London's Eligible Bachelors. Sharon Kendrick

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Hell, was that the time? ‘It’s later than I thought. Come on in. Let me take your cases. We’re just finishing brunch.’

      ‘At this time?’

      ‘Why not?’ he said softly. ‘It’s Sunday. No deadlines.’

      ‘If you’re busy I can go away and come back later,’ she said, although as soon as the words were out of her mouth she realised how ridiculous they sounded—because where on earth would she go on a late spring afternoon in a city where she knew nobody?

      He smiled as he took the suitcases from her, thinking how cold she looked. How she always looked as if she needed protecting. His protection. ‘Don’t be silly,’ he said softly. ‘Come on in. You look frozen.’

      Well, she was shivering, yes, but that had more to do with the reality of seeing him in the glorious, living flesh. Of hearing his rich, deep voice. It had only been a few weeks, but it seemed like a whole lifetime since she had last seen him. How could she have so easily forgotten the impact he had on her—as compelling now as when she had first set eyes on him?

      She followed him inside, but her nerves were jangled even further when she saw just how amazing his home was—all light and space and breathtakingly big windows.

      The walls were painted in some pale, cool colour with modern paintings which might have looked out of place in a period building but looked as though they had been designed to hang just there.

      He gestured towards a sweeping staircase. ‘I’ll show you your room in a minute. Come on up and meet the others first.’

      Oh, lord, and here she was looking all grubby and windswept. And whilst Guy looked pretty ruffled himself, he managed to look extremely sexy into the bargain.

      There was no time to do anything except hastily smooth down her hair, and she followed him upstairs, trying to look anywhere but at the denim which hugged his narrow hips as he walked.

      She could hear the muffled notes of lazy laughter—feminine laughter—and the chinking of glasses, and a sense of apprehension washed over her, even though she forced herself to pin a smile onto her lips. They can’t eat me, she told herself. They’re Guy’s friends.

      Guy glanced down at her as he put the cases down. She looked bushed. And fragile. And yet…yet…

      A pulse began a slow, heavy dance at his temple as he pushed the door open.

      ‘Come on in and say hi. This is Sabrina,’ he announced, as three faces looked up. ‘Sabrina Cooper.’

      The first thing that registered was that two of the three occupants of the room were female. And that one of them was a heart-stoppingly beautiful brunette who was stretched out on a huge lemon sofa, painting her toenails and wearing a lazy smile.

      She had on a pair of jeans which had been carefully constructed to emphasise every curve of her delectable bottom. As did the teeny-weeny T-shirt which came to just above her smooth brown navel. So, did she, wondered Sabrina with an unsteady thump of her heart, belong to Guy?

      ‘This is Jenna Jones.’ Guy smiled.

      Jenna gave a polite smile. ‘Hi,’ she said shortly.

      The other sofa was occupied by a man who was looking at Sabrina with interest. At his feet sat the second woman, her hair twisted into a topknot, and they were both drinking champagne out of long, frosted flutes.

      ‘And this is Tom Roberts, my cousin,’ said Guy. ‘Our mothers are sisters.’

      Sabrina looked at Tom, trying to see any family resemblance, but she couldn’t. But, then, Tom’s face was neither so haughty nor so aloof as Guy’s. ‘Hello.’

      Tom crinkled her a smile. ‘Hello, Sabrina.’

      ‘And Trudi Herley—his fiancée.’

      ‘Come and sit down and have some champagne, Sabrina,’ said Trudi. ‘Have you eaten?’ She pointed to the remains of what Sabrina assumed had been brunch, which lay on trays scattered in the centre of the room.

      At least they seemed friendlier than Jenna, who hadn’t moved and was staring at Sabrina with a decidedly moody look on her face. She looked over at Guy.

      ‘You haven’t told us about Sabrina, Guy, darling.’

      ‘Haven’t I?’ For no good reason, Guy suddenly resented the implication that he should have done.

      He poured out a flute of champagne and handed it to Sabrina, putting his hand in the small of her back and propelling her towards one of the chairs. ‘Go and sit down over there.’

      Feeling a little like a marionette, Sabrina obeyed, gulping nervously at the glass of bubbly as he lowered his long-legged frame into a chair opposite her.

      Who were these people? And who was Jenna, for goodness’ sake? That possessive look she was currently slanting at Guy suggested that the two of them were more than just friends. He hadn’t brought that into the equation when he’d suggested she come and stay with him.

      ‘So where did you two meet?’ persisted Jenna.

      Ice-grey eyes glittered coolly in Sabrina’s direction. ‘We met in Venice,’ Guy said slowly, seeing her body stiffen in recollection and feeling his own slow, answering response.

      Sabrina studied her glass of champagne intently, feeling as naïve as it was possible to feel. Why had she said she would come here? Because there was a part of her which had been secretly hoping that they might fall into each other’s arms again? Why hadn’t she considered that he had a life she knew nothing about? With other women and other friends? Who obviously were not about to welcome her with open arms. Not if Jenna’s reaction was anything to go by.

      ‘Venice?’ echoed Tom, and threw him a curious look. ‘When you flew over to buy that painting?’

      ‘That’s right,’ said Guy succinctly, and drained his glass.

      ‘But I thought you never mixed business and pleasure?’

      ‘I don’t,’ came Guy’s smooth retort. ‘Not usually.’

      Sabrina saw Tom raise his eyebrows in surprise.

      ‘And what were you doing in Venice, Sabrina?’ asked Jenna.

      ‘I was there on holiday.’

      ‘On your own?’

      Sabrina saw Guy frown at the question, and something in the quality of the brief, hard look he sent her gave her the courage to be truthful. Just for once she allowed herself to focus on the pleasure of their lovemaking, instead of the guilt, and a dreamy smile curved her mouth. ‘That’s right,’ she said softly. ‘It’s the most wonderful place to explore on your own—you never know what you might find there.’

      Guy’s eyes were arrowed in her direction, their dark glitter telling her that he shared the erotic memory.

      ‘So where exactly do you live?’ persisted Jenna.

      ‘In Salisbury.’

      ‘Really? СКАЧАТЬ