Desert Sheikhs Collection: Part 1. Jane Porter

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СКАЧАТЬ minute now she would be telling him what colour boxer shorts he was wearing—Darian regretted that thought instantly, as it was met with an answering jerk of desire.

      With a small sigh of something like relief, he drew into the parking lot of the restaurant and Lara peered through the window, interested to see where he had chosen. She had been so wrapped up in him that she had barely noticed where they were going, and this was an area of London she realised she didn’t know at all. Had she been half expecting him to opt for some glitzy place right in the centre of the city?

      Because this was the very opposite. It was a small, unpretentious building with fairy lights strung outside, making tiny blurry rainbows through the misty autumn air, and as she opened the car door she heard the sound of music. It conjured up memories of days when money had been tight, days when people were happy to eat simply because they were hungry, and not because a restaurant was theplace to be seen. A little sigh escaped from her lips. Nostalgia could be very powerful.

      ‘Where’s this?’

      In the circumstances, Darian didn’t think it pertinent to tell her that it was a small, noisy, family-run Italian restaurant that he had stumbled on by chance years ago. And that, apart from the food, one of its main attributes was that he was never recognised in there by anyone remotely connected to his business life.

      Jake Haddon probably took her to places where he wouldn’t be recognised all the time, he thought, again with that infuriating shaft of something very like jealousy.

      The owner and his wife greeted him warmly, and that, too, took Lara by surprise. Had she thought that he would be aloof—one of those men who swanned into places as if they owned them? They were shown to a table in an alcove—private, yet managing to provide a good view of the rest of the restaurant. It was as if they had been saving the nicest table just for him, and that didn’t surprise her at all.

      As they settled into their seats Lara thought that perhaps this was the best way of all of finding out what the real man was. A one-to-one dinner where she could discover as much about him as possible. It would be like taking an inventory.

      ‘You were miles away.’

      His voice was a velvet murmur which nudged into her thoughts, and Lara blinked to find the gold eyes trained on her, piercing through her as if the light which shone from them was the precious metal itself. And for a moment she felt uncomfortable, as if what she was doing was somehow furtive. Well, when she stopped to think about it—it was. ‘W-was I?’

      He gave a wry smile. He didn’t usually send women off into a trance! ‘Drink?’

      Lara nodded. ‘Please.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘Whatever you’re having.’

      He raised his eyebrows fractionally and ordered wine. ‘Shall I choose what you’re eating, too?’ he questioned sardonically.

      Lara nodded, enjoying the confounded look on his face. ‘Please.’ She smiled. ‘You’ve obviously eaten here plenty of times before—I’m happy to take your recommendations.’

      ‘Are you always so delightfully acquiescent?’ he questioned, in a voice of silky provocation.

      Lara didn’t react to the not-so-subtle implication. ‘Only in matters concerning my stomach,’ she said. ‘I’ll eat whatever is put in front of me.’

      ‘You don’t survive on cigarettes and black coffee, then?’

      Lara shuddered. ‘You’re joking!’

      He studied her. A small moonstone necklace gleamed against her pale skin, and it took a supreme effort not to be completely distracted by the soft shadows of her cleavage. She wasn’t all skin and bones, like a lot of actresses and models.

      ‘How come you stay so slim?’ he questioned.

      ‘I only eat when I’m hungry, and I walk wherever possible.’

      ‘Even in London?’

      ‘Especially in London—it’s the best way to avoid the traffic and to see the city properly!’

      He ordered, waited until red wine had been poured for them, then sat back in his seat, his fingers caressing the deep bowl of the glass.

      ‘So.’

      Lara took a mouthful of wine, needing something to help her relax, to take her mind off the fact that his mouth had softened and she was wondering what it would be like to kiss it.

      She smiled. ‘So.’

      ‘What shall we drink to?’ He raised his glass, his eyes questioning. ‘The new face of Wildman?’

      ‘Why not?’ Her heart was beating very fast as their glasses touched.

      ‘Soon to be emblazoned on posters all over the country,’ he mused. ‘How does that feel—knowing that your face will be everywhere?’

      ‘I’m not sure,’ she said slowly. ‘I’ve never done a poster campaign before.’

      ‘But you’ve done other kinds of advertising—television, magazines.’

      ‘A bit.’

      ‘And does it feed the ego?’

      It was a mocking challenge. A faintly hostile question. ‘Not really. Actors are notoriously insecure,’ she said, taking another sip of wine. ‘Didn’t you know that?’

      He shrugged. ‘That’s the theory, but if that’s the case, then it strikes me as an odd type of profession to choose.’

      ‘Maybe the two are inseparable. Maybe it’s because they’re insecure and don’t feel comfortable in their own skins that they’re able to inhabit someone else’s so easily.’

      The curve of her breasts gleamed softly beneath the cream silk. ‘I can’t imagine that you feel uncomfortable in your own skin,’ he observed quietly. ‘When you’re so very lovely.’

      Lara quickly put her glass down before he could see that her hand was shaking. The compliment warmed and yet alarmed her. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Her body was not supposed to be tingling and glowing and basking in his approbation as a cat would contentedly lap up the warm rays of the sun. This was not a date, this was a fact-finding mission, pure and simple.

      If she wasn’t careful then they would spend the whole time talking about her, or, even worse, his wretched company, and then, before she knew it, the evening would be gone and she might never have this opportunity again.

      The waiter came over, and she waited until he had deposited two dishes of steaming prawns before them.

      She speared one uninterestedly. ‘Anyway,’ she said brightly. ‘You know something about me, but I know absolutely nothing about you.’ Other than that your contained and watchful silence makes me feel as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof.

      ‘But I thought that all actresses were self-centred and like nothing better than to talk about themselves?’

      ‘It’s very СКАЧАТЬ