Max's Proposal. Jane Donnelly
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Название: Max's Proposal
Автор: Jane Donnelly
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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Until she had collided, as it were, with Max Vella, tonight had been work. She had been in no mood for partying. But now she was having fun, and when they left the gravel path and he continued to carry her over smoother flagstones, right into the courtyard, she made no move to get down.
Among the crowds they were the star turn so far this evening, and Sara was getting a fit of giggles at all the surprised faces turned towards them. As guests stepped aside for their host and his burden, she kept one arm round his neck and dangled her shoes in the other hand. A woman who owned several exclusive fashion shops right out of Sara’s price range asked, ‘Hurt your foot, dear?’
Sara said brightly, ‘Shoe trouble.’
‘How very convenient.’ The woman gave a sly smirk.
Max said, ‘It was my pleasure.’
‘You might have put that differently,’ Sara whispered in his ear.
‘My very great pleasure,’ he said.
‘They still don’t think that meant what you meant.’
‘Do you care what others think? Would it bother you, getting talked about?’
A few of the guests would be watching the fireworks display from windows, but it was a dry evening and almost everyone had come outside, where a throng of onlookers was circling the high structure of kindling and fuel that would soon blaze into the bonfire. Everybody seemed to be chattering, and the main topic would be that not only had Max Vella had a very private session with what’s-her-name from the local paper but he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her long enough to put her down and let her stand on her own feet.
The bonfire went up with a marvellous whoosh as Max gently put Sara down. Then they stood and watched the wonderful display of fireworks. Some of the time she held onto his arm, sometimes he put an arm around her, but they stayed linked together. The last rocket of all was the most spectacular, throwing out star after star which fell away until the final burst of white light, the biggest and the best, rose in the sky so high it seemed to be vanishing. Then it fell, like a great shooting star, to a chorus of delighted gasps.
Sara turned to Max. ‘That has to be the star for wishing on.’
‘So are you wishing?’
‘Are you?’
‘I don’t do much wishing.’
‘You don’t have much left to wish for.’
‘When I see something I want,’ he said softly, ‘I promise myself.’ Like the Moated House...
With fingertips he brushed her hair back from her forehead out of her eyes and she felt the shock of it like a body blow, because the gesture seemed as intimate as if his hand had been on her breast and he had kissed her full on the lips.
He was looking down at her. One heavy eyebrow was broken by a thin white scar that gave it a devilish quirk in the flickering glow of the fire. His eyes were so dark they were unreadable, and her mouth went dry because suddenly she had no doubt at all of his meaning. Max Vella wanted her...
CHAPTER TWO
MAX VELLA was not the first and he would not be the last man to want Sara—she had always attracted admirers. A few hours ago she could never have imagined Max Vella fancying her. Tonight it was possible. Surprising but possible, and she said with mock gravity, ‘What if your promise wasn’t on offer?’
‘That might make things more difficult.’ He was certainly coming on to her, but this was said with a smile, not to be taken seriously, and Sara was bubbling with laughter, all her problems forgotten for a few hours.
When the party-goers were surging out of the courtyard, back into the house and the buffet and the band, Max still held her hand through his arm. She was wearing her shoes again now, and if he asked her to dance she would dance, but in the great hall, at the foot of the wide oak-panelled staircase, he asked, ‘Do you want the guided tour?’
She had never seen more than the grounds and the ground floor, when she had come here covering charity functions. She had heard the house was fabulous and of course she was curious. If he was offering to show her around himself that was an incredible bonus. ‘I would like that very much,’ she said, and knew that most of the company watched speechless as she and Max Vella went up the staircase together.
Up here there were lights everywhere, and the sounds of the Bonfire Night Ball reached them. Household staff occasionally flitted around but most of these rooms and corridors were empty. The Moated House had fallen on hard times when Vella had bought it but now it looked as it must have done in its glory days. Sara was entranced, and awestruck at the mighty effort and expense that must have gone into restoring the house.
The decor and furniture were perfect. Every piece seemed right for its setting, and Max Vella told her how he had acquired some of them. From private collections and salesrooms, Sotheby’s, Christie’s, auctions all over the country and abroad. In getting what he wanted the master of the Moated House seemed to have set himself no bounds.
When she gasped with delight at a charming pair of porcelain figures of Harlequin and Columbine he took Columbine out of the black lacquered cabinet and put it into Sara’s hands. ‘She’s lovely,’ she said.
‘Chelsea red anchor period.’ Whatever that was. If she had not been a collector’s piece she would not have been here, but Sara wondered if he had ever looked into the exquisite little face and thought how pretty she was.
‘She’s lovely,’ Sara said again. ‘It’s magic, this house. I don’t know how you could ever think of leaving it.’
‘Did I say I was?’
‘You said you were probably staying.’
The scarred eyebrow lifted. ‘Always the newshound. You do remember what you hear.’ He was teasing her, and she looked up from the little figurine with a slanting smile.
‘If it’s interesting enough, I remember.’
Flirting and fooling with Max Vella was a heady experience. When Sara got away from here she might find it hard to believe that this had been going on, although there would be plenty around to remind her. By tomorrow she would be the talk of the town for a few days. Well it was worth it. She was having a really good time—seeing the house, being flatteringly targeted by a mesmerising man and she’d almost been promised an interview. Let them talk. She had weathered worse gossip before now. ‘I should be going. I’m in the office in the morning. It has been a memorable evening.’
‘For me too.’ He sounded like a courteous host. ‘Are you driving back?’
Her little car was parked with others near a side door, which meant she didn’t have to push her way through the throng and she could get away almost unnoticed. Max Vella went with her, and she wished he had not. With him standing over her, she could hardly keep her hand steady enough to get her car keys into the door lock, and then in the ignition. She did manage to say, ‘You won’t forget about the interview?’
‘Could СКАЧАТЬ