Sharon Kendrick Collection. Sharon Kendrick

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      ‘And what on earth can I wear?’ she wailed.

      ‘Wear what you want.’ He shrugged. ‘You always look pretty good to me.’

      She had received better compliments in her life, but none had she embraced as warmly as Guy’s careless words and she had to force herself to suppress the guilt. She was letting go, and starting to live again—and there was nothing unacceptable about enjoying a compliment.

      It still didn’t solve the problem of what to wear, of course.

      Guy left at the crack of dawn the following morning. Sabrina heard him moving around the flat and for once came, yawning, out into the hall to say goodbye to him.

      His hand tightened around the handle of his briefcase as he saw her hair in all its tousled disarray tumbling down over her shoulders. Was she trying to play the siren? he wondered distractedly. But that was just the thing—he honestly didn’t think she was.

      ‘Have you remembered your passport?’

      ‘Sabrina!’ he exploded. ‘I’ve been flying to Paris at least once a month for the last I don’t know how long! How the hell do you think I managed before you came into my life?’ It had been a calm, ordered time which was slowly but surely fading from his memory, the end of which had seemed to coincide with him urging her to let her guilt and her sorrow go. He had only himself to blame, and yet he hadn’t realised how familiar it could feel, living with a woman—even if you weren’t having sex with her. He winced. Why remind himself of that?

      ‘Send me a postcard.’ Sabrina smiled.

      ‘I won’t have time,’ he said tightly, because he was having to fight the terrible urge to kiss her goodbye—as if she were his wife or something. His smile tasted like acid on his mouth. ‘And don’t forget to book the damned restaurant!’

      ‘I won’t forget.’ She stood at the front door until he’d disappeared out of sight, praying that he would turn round and give her that rare and brilliant smile. But he didn’t.

      Sabrina felt more than a little intimidated at the thought of booking a meal at a place she had only ever read about in magazines. Wouldn’t even her best dress look out of place in a venue as upmarket as that? And, when she thought about it, wouldn’t Prince Khalim be bored rigid with going to fancy restaurants, and Guy, too, for that matter? Wouldn’t they rather try something a little different?

      She spent her lunch-hour scouring the restaurant section of the capital’s biggest glossy magazine, and eventually found what she’d half thought she’d been looking for. She picked up the phone and booked it.

      But Guy was delayed in Paris. He phoned that night.

      ‘This deal is taking longer than I thought,’ he said, and she could hear the sounds of people in the background. ‘I may even have to stay over for a few days.’

      ‘A few days?’

      ‘You’ll be OK on your own, won’t you?’

      Sabrina pulled a face. She couldn’t be missing him already, could she? ‘Yes, of course I will.’

      ‘Just lock up carefully.’ There was a pause. ‘Ring Tom Roberts if you need anything. Actually, I’ll ring him—get him to keep an eye on you.’

      ‘I don’t need anyone to keep an eye on me! You make me sound helpless!’ she objected, and could hear the smile in his response.

      ‘Not helpless, Sabrina. Maybe just a little vulnerable at the moment.’ And make damned sure you remember that, he thought grimly as he hung up before tapping out Tom’s number.

      Guy arrived back from Paris on Saturday morning, feeling all frazzled and frayed around the edges as he walked into the kitchen to a delicious smell of coffee. Sabrina was already dressed, busy buttering a slice of toast. He paused for a moment which felt dangerous. Because his kitchen had never felt more of a home than it did at that moment.

      He’d missed her, he realised with a sudden sense of shock.

      ‘Hi,’ he said softly.

      Sabrina turned round slowly, trying to compose her face, making sure that every trace of leaping excitement had been eradicated from her features. She smiled instead. ‘Welcome home! How was your trip? Would you like some coffee?’

      He wanted something a lot more fundamental than coffee, but he nodded his head, sat down at the table and took the mug of coffee she slid towards him.

      ‘You’re up early,’ he commented.

      ‘I’m working today, remember?’

      He frowned. Had it really been three weeks since the last time she’d been in the shop on Saturday morning? ‘Yeah.’ He sighed. He’d been almost tempted to take the day off himself, and to ask her whether she wanted to go to a gallery with him, but if she was working…‘I guess I might as well go in myself.’ He yawned.

      Sabrina fixed him with a stern look. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Guy! You’ve only just got back from Paris. Give yourself a break!’

      He glared at her. ‘I’ve managed to get along just fine for the last thirty-two years without anyone telling me how to live my life, if it’s all the same to you, Sabrina.’ He paused. ‘Did you book the restaurant?’

      ‘I did,’ she said steadily, without missing a beat.

      ‘Which one?’

      Her bright smiled didn’t falter. ‘It’s a surprise!’

      ‘A surprise?’

      She wondered what had caused that sudden hardening of his voice. ‘You don’t like surprises?’

      ‘No,’ he clipped out, and then saw her crestfallen face and relented. It was unpredictability he shied away from. She wasn’t to know that surprises made him feel as though the control which was so fundamental to him could be in danger of slipping away. Loosen up, he told himself—just as he’d told her to. He smiled. ‘It had better be a good one.’

      ‘Oh, I think it will be.’

      ‘We’re picking Khalim up from his hotel at eight.’

      She nodded, trying to be helpful. ‘So shall I order us a car, too?’

      ‘Yes,’ he murmured, wondering why he got the distinct impression that the balance of power had somehow shifted in this relationship without him really noticing. He’d wanted her to try and let the past go, but he hadn’t expected such an enchanting switch into sexy and sassy and bossy mode. It was much too irresistible a transformation. ‘Thanks,’ he added heavily.

      Sabrina spent hours in the bathroom getting ready, comfortable in the knowledge that she wouldn’t be holding Guy up. Thank heavens there were three, she thought, remembering her initial shock at discovering that one flat had three bathrooms all to itself. Back in Salisbury her mother would have been beating the door down by now.

      In the spare room, she pulled out the hanger on which hung the dress she’d bought after work yesterday, and she looked at it with eager eyes. It was a dream—easily СКАЧАТЬ