Platinum Coast. Lynne Pemberton

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СКАЧАТЬ catch on quick, Miss O’Neill.’

      The loud blare of a car horn woke Christina the following morning.

      She sat up and stared at her surroundings, confused for a few moments, until she realized that she was in Stephen’s bed in his flat in London.

      She recalled their lovemaking of the previous evening and, with a satisfied grin on her face, sank back down into the deep feather pillows.

      A few moments later she looked up as Stephen appeared at the door, dressed in a long navy-blue bathrobe and carrying a tray of scrambled eggs and smoked salmon, plus a jug of what looked like fizzy orange juice and two glasses.

      ‘Good morning. Sleep well?’

      ‘Like a log, but I always wake early whatever time I go to bed. I’m afraid I’ve got an inbuilt alarm clock. I crept out of bed like a mouse this morning so as not to disturb you.’

      ‘What’s that?’ She pointed to the tray.

      ‘This is breakfast in bed, Stephen Reece-Carlton-style. So come along, young lady, sit up. We’re going to eat.’

      He dropped his robe and she averted her eyes, suddenly embarrassed at the sight of Stephen’s lean, muscular body. He noticed her embarrassment and quickly slid into bed next to her, pulling the covers over his nakedness and placing the tray between them.

      He handed her a fork and a napkin.

      ‘Dig in. It’s delicious.’

      ‘What’s the orange stuff in the eggs?’ she asked, pushing her fork into the centre of the plate.

      ‘It’s smoked salmon.’ He poured a glass of the fizzy orange mixture, saying, ‘One Bucks Fizz coming up.’

      ‘Bucks Fizz?’ She raised her straight eyebrows and took the glass.

      ‘Champagne and freshly squeezed orange juice.’

      ‘This is a very decadent breakfast,’ she said between sips of Bucks Fizz. ‘You’re spoiling me, Stephen.’

      He looked at the napkin draped across her breasts, one pert nipple protruding.

      ‘And why not?’

      ‘Talking of spoiling …’ Christina ran her fingers up the inside of his thigh. ‘Why don’t I try spoiling you a little in return?’

      Stephen put the tray on the floor.

      ‘Why not indeed?’

      It was almost midday when they left Stephen’s flat and walked to High Street Kensington where they hailed a cab to the West End.

      They wandered hand in hand down Bond Street, idly window-shopping, with Christina chatting non-stop.

      ‘What a fantastic dress.’ She pointed to a black silk creation in the window of Yves St Laurent.

      ‘It would look a lot better on you than on that skinny mannequin,’ Stephen declared, and before she could say another word he pulled her towards the big glass entrance door. ‘Come on, try it on.’

      ‘No, Stephen, it will cost the earth. I can’t afford Yves St Laurent,’ she protested.

      ‘But I can,’ he remarked, and pushed her into the shop.

      An elderly shop assistant dressed in a simple yet very chic Yves St Laurent shift dress came towards them.

      ‘Can I help?’ she asked, staring disdainfully at Christina, who was now acutely aware of her creased trousers and cheap blouson shirt.

      ‘We’re interested in the black dress in the window,’ Stephen said.

      The assistant beamed at him.

      ‘Oh, yes, it’s stunning.’

      She glanced at Christina, weighing her up.

      ‘Size ten, I would say.’

      Christina held her head high and stared back aloofly. ‘You’re dead right.’

      ‘Charlotte, check if we have a size ten in the black silk, please,’ she snapped at a girl standing a few feet away.

      Charlotte arrived a few minutes later with the black dress draped over her arm. She smiled warmly at them both and gestured to Christina. ‘The changing-rooms are over here.’

      She followed the young girl, throwing a wary look at Stephen as she passed.

      The dress fitted perfectly.

      It was made from pure silk chiffon, cut very low at the back, almost to her waist, and falling in soft tiers to the knee. Thick black satin ribbon edged the hem and formed a waist, accentuating Christina’s own small waist.

      Stephen let out a low whistle as she emerged from the changing-room.

      ‘The dress was made for you,’ the assistant gushed in her best sales voice.

      Stephen dragged his eyes away from Christina, who looked much older and more sophisticated in the elegant dress. ‘We’ll take it,’ he told the assistant, ignoring Christina’s shocked expression.

      She was about to say ‘But you haven’t even asked the price’, then bit her tongue, thinking that the dress was probably more than the rental on her flat for a whole year. She knew which she would rather have.

      ‘Go on, get changed.’ Stephen pushed her back into the changing-room.

      ‘How much is it?’ she hissed.

      ‘Don’t worry about the price. You look beautiful in it.’

      ‘But, Stephen …’

      ‘Shush.’ He placed two fingers gently across her mouth, then walked towards the counter, putting a gold American Express card in the hand of the beaming shop assistant.

      ‘She looked stunning in it,’ the woman was saying as Christina emerged from the dressing-room and dropped the dress on the counter next to Stephen.

      Sheets of tissue paper encased it before it was placed carefully in a smart black monogrammed carrier bag and handed to Christina, who was still flustered as they walked out onto Bond Street.

      ‘You really shouldn’t have done that.’

      She sounded upset. He was surprised. He’d expected her to be pleased.

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because I know it must have been very expensive, and … it’s embarrassing.’

      ‘I really thought you’d be delighted. It was done only with that intent.’ He stared straight ahead.

      Neither of them spoke for a few minutes until she broke the silence.

      ‘It’s СКАЧАТЬ