Сара Крейвен – To Claim His Mistress: Mistress at a Price / Mother and Mistress / His Mistress's Secret (страница 7)

Liam was leaning against the wall opposite, but he straightened instantly when he saw her, a lightning glance sweeping her from head to toe.

‘There’s really no need to be nervous,’ he mentioned softly as he fell into step beside her. ‘After all, everyone has to eat.’

‘I’m not nervous,’ Cat snapped. ‘Simply annoyed at your—unwarranted persistence.’

His slow grin was unperturbed. ‘Oh, you were out of sorts long before I showed up. You’ve had a trying day. What you need is some rest and recreation.’

She stared straight ahead of her. ‘I already had that planned—at home.’

‘Where, of course, you live alone.’

‘Yes,’ she acknowledged curtly. ‘If it’s any concern of yours.’

‘Naturally I’m interested,’ he drawled. ‘Or I wouldn’t be here now.’

Fool, she castigated herself silently. You should have claimed you lived with a boyfriend—or shared a house with three other girls. The last thing you need is to sound vulnerable—or available.

But the truth was she didn’t seem able to think straight. Merely walking down this wide staircase beside him was taking a strange kind of toll on her. He wasn’t touching her—there was actual space between them—but all the same she was trembling inside, her senses tuned to a kind of scared anticipation she had never experienced before.

And just when she needed to be most in control, Cat thought, biting her lip.

They were clearly expected in the dining room, where the head waiter conducted them to a corner table in an alcove without a flicker of surprise. And even, she realised, puzzled, with a modicum of deference.

They must consider he can pay the bill, and that’s what matters, she thought with a mental shrug as menus were brought, napkins spread, the inevitable candles lit and aperitifs offered. Which she swiftly declined, asking for mineral water only.

‘Very circumspect.’ Liam’s lips twisted as he ordered a whisky for himself.

‘I’m driving,’ she said. ‘Or had you forgotten?’

‘Not at all. But I still think it’s a pity you changed your mind about staying the night,’ he added meditatively.

Why does that not surprise me? Cat thought, sheltering behind her menu.

‘Is that what’s known as a dignified silence?’ her infuriating companion enquired, after a pause.

‘On the contrary,’ she returned. ‘I was merely trying to choose between the melon and the chilled cucumber soup.’

‘And have you reached a decision?’

‘The soup,’ she said. ‘And grilled Dover sole, please. Off the bone.’

‘Make that two.’ Liam turned to the hovering waiter. ‘But I’ll start with the goat’s cheese tartlet.’ He picked up the wine list and indicated his choice.

‘Not steak?’ Cat asked when they were alone, raising her brows in faint mockery. ‘I had you down as a red meat man.’

Liam took a reflective sip of his whisky. ‘Any other assumptions about me that you’d like to share?’

‘Well…’ Cat considered. ‘You’re certainly a risk-taker.’

He leaned back in his chair. ‘Based on what?’

She shrugged. ‘Pestering a female guest to spend the evening with you. I’m sure that isn’t part of your job description.’ She tried another steely glance. ‘How did you know I wouldn’t make a formal complaint about you to the management?’

‘Because you’re Cat,’ he said softly. ‘And all cats are curious.’

‘That’s it?’ she queried scornfully. ‘You staked your future here on some old saying?’

He grinned at her. ‘Not just one. How about “Faint heart ne’er won a lady fair”?’

‘You have not,’ she said, ‘won me.’

His grin widened into provocation. ‘Perhaps I haven’t been trying.’

It was an open challenge, and she knew it. She’d had plenty of time to absorb her surroundings and realise that theirs was the most secluded table in the restaurant, practically screened from the rest of the diners. The candlelight, too, seemed to enclose them in this private microcosm. And although she could hear the murmur of voices and the chink of glassware and cutlery from the rest of the room, Cat still felt cut off. Isolated. With him.

She said coolly, ‘You have an inflated idea of your own charm.’

‘I’m sure your powers of resistance are equal to it.’ Liam paused as the wine waiter arrived at the table with an ice bucket and a bottle of white burgundy. He tasted it, then nodded, and the waiter turned to Cat, filling her glass before she had a chance to refuse.

As the man departed Liam lifted his glass. ‘A toast,’ he said quietly, his eyes meeting hers. Lingering enigmatically. ‘To the promise of the evening.’

Cat felt her skin warming involuntarily under his gaze. She bit her lip, raising her own glass in turn with open reluctance. It was certainly not the toast of her choice, she thought broodingly.

She hadn’t planned to drink any alcohol, either, but had to concede that it was a wonderful wine, filling her senses with its cool, seductive fragrance.

Under other circumstances, she thought, with something approaching regret, this could indeed have been an evening to remember. As it was…

She lifted her chin. ‘Not just a risk-taker,’ she commented with faint derision chilling her voice. ‘But an optimist, too.’

‘Everyone is allowed to have their dreams.’ He was still watching her. ‘What do you dream about, Cat?’

‘Oh, I never remember,’ she said untruthfully. ‘Anyway, I think I’m too busy to dream.’

‘Really?’ His brows lifted. ‘So, what keeps you so occupied?’

Studiedly, she put down her glass. Gave him a brief, composed smile. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘No more personal details.’

‘Won’t that tend to make conversation tricky?’

‘Not my problem.’ She shrugged. ‘After all, I didn’t choose to be here tonight. Which means I reserve the right to protect my privacy. No other options available.’

‘But hardly the ideal way to start a relationship.’

‘We’re having dinner,’ she said. ‘Nothing more than that.’

He was leaning back in his chair, his face half hidden in the shadows beyond the candlelight. ‘To you, perhaps,’ he said. ‘But not to me. It will take a damned sight more than a meal to satisfy me tonight.’

She bit back a gasp. She said huskily, ‘How—dare you? Are you mad?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m a risk-taker—and an optimist. You said so yourself.’ She could hear the sensuous huskiness in his voice. Could feel the smoky intensity of his gaze on the roundness of her breasts under the clinging top as acutely as if he’d touched them naked, cupping the warm swell of them in his hands.

She felt suddenly breathless, the pounding of her heart like a trip-hammer, as she found herself imagining how his touch would be…

Oh, God, she thought, retreating from the brink. This cannot be happening. Pull yourself together.

Now, if ever, was the time to tell him with flinty emphasis that he’d finally overstepped the mark, pick up her bag and leave—even if it meant leaving the hotel a blank cheque for her bill.

Only, she realised, dismayed, the first course was arriving and their table was surrounded. Bread was being offered, butter pats placed within reach, and glasses were being topped up. An exit was no longer a simple option—if her legs would even carry her so far.

Instead, as if she’d been programmed, she found herself picking up her spoon and addressing her soup. Its cool, delicate flavour was just what she needed to ease the dryness in her throat. And maybe food would stop the trembling inside her—if anything could…

‘Good?’ Liam asked casually, host to guest rather than predator to prey, and she nodded jerkily.

‘Wonderful,’ she managed. ‘The food critics seem to be absolutely right.’

‘I’ll make sure I tell the chef.’

‘Yes, please do.’ Cat reached for the nearest glass, intending to drink some water, only to find she’d taken another gulp of wine.

But if she confined herself to one glassful only there’d be no real harm done, she assured herself hastily. Perhaps it would even calm her a little—help her to relax and endure the remainder of the meal.

Because that was what it was going to be—an endurance test. And she had to be the winner. There could be no other result.

So perhaps it was time she tried to recover a measure of control over the situation.

She took another deliberate sip of wine, then smiled at him with direct charm. ‘What a good idea this was,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

‘My God,’ he said mockingly. ‘And I thought you were all set to sprinkle hemlock on my salad.’