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As the lift soared up towards the top floor, Jean-Claude frowned to himself. What, if anything, should he do about Miss Dee? When he’d left her fifteen minutes ago in a blaze of frustration, it had been his intention simply to wash his hands of her. Chances were he could manage without her assistance anyway, though her cooperation might have made his task a little easier.
But now his mood had mellowed. Whether he really needed her or not, he rather liked the idea of having another go at winning her round. For a start, he was extremely partial to brunettes, especially brunettes with such glorious hazel eyes. And she had lots of spirit, and there was nothing he enjoyed more than crossing swords with a spirited woman. Unless, of course, it was making love to her.
As the lift doors opened, he stepped out onto the landing, a sense of warm anticipation gathering in his heart. Over dinner, he’d decide how to bring these pleasures within his grasp.
Lasalle wasn’t staying at the first hotel Georgia phoned. Nor at the second one and nor at the third. Maybe, she thought bleakly, he wasn’t staying at a hotel at all. Perhaps, instead, he was staying with friends. And time was so short. He’d said he was leaving Bath first thing tomorrow. How would she manage to track him down before then?
But then, with her fourth try, she finally struck gold.
‘Yes, we do have a Mr Jean-Claude Lasalle staying with us,’ the receptionist told her. ‘Would you like me to put you through—?’
Georgia cut in quickly, ‘No, thanks. Please don’t bother. I’d prefer to drop round to the hotel and speak to him in person.’
Ten minutes later, she was jumping into her red Polo and heading for the city centre.
Thank heavens! she thought. I’m saved! It was like winning a reprieve. Since that terrifying moment when she’d stood at the garden gate and watched him disappear in the proverbial cloud of dust, she’d been utterly convinced that she’d made a ghastly mistake.
Maybe he wasn’t genuine. There was always that possibility. But she also had to consider the possibility that he was. And if that was the case and he really did want to help her, then she’d been out of her mind to dismiss him the way she had. If it was true that Duval was about to come after her again, she was going to need every bit of help she could get.
She shivered, remembering all the strange things that had started happening after she’d turned down Duval’s third and final offer.
The first odd occurrence had concerned the lease on her shop. She’d been about to renew it, a perfectly routine affair, when suddenly, out of the blue, she’d been notified by her landlord that the lease was not renewable, after all. She’d have to find new premises by the end of the month.
That had been a nightmare. She could never have done it. Suitable premises in the city centre were rarer than hens’ teeth. But at the very last moment her solicitor had established that her landlord had no right to refuse to renew her lease.
Still, that hadn’t been the end of it. Next, her landlord had tripled the rent.
It had been totally out of the question that she could ever have paid such a sum, and for a while it had looked as though she might actually have to sell her flat in order to keep going till she could find new, cheaper premises. But in the end, after a fight, her landlord had been forced to back down again. He’d still put the rent up, but not by three times what it had been.
Georgia had barely recovered from all that when there was a fire in the storeroom which resulted in her losing most of her stock. The insurance company had paid up, but what was lost was irreplaceable. The only thing to be grateful for was that it had happened in between seasons, before the bulk of her summer stock arrived from France. Otherwise, it would have been a total disaster.
She’d no evidence to prove it, but Georgia was convinced that Duval was the one she had to thank for all her troubles. Each time something had happened, he’d instantly materialised, either by phone or in the shape of one of his lackeys, renewing his last offer, urging her to accept it and dropping hints that she’d be extremely unwise not to cooperate.
It had been a nerve-racking time, but Georgia had held out and, in the end, Duval had dropped from sight. Her solicitor had told her it was safe to assume that he’d finally abandoned his bid to take her over. But now Lasalle was saying that this wasn’t so and warning her that Duval was about to start playing dirty. That scared her to bits. What was dirty in Duval’s book? She’d been under the impression he was playing dirty already!
Of course, as far as Lasalle himself was concerned, there were still a lot of questions to be answered. Who was he? Who was he working for? Why did he want to help her? But, all the same, she was convinced that it had been a big mistake to send him away without even hearing what he had to say. If there was any chance at all that he really was genuine, she had to find a way to get him back on her side again.
As she headed through the light evening traffic in the city centre, Georgia was already planning how she would do that. She’d get him alone and apologize profusely for her rudeness, beg him to forgive her and plead for his help. And since it was a pretty safe bet that he was the type of man who would enjoy a begging, pleading woman—it would appeal to his overbearing masculine vanity!—he’d soon forgive her and do as she wished. Then, when she’d had a chance to consider what he had to say to her, she’d be able to judge whether he was genuine or not.
She smiled to herself. It was going to be easy. She had Jean-Claude Lasalle all figured out.
At the hotel reception desk, however, she received a bit of bad news.
‘I’m sorry,’ the receptionist told her, casting a quick glance behind her at the row of numbered cubby-holes where the guests’ keys were kept, ‘but Mr Lasalle appears to have gone out.’
Damn. ‘I don’t suppose he said where he was going?’ If she knew where he’d gone, maybe she could go after him.
But the receptionist shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I have no idea. We don’t keep track of our guests’ movements,’ she added sniffily.
Georgia took a seat in a corner of the lobby with a good view of the door. Chances were he’d gone out to dinner, but it would be pointless to try and track him down, for there were any number of restaurants he might have gone to. No, she’d just have to sit here and wait till he got back.
She leaned back and suppressed a sigh. It would probably be a long wait. Jean-Claude Lasalle, with his designer suits and shiny Porsche, was not the type of man to make do with a quick bite. No takeaway Chinese or instant hamburger for him. He’d be treating himself to three leisurely courses of Bath’s best, with a bottle of good wine and a shot of brandy to follow. Suppressing another small sigh, she reached for one of the magazines on the table.
An hour and a half later, there was still no sign of him. Georgia stood up to stretch her legs and stifled a yawn. She’d read every single magazine on the table from cover to cover and she was starting to grow tired of the sniffy receptionist’s beady stare. Maybe she thinks I’m some high-class hooker who’s arrived a little early for my appointment! she thought.
But there was a more worrying consideration. It was far too hot here in the lobby and she’d caught herself very nearly nodding off a couple of times! That really was serious. Imagine the disaster if she was sitting there in a state of oblivious slumber when he finally walked into the lobby! For it was perfectly possible that the beady-eyed receptionist might not actually bother to tell him she was there. He could be fast asleep in bed by the time she discovered he was back.
Georgia frowned. Maybe I ought to stay on my feet and pace about, she told herself. That would keep me awake, as well as entertaining the receptionist! But then she had a much better idea.
She crossed again to the reception desk. ‘I wonder if you’d mind checking if Mr Lasalle has left a message for me?’ She smiled a long-suffering smile. ‘You see, he was supposed to meet me here, and I can’t believe he’d be this late without letting me know.’
With a haughty little smile, the receptionist obliged, turning to the row of cubby-holes behind her. Then, as Georgia held her breath, terrified her ruse mightn’t work, she proceeded to do precisely what Georgia had prayed she’d do. She reached up and inserted her hand into one of the cubby-holes.
A moment later, she was examining the slip of paper she’d removed. ‘No, I’m afraid there’s no message. This is a fax for Mr Lasalle.’ And she returned the slip of paper to the cubby-holes.
Georgia was struggling not to grin. Of course there was no message for her! But she’d got what she wanted. She now knew his room number, something the sniffy receptionist would never voluntarily have told her. So she could go ahead and put her brilliant idea into action!
She went back to her seat, picked up a magazine at random and waited till the receptionist disappeared into the office behind the desk, as she did from time to time. Then Georgia leapt to her feet, tore across the lobby and dived through the doorway that led to the lifts and stairs. Scarcely pausing for breath, she sprinted up to the top floor.
What she’d do was wait for him outside his room. There, she’d be able to pace about in private and, when he finally arrived, she’d be able to speak to him more easily, away from curious, prying eyes.
As she approached his room, however, she was taken by surprise. A maid suddenly emerged through the half-open door, carrying an armful of used bath towels.
‘Good evening.’ She smiled at Georgia. ‘I’ve just been tidying the bathroom.’ And she held the door open to allow her to pass inside.
Georgia’s immediate, instinctive reaction was to point out the mistake.
‘It’s not my room,’ she was about to confess. ‘I’m not even a guest here.’
But, for some quite unfathomable reason, she didn’t.
She hesitated for only a second. ‘Thank you,’ she replied. Then, with barely a thought for what she might be walking into, she quickly squared her shoulders and strode through the open door.
CHAPTER TWO
GEORGIA blinked open her eyes, suddenly realising that she’d fallen asleep.
Horrors! What had she been thinking of? She squinted at her watch and discovered to her dismay that it was very nearly midnight. And Lasalle still wasn’t back yet. What the devil was the man up to?
Stiffly, she sat up, pushing her hair back from her face. Just be grateful that he is up to it, whatever it is, she told herself. Imagine how it would have looked if he’d come walking through the door and found you fast asleep at the foot of his bed!
It was at that moment that, through the bathroom door, she heard the sound of the shower.
Georgia froze, refusing to believe her ears for a moment. Surely not? He’d come back, calmly walked past her—for there was no way in the world he could have failed to notice her!—and then, as though everything were perfectly normal, he’d gone into the bathroom to have a shower! If nothing else, he deserved ten out of ten for cool.
She heard the shower switch off, and jumped up from the bed. What on earth ought she to do now? Flee while she still had the chance? It was tempting, but it would be a pretty silly thing to do at this stage. No, the only course of action was to stay right where she was and try to act as cool as him. For one thing, it was rather necessary that she explain what she was doing here, for heaven knew what must be going through his head!
Shoulders squared and quickly smoothing the rumpled skirt of her cerise wool suit, she turned to face the bathroom door just as Lasalle came walking through it.
‘So, you’re awake?’ He was wearing nothing but a white towel around his hips. He smiled with amusement into her carefully composed face. ‘I hope I didn’t disturb you. I tried to be as quiet as I could.’
Very funny. So, he was planning to play this for laughs at her expense? Well, at least he was being civilised. It could have been worse.
Georgia smiled an ironic smile. ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised, struggling to keep her eyes on his face as she spoke, though the temptation to examine the bronzed, muscular body, with its broad, powerful shoulders and taut, flat stomach, was very nearly irresistible. ‘I didn’t mean to fall asleep. But the room was so hot. I must have dozed off.’
‘You certainly must have. But don’t worry about it. You made an extremely charming, if unexpected, picture curled up there on the bed when I walked in.’
‘I only sat on the bed because the chair was so uncomfortable.’ She cast a quick, accusing glance at the low-backed chair in question and saw to her dismay that it was now draped with his clothes. Good grief. He must have undressed right here in the room in front of her. Thank heavens she hadn’t wakened in the middle of that!
‘I only meant,’ she added lamely, ‘to sit down for a minute.’
Inwardly, she was cringing at the grossness of her faux pas. Tired of pacing about the room, she’d gone to sit on the end of the bed, then, just to be more comfortable, had stretched out for a moment, certain she had the will-power not to fall asleep. She’d fully intended being on her feet when he finally came walking through the door! But she’d blown it. What an absolute idiot she’d been!
Not that Lasalle appeared even the least bit put out. Perhaps finding young females asleep on his bed was something that happened to him every day of the week. He hadn’t even bothered to ask how she’d got in!
Which was another thing. Why on earth had she come into his room in the first place? She must have been crazy, though it had seemed harmless at the time. Talk about walking into the lion’s den!
She watched as he switched on the pair of bedside lamps, her eyes lingering in spite of herself on the smooth, muscular back that rippled deliciously with every sinuous movement. Earlier today, she’d decided that Jean-Claude Lasalle was the most ravishing man she’d ever set eyes on in her life and nothing she was seeing now was causing her to revise that opinion. He really was a perfectly glorious specimen.
But hang on, she hadn’t come here to admire him, and it was actually the last thing she ought to be doing! That could lead to all sorts of trouble!
She cleared her throat as he turned to look at her again. ‘I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here...’ Before he could deny that—for he’d no doubt already come to his own conclusions!—she hurried on, carefully ignoring the amused glint in the blue eyes. ‘Well, I came here to apologise. For turning you away earlier without hearing what it was that you wanted to tell me.’ She smiled a contrite smile. ‘I was rude and I’m really sorry.’
As she paused, she was hoping she’d sounded convincing, for she hadn’t quite struck the note she’d intended. She’d been planning to plead a little and appeal to his male vanity, but, standing here in his bedroom with him dressed in just a towel, that hadn’t quite seemed the most appropriate thing to do.
She smiled again. ‘I made a mistake and I hope you can forgive me. I’d really like to hear what it was you came to tell me.’
Lasalle said nothing for a moment. He let his eyes scan her face in that intensely probing way he had. Then, abruptly, his gaze dropped down to scan the slim, cerise wool suit. ‘Why don’t you take something off?’ he said. ‘You must be incredibly hot.’
Take something off? So, that was what was on his mind! He probably hadn’t been listening to a single word she’d said!
Georgia regarded him calmly. ‘Actually, I’m not hot at all.’ It wasn’t true, of course, but that was scarcely the point! ‘I’m perfectly comfortable as I am, thank you very much.’
‘If you say so...but don’t tell me you plan on sleeping like that?’ His tone was amused. ‘Surely that would be a little uncomfortable?’ As he spoke, he casually tossed back the quilted bedcover. ‘Personally, I prefer to sleep with nothing on at all—at least, when I’m expecting female company.’
In vain, Georgia fought the vision that rushed up before her eyes. Him lying on the bed in perfect naked glory, one hand held out towards her, inviting her to join him.
That was quite bad enough, but what was twenty times worse was the shameless way she found herself reacting to this vision. She felt a thrust of pure longing, a wicked shiver down her spine.
Shame on you, Georgia. She squashed the feelings instantly and hurried to correct his total misreading of the situation.
‘Hang on a minute. You’ve got something terribly wrong here.’ Only half-conscious of what she was doing, she folded her arms like a barrier across her chest. ‘I came here to speak to you. I didn’t say anything about sleeping. I simply came to hear what it was you wanted to tell me.’
‘At this hour? At midnight?’
‘It wasn’t midnight when I arrived.’
‘Nevertheless, it’s midnight now.’ One black eyebrow lifted sceptically. ‘Do you really, seriously expect me to believe that you were waiting in my room at midnight in order to talk?’
‘Yes, I do, as a matter of fact.’ Georgia flashed him an angry look. ‘I’m afraid you’re deluding yourself if you think I came for anything else.’
As she spoke, she had to concentrate on keeping her eyes from the bed, which seemed suddenly to have grown to fill the entire room, not to mention having sprouted a set of bright red flashing lights.
‘I’ve been waiting for you for hours. Ask the receptionist downstairs. I’ve been here at the hotel since just after half past seven.’
‘My, you must have been keen.’
‘Yes, but not for what you think. The only reason I came at all and waited till now is because you told me you were leaving Bath tomorrow morning and that what you had to tell me was important and urgent. No other reason,’ she emphasized, fixing him with a hard look.
While she’d been reeling off this defence, Lasalle had seated himself on the bed.
‘What a shame.’ The blue eyes danced beneath their scandalously long lashes. ‘So what, may I ask, brought about this sudden change of mind?’
‘I realised I’d been too hasty.’ She tried a persuasive smile. ‘Look, I really am sorry for the way I acted earlier and I seriously do want to hear what you have to say.’
‘I’ve no doubt you do.’ He was slipping off his gold watch and laying it down on the bedside table. ‘Trouble is, it’s a bit late for serious discussions now.’
‘I know, and I apologize.’ She tried another persuasive smile. ‘Couldn’t you just tell me whatever it is very quickly?’
‘I’m afraid not.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s been a long day and I’m tired. The only thing on my agenda right now is bed.’
‘So, what are we going to do? You’re leaving tomorrow.’
‘You’re right. I am. So I guess that’s it.’ He sighed and paused a moment before adding, ‘Unless, of course, you feel like spending the night here. I suppose it’s always possible that we might manage to fit in a few minutes of serious discussion in the course of the night.’
Georgia was aware of a frosty look descending on her face. ‘I’m afraid that solution doesn’t appeal to me in the slightest.’ She glared at him for a moment, then carefully softened her expression. Somehow, she had to get round him and pin him down on her terms.
‘What about tomorrow morning? I could come here to the hotel early. We could fit in a few minutes before you leave.’ .
He was shaking his head again. ‘I’ll be leaving very early. And I’m not really a morning person. More of a night owl. Early-morning meetings aren’t my thing.’
‘But this is important!’ Georgia glared at him again. He was enjoying this, making her pay for turning him away earlier. She could see the amusement flickering across his face. ‘What am I going to do if you refuse to help me?’
‘I’m not refusing to help you. I told you...stay the night.’
This was impossible. ‘I’m not staying the night. What do you think I am? You’ve got a damned cheek!’
‘OK. It seems to me that’s the end of the discussion. If you’re not staying, I’m going to get some sleep now.’
And before she had a chance to close her eyes or turn away he was loosening the towel at his waist and tossing it to the floor. A moment later, in one smooth movement, he had slipped between the sheets.
Georgia’s cheeks had turned the same bright colour as her suit. Damned exhibitionist! He’d done that on purpose. But if he’d been trying to embarrass her into just turning around and leaving he was about to discover that she didn’t embarrass quite that easily!
She fixed him with a defiant look. ‘There must be some way round this. We could speak on the phone, for example. Give me your number and I’ll ring you.’
He was leaning back against the pillows, his hair very black against the white linen. He smiled at her. ‘I can see you’re reluctant to leave. So, why not just slip off your things and join me in here?’
She was getting nowhere. She was beaten. Angrily, Georgia turned away. ‘Don’t kid yourself. I’m not in the least reluctant to leave. I’m just sorry I made the mistake of coming in the first place.’ She stomped off towards the door. ‘Good night and goodbye.’
He made no answer, but she could feel the blue eyes following her. Then, as she snatched the door open and was about to step out into the corridor, he said, ‘If you still want to hear what I have to say, come to the hotel tomorrow afternoon about five.’
‘I thought you were leaving tomorrow morning...?’
Frowning, she turned to face him. But, at that precise moment, he switched off the bedside lights.
The sudden darkness blinded her, in spite of the faint light from the corridor. Georgia blinked and continued to stare unseeingly towards the bed. Had he really meant that invitation? Dared she believe him? She felt totally thrown. What had provoked this abrupt turnaround?
‘Are you still there?’ Suddenly, he spoke again. ‘Look, make up your mind. Either come here and join me or leave, closing the door behind you, and let me get some sleep. I don’t like people hovering about.’
Stifling a curse, Georgia stepped into the corridor and closed the door with a sharp, decisive click.
‘Well, this is what I call interesting! But I’m not really surprised. I knew he was much too gorgeous to be a villain!’
Georgia had told Kay all about her two meetings with Lasalle yesterday, including the ignominious business of her falling asleep on his bed, a scenario that had hugely amused her assistant.
‘What I don’t understand,’ she’d joked, ‘is why you refused to stay the night. A dish like that doesn’t walk into a girl’s life every day.’
There was no arguing with that, but, as Georgia told her now, ‘I’m still not as convinced as you are that he’s actually on the level.’ For, though she intended keeping the appointment at his hotel this afternoon, she still had a few lingering doubts about Jean-Claude Lasalle.
‘I don’t even know who he is, for heaven’s sake. In spite of what he was saying, he could still be one of Duval’s men. I mean, why on earth would someone suddenly show up like that, completely out of the blue, offering to help me? Maybe it’s all just an elaborate scheme to try and trick me. Today could turn out to be a total waste of time.’
‘Never.’ Kay was incorrigible. ‘How could a meeting with a man like that ever turn out to be a total waste of time?’ She fixed Georgia with a narrow look, half joking, half serious. ‘Who knows? This could finally be the Mr Wonderful you’ve been waiting for.’
‘Yes, and pigs might fly.’ At least Georgia was sure about one thing. Jean-Claude Lasalle was a pretty tasty packet of goods, but there was no way in the world he was going to turn out to be Mr Wonderful!
The Mr Wonderful thing was a joke that had grown up between her and Kay—who was her good friend as well as her valued assistant. Kay kept telling her it was time she found herself a man.
‘Work’s not everything,’ she would chide her. ‘You need a love life as well.’