The Trouble with Valentine's. Kelly Hunter

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СКАЧАТЬ it. ‘Sorry. No spark.’

      ‘I’m not sure I can justify paying five thousand pounds for kisses without spark.’ His lips twitched. ‘I’m thinking spark is a must.’

      ‘Spark is not part of the negotiation,’ she said sweetly. ‘Spark is a freebie. It’s either there or it’s not.’

      ‘Ah.’ There was a gleam in his eyes she didn’t entirely trust. ‘Turn around,

      Mother.’ And, without waiting to see if his mother complied, Nicholas Cooper threaded his hands through her hair and his mouth descended on hers.

      Hallie didn’t have time to protest. To prepare herself for his invasion as he teased her lips apart for a kiss that was anything but perfunctory. Plenty of chemistry here now, she thought hazily as his lips moved on hers, warm, lazy, and very, very knowledgeable. Plenty of heat as her mouth opened beneath his and she tasted passion and it was richer, riper than she’d ever known. She melted against him, sliding her hands across his shoulders to twine around his neck as he slanted his head and took her deeper, tasting her with his tongue, curling it around her own in a delicate duel.

      If this was kissing, she thought with an incoherent little gasp, then she’d never really been kissed before. If this was kissing, imagine what making love to him would be like …

      His smile was crookedly endearing when he finally lifted his mouth from hers, his hands gentle as he smoothed her hair back in place. ‘Now that was much better,’ he said in that delicious bedroom voice and she damn near melted in a puddle at his size twelve feet. ‘We’ll take the shoes.’

      Right. The shoes. Hallie boxed the sandals with unsteady hands, swiped his credit card through the machine, fumbled for a pen and waited for him to sign the docket before she risked looking at him again. His hands were large like his feet, and his hair was mussed from where her hands had been.

      What would it be like to pretend to be this man’s wife for a week? Foolish, certainly, not to mention hazardous to her perfectly healthy sex drive. What if he was as good as his kiss implied? Who would ever measure up to him?

      No. Too risky. Besides, she’d have to be crazy to go to Hong Kong for a week with a perfect stranger. What if he was a white slave trader? What if he left her there?

      What if he was perfect?

      He was halfway across the room before she opened her mouth. Almost to the door before she spoke. ‘So you’ll get back to me on the wife thing?’

      At five thirty-five that afternoon, Hallie counted the day’s takings. It wasn’t hard; she’d only made three sales and that included the shoes Nicholas Cooper had purchased for his mother. Next, she shut the customer door, turned the elegant little door sign to ‘closed’, and was about to set the alarm system when a breathless courier rapped on the display window and held up a flat rectangular parcel.

      Not shoes, thought Hallie. Shoes did not arrive by courier in flat little parcels, even designer ones. But the courier’s credentials looked real, the address on the parcel was that of the shop, and the name on the paperwork was hers so she opened up with a sigh, signed for the parcel, and locked up behind him before turning back to the parcel.

      It was a brown-paper package tied up with string. Hard to resist, what with it being a favourite thing and all. Besides, it was Valentine’s Day. Good things happened on Valentine’s Day. Unexpected things. Hopefully it wasn’t a bomb.

      Hallie snipped and ripped to reveal a slim travel guide to Hong Kong and Nicholas Cooper’s business card. The card said he was a gaming software developer. Good to know. She flipped it over and discovered a message on the back.

      ‘Marco’s on Kings’, it read in bold black scrawl, and beneath that, ‘7 pm tonight, Nick’.

      Presumptuous, yes, he was certainly that. His kiss had been presumptuous too.

      Not to mention annoyingly unforgettable.

      So what if Marco’s was one of the best seafood restaurants this side of heaven? So what if raindrops on roses might conceivably be in Nick Cooper’s repertoire? No sensible woman would even consider his proposal. Pretending to be a complete stranger’s wife for a week was ridiculous, even by her standards.

      And yet …

      Hallie reached for the travel guide and smoothed it open, first one page, and then another.

      Hong Kong; gateway to the Orient. Money and superstition. Heat and a million camera shops. A squillion neon signs.

      ‘An enchanting blend of East meets West,’ read the travel guide. Half a world away from this shoe shop, whispered her brain. Ten thousand pounds.

      So there were a few drawbacks.

      Lies. Deception. Nick Cooper’s kisses. Hallie tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and closed the book with a snap.

      Big drawbacks.

      And yet …

      Twenty minutes later, Hallie let herself in through the front door of her brother’s Chelsea flat and dumped her handbag on the sideboard. Why Tris had bought the little two-bedroom apartment when he never stayed more than a year in any one place was a mystery, but she certainly appreciated the use of it. No telling what Tris would make of Nicholas Cooper’s offer.

      Probably best not to tell him.

      Ten thousand pounds, whispered her brain as she slipped off her shoes and padded down the hallway.

      No.

      Dinner at Marco’s, then. It’s only dinner.

      No it’s not. If you go to dinner you’ll ask him why he needs a wife for a week and then where will you be? Next thing you know, you’ll be agreeing to go to Hong Kong with him.

       So?

      Travel was her middle name.

      Oh, boy. Hallie stumbled over the hallway runner and wondered just what it was about Nicholas Cooper that made her lose her mind.

      He had a wicked smile. No doubt about it.

      And his offer was definitely intriguing.

      A rueful smile tugged at her lips. Best not to even think about his kisses.

      Come ten to seven, Hallie had finished her argument and was in the bathroom, hurriedly applying makeup, when she heard the front door open and close, followed by the sound of a man’s long, loping strides down the hall. Moments later Tris appeared in the doorway, little more than a vague shadow at the edge of her vision. ‘You’re back,’ she said, busy with the mascara. ‘I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.’

      ‘Plans change,’ he said. ‘Going somewhere?’

      ‘Dinner at Marco’s on Kings Road.’

      ‘Classy.’ Was it just her imagination or was Tris a whole lot more preoccupied than usual? ‘Who with?’

      Ah. That was more like it. ‘Nick.’

      ‘Nick?’

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