one. Shed experienced enough of them over the weeks when shed attended her fathers trial in Paris. Nobody wanted her to be the unrattled loyal daughter, especially the media, but that was exactly what she had been. Even if it had meant sitting in the shower every night, crying her heart out.
Lorelei St James, she said coolly, drawing on the self-control she had perfected during that awful period. Let me guessyou must be Mr Cullinan, the delightful man who spoke to our foundations receptionist yesterday and left her in tears.
The guy bristled, but Nashs cool, deep voice brushed him aside.
It goes with the territory, Ms St James. Sometimes John doesnt know when to turn it off. Do you have paperwork?
A little thrown by finding herself under the intent scrutiny of those blue eyes again, for a moment Lorelei had to think. What paperwork? Then she pulled herself together and unclasped her handbag, producing the small glossy folder. Nash handed it over, sight unseen, to the scowling Cullinan.
You can go, John. Ill handle this.
Lorelei tried not to appear startled.
Dont you want to discuss it? She indicated the folder being carried away by Mr Cullinan. The foundations president had been very clear: she was expected to go over the schedule with Blues management.
No, he said simply.
To the point. Direct. Like any woman, Lorelei liked decisiveness in a man, but it also left her on the back foot. Hed taken away her reason for being here in a single gesture.
Now they were alone she felt even more exposed. Would he think she had some hand in this? That shed known exactly who shed been dealing with up at the house?
She decided to come right to the point. Mr Blue, was there a reason why you didnt introduce yourself this morning?
Although she already knew the answer
At the time names didnt seem relevant. His eyes moved with interest over her face. And its Nash.
Because he wasnt going to be seeing her again. Lorelei remembered how obvious she had made her interest in him and found herself cringing. What was it hed said about not wanting to discuss it? He cant make it any more clear, Lorelei, a little voice of self-preservation whispered. Hes not interested. Hes seen you at your worst. Nobody wants to be around that
She was pulled up short. What was that hed said about calling him Nash?
Tell me, Ms St James, have you eaten?
Suddenly they seemed to be standing so close. Certainly too close for her to think clearly. His blue eyes moved broodingly over her. Lorelei could feel her body actually quivering in response.
Are you offering to feed me, Mr Blue?
A look of amusement flickered unmistakably in those intense blue eyes. It would seem that way. He indicated the bar. Whats your poison?
Fortunately the answer to that question was always there, even as she scrambled to process the fact he was asking her to lunch with him.
He murmured, Champagne cocktail, to the bartender and then quite casually slid his broad hand around her bare elbow.
His touch sent a shiver through her erogenous zones and Lorelei found she was wobbling a little on her heels as he began to walk her out of the bar.
Should I ask where were going? Was that appallingly breathless sound her own voice?
His mouth twitched. Why ruin the surprise?
It was silly to feel trepidatious but their history had been a little rocky today, and that hand on her elbow was a tad possessive for their short acquaintance. He was a take-charge guy, but she was a little apprehensive about what form that might take. She told herself not to be silly. After all, he was hardly going to throw her into a river with crocodiles. Was he? Shed scratched a car he clearly valued, and shed apologised for that. Had she apologised?
Lorelei glanced up at him. He wasnt smiling, but she had yet to see him smile. Other guests and patrons were staring at them but Nash appeared oblivious. Simones phrase a rock star of the racing world bumped into her consciousness. She was with a famous man. She guessed he was used to being stared at. Except the Hotel de Paris wasnt a place people usually stared
For the first time in her life Lorelei realised she wasnt the main event.
The man she was with was.
He led her into the Jardin restaurant. It was impossible just to walk in and get a tableshed tried once or twice beforebut Nash did just that. As he seated her at the best table on the terrace, with the Mediterranean as a backdrop, her cocktail arrived. Hand delivered by the bartender.
This was a new experience.
Merci, she murmured.
A menu was placed into her hands and a waiter hovered as Nash chose the wine.
French sparkling.
How did he know?
Lorelei glanced at her cocktail and smiled a little at her own foolishness.
Mon Dieu, she was being positively girlish. Anyone would think shed never sat down across from a rock star.
She met those intense blue eyes and time trickled to a stop. She knew that look in his eyes. He hadnt looked at her that way when shed been playing out her theatrics this morningor perhaps shed been too self-absorbed to notice.
No, she would have noticed this.
He was looking at her as if she was worth his time.
A flutter of feminine satisfaction winged through her chest even as her ego reminded her she was worth any mans time.
But this man wasnt any man, and he was interested and making no secret of it.
She felt hot and tingly and aware of her body in ways she hadnt been in such a long time.
Then she remembered what Simone had said about him being a player and she stood on the brakes. She lifted the menu.
Did you plan to have lunch with the charitys representative, Mr Blue? she enquired, pleased that her voice continued to be cool and play-by-my-rules.
Its Nash. His voice was low and lazy, And no, Lori, it wasnt on the programme.
Its Lorelei. She didnt lift her eyes from the menu she was pretending to read. And I wouldnt want to hold up your important day.
There was a pause and from the corner of her eye she caught the movement of his arm as he reached into his jacket. Excuse me one moment.
She lowered the menu. He was keying a number on his cell.
Luc, I wont be back. His tone of voice was abrupt and to the pointnothing like the easy male drawl he used with her. Have them send the contracts straight over to Blue. Ill deal with them tomorrow.
Lorelei put the menu down.
He pocketed the cell.
I take it that was for me, she observed, lifting a finely arched brow.
The wine had arrived. He poured her a glass himself, then lifted his tall glass of sparkling wine and touched the flute in her hand.
He didnt smile, but his eyes caught and held the part of her fighting to get free, and in that instant Lorelei stopped struggling.
His voice was deep and affectingly roughened, as if coming from a part of himself he usually held in check.
Consider me all yours for the afternoon.
CHAPTER FIVE
WITH the Bugatti long dismissed from his mind as a fake and the over-the-top theatrics she had engaged in difficult to reconcile with the poised woman sitting opposite him, Nash found himself entertaining what would have seemed outrageous a mere couple of hours ago.
She was a huge distraction, but he would make the time.
As he had led her to their table hed appreciated for the second time today the graceful dip of her long, slender back before it gave way to the small curve of her hips, and the subtle sway of those hips as she walked with ease on deathtrap heels. She possessed an innate old-style grace and a hint of athleticism he couldnt quite link up with the sybaritic lifestyle she seemed to embrace.
She intrigued him.
He hadnt been able to get her out of his head since hed left her on the highway. In the past if hed wanted something hed gone after it. But this something had turned up at exactly the wrong moment.
In a weeks time his re-entry into racing was going to hit the media like a virus. Everything he did would be scrutinizedthe places he went, the parties he attended, the women on his arm. Crazy drama-queen blondes were not part of the package. He intended to keep a low profile and wait out the blood in the water period until the media moved on to the next high-profile sportsman and hounded his private life.
Any woman he was seen with now needed to be low-key, and preferably without her own media circus. Hed broken off an on again/off again sexual relationship with a well-known British actress earlier in the year for just that reason. He knew the press would dig something out and air it in the months to come, but he also knew she was soon going to be announcing her engagement and that should put paid to any rumours. He wanted his re-entry into the sport to be as low-key as possiblethe opposite of the media circus hed been caught up in during his twenties.
.
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, (https://www.litres.ru/lucy-ellis/pride-after-her-fall/) .
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