Lucy Ellis – Pride After Her Fall (страница 7)
The villa was a money pit she couldn’t afford to keep up, and the charity was an ongoing responsibility that took time away from paid work. Her father’s legal fees and creditors had basically stripped her of everything else.
She’d 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,
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 she’d deal with all those intrusive emails. She might even front up at her solicitor’s office—although 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 wasn’t 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 maharajah’s jewel box that was the hotel. That was more like it.
The day was looking up.
He was late.
Nash didn’t 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 Américain. Five minutes of face-time and this charity rep would be keen to get going, given he’d 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 did—as 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. ‘She’s a no-show.’
Nash shrugged. It was of no importance, just a formality.
‘I’ll get onto the foundation—’
‘Just forward the details to the guys at the track and let me know a time and we’ll 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 maître d’. Her head was slightly bent, exposing the lovely length of her neck and making those bare shoulders look impossibly seductive. He hadn’t stopped thinking about those delicately boned shoulders, the fine stemmed length of her throat ever since he’d 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 he’d quit racing professionally Nash felt the same competitive tension he’d 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 didn’t 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 wasn’t 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 maître 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 couldn’t be leapt.
She’d been had.
Lorelei stiffened as his gaze landed on her.
She’d 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 was—although she wasn’t 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 didn’t know was that she wasn’t available to be won.
‘Mr Blue, I presume?’ She offered her hand unsmilingly.
He wasn’t smiling either, but he took her extended hand with common courtesy.
Lorelei told herself to relax. So they’d 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 grandmother’s voice. ‘Lorelei, a lady is known by the softness of her hands.’
Silly, old-fashioned, not true, and yet …
Another man stepped between them. ‘You’ll deal with
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. She’d experienced enough of them over the weeks when she’d attended her father’s 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 guess—you must be Mr Cullinan, the
The guy bristled, but Nash’s cool, deep voice brushed him aside.
‘It goes with the territory, Ms St James. Sometimes John doesn’t 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.
‘You can go, John. I’ll handle this.’
Lorelei tried not to appear startled.
‘Don’t you want to discuss it?’ She indicated the folder being carried away by Mr Cullinan. The foundation’s president had been very clear: she was expected to go over the schedule with Blue’s 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. He’d 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 she’d known exactly who she’d been dealing with up at the house?
She decided to come right to the point. ‘Mr Blue, was there a reason why you didn’t introduce yourself this morning?’
Although she already knew the answer …
‘At the time names didn’t seem relevant.’ His eyes moved with interest over her face. ‘And it’s Nash.’
Because he wasn’t going to be seeing her again. Lorelei remembered how obvious she had made her interest in him and found herself cringing. What was it he’d said about not wanting to discuss it?