Her Honourable Playboy. Kate Hardy

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СКАЧАТЬ was one point in his favour. He hadn’t turned up early, trying to put her on the spot; and he hadn’t turned up late, making her stew even more about this whole stupid situation.

      She opened the door and her eyes widened.

      Seb usually wore a suit at work, but so did the other male consultants. And, sure, she’d seen his picture in the gossip rags often enough, with a woman hanging onto his arm and batting her eyelashes. But she hadn’t been prepared for just how good he looked in the flesh, wearing a dinner jacket. Dress shirt. Bow-tie—a proper one, hand-tied, rather than a fake one. Skin freshly shaven. Hair neat. Shoes—hand-made Italian leather which he’d probably bought in Milan, knowing him—perfectly shined.

      Everything precisely calculated to make a woman swoon.

      Well, she wasn’t an ordinary woman. She wasn’t going to swoon.

      Even if, just for a moment, she would have liked to.

      ‘Hi,’ he said.

      Then he smiled.

      He had a dimple. A dimple. How come she’d never noticed it at work? That dimple completely undermined his sophisticated act. It made him look cute. And it made her want to reach out and touch him. Just the tip of her finger to the middle of his dimple. From there it would be a tiny, tiny distance to the corner of his mouth. And then tracing the outline of that full lower lip, one that promised the most mind-blowing kisses.

      Uh.

      She pulled herself together and hoped he hadn’t noticed her hesitation. ‘Hello, Seb.’

      ‘Ready?’

      Not in a million years. ‘Sure,’ she said, affecting a calm she definitely didn’t feel.

      ‘Let’s go.’

      He had a low-slung sports car. An expensive boy toy. Well, Seb would.

      ‘Like the car?’ Seb asked.

      She shrugged. ‘It’s got four wheels.’ And every bit of chrome was polished to a high sheen. The leather interior was flawless. Clearly it was his pride and joy.

      ‘This,’ he said with a grin, ‘isn’t just a car. It’s a vintage E-type Jaguar.’

      She couldn’t help herself. ‘Fancy yourself as James Bond?’ Though, she had to admit, he’d make a good James Bond. Smoother than Sean Connery—or Pierce Brosnan, her favourite. Sexier, too.

      ‘No, that’d be an Aston Martin. Everyone remembers the DB5 from Thunderball—or maybe you’re thinking about the V12 in Die Another Day.’

      A car was just a car in her eyes—but trust him to know the difference. Still, it could’ve been worse. She wouldn’t have put it past Seb Radley to pick her up in a stretch limo with a chauffeur in full livery.

      He opened the door for her. Polite, but not pushy—or maybe he just didn’t want anyone else’s fingerprints on the car’s paintwork.

      OK. She could do this. It was just one evening, that was all. Not a date, and there was no future in it. Nothing to worry about.

      When Seb had joined her in the car and fastened his seat belt, she asked, ‘Where are we going?’

      ‘A quiet restaurant.’

      ‘Not out partying?’ She couldn’t help the snipe.

      He came straight back with, ‘Didn’t think it was your style.’

      A low blow, but she supposed she deserved it.

      She didn’t say much during the rest of the drive, just let him concentrate on the driving. And he was a good driver. She’d give him that.

      The restaurant turned out to be small and discreet, overlooking the Thames. And Seb, of course, had got the best possible table, by the window—just perfect for watching the sky darken and all the lights come out.

      ‘Very pretty,’ she said.

      He shrugged. ‘The food’s good.’

      The waiter, when he brought them the menu, addressed Seb by name. Clearly it was a favourite haunt of the Hon. Sebastian Radley. The waiter also didn’t give her a second look so, equally clearly, Seb must bring a lot of women there. Alyssa was just one in a long, long line.

      Not that it should sting. This wasn’t a date, and she wasn’t interested in Sebastian. There was absolutely nothing to feel upset about. She pushed the emotions back where they belonged. Buried.

      This was an expensive place, too, she thought, because there were no prices on the menu. Obviously he intended to impress. Well, she wasn’t twenty-five any more. She didn’t fall for surface charm. ‘What do you recommend?’ she asked.

      He looked casually down the list. ‘It’s all good. Order whatever takes your fancy.’

      Well, at least he wasn’t going to order for her.

      ‘What would you like to drink?’ he asked.

      She hadn’t expected that. ‘I thought you’d prefer to order,’ she blurted out—and could have kicked herself at the amused look on his face.

      ‘I’m not that much of a chauvinist. I don’t know your taste, so I’d rather you picked something you like.’

      He was being thoughtful? Maybe she’d misjudged him. ‘What about you?’

      He shrugged. ‘I’m driving, so I’m only having one glass. I’m happy to go with your choice.’

      OK. She’d take that at face value. When the waiter came back, she ordered a bone-dry Sancerre and chicken livers with bacon, followed by monkfish.

      To her surprise, Seb followed suit.

      ‘I thought you’d be—’

      ‘A red-meat man?’ He finished her words, and smiled. ‘I like food. All sorts of food.’

      That little flicker in his slate-blue eyes meant that ‘all sorts’ applied to more than just food. Seb was trying to flirt with her.

      Well, tough. She wasn’t interested in flirting with him, or anything else. As soon as tonight was over, they’d be back to being colleagues—and, as far as she was concerned, the sooner the better.

      Even if he was drop-dead gorgeous.

      Even if he did have that cute little dimple.

      Even if his mouth just invited a kiss.

      Seb Radley was trouble, and she’d already had more than enough trouble in her life. She wasn’t going to get involved. Not at all.

      A woman who knew what she liked. Seb definitely approved of that. He was bored, bored, bored with the air-headed debutante type who hung on his every word and expected him to make all the choices.

      Alyssa was very far from being an airhead. She was interesting. СКАЧАТЬ