Bittersweet Passion. Lynne Graham
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Название: Bittersweet Passion
Автор: Lynne Graham
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Mills & Boon Modern
isbn: 9781474029599
isbn:
‘Yes.’ Claire reddened. ‘It’s all a wedding present.’
Before anything more could be said, she was carried off to the wash-basins, her spectacles banished to her handbag. The maestro who embarked on her long, red-gold hair made faces of disapproval, lifting up strands here and there that she had chopped personally. In all, he generally exasperated her. ‘I only want it trimmed,’ she said loftily.
‘I do not trim, I style,’ he retaliated, and someone giggled nearby. Mortified, she shut up and watched morosely as great hunks of hair hit the floor. The make-up session was worse. Tickled and pummelled, she lay there marvelling that anyone could enjoy such an event. At the end of it all she peered myopically at the blur in the mirror and then fumbled down into her handbag for her specs to withdraw them in dismay. Someone must have put a foot on her bag. The lenses were smashed.
‘Well?’ the female artiste prompted.
‘Marvellous,’ Claire said quickly, running wary fingers through her shorn hair. At the hotel she could let herself down by sticking her nose into the mirror.
Out at reception Hannah enthused, ‘My goodness, you look fabulous, Claire. Dane was right …’
Claire gave her full marks for that flattering stunned tone she had managed to inject into her voice and remained unimpressed. Hannah was kind. She wouldn’t even have put it past Dane to instruct his secretary to say something like that.
Unfortunately it was much too late to think of calling on Max when she got back to the hotel. Sighing, she wandered into the bathroom to study her new image. The sleek, chin-length bob with the fly-away fringe gleamed with attractive coppery highlights, shaping an unusual triangular face that seemed all eyes and mouth and no longer quite hers. Wasn’t it incredible what could be done with make-up? She marvelled as she stared at her beautiful face, the huge witch-green eyes flecked with gold and the new sultry cast of her generous mouth easily written off by her critical, unappreciative gaze.
Dinner was wheeled in on a fancy cart. After she had eaten she donned a floral nightgown and curled up on the sofa to watch TV. It was barely nine and she was extremely tired. Falling asleep was simply a matter of closing her aching eyes.
‘Breakfast … lord, you look like a panda!’ a familiar voice mocked and she surfaced in time for Dane to pull her up against the plumped up pillows and plant a tray on her lap.
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