Self-consciously she’d lowered her voice, but the pink flush on her cheeks rendered her so irresistibly pretty that Hal didn’t think twice about reaching out his hand to gently stroke his fingertips across her cheek.
Kit bit down on her lip as though pained. ‘Don’t. The waiter’s coming towards us and we haven’t even discussed what we’re going to eat yet.’
‘I heartily recommend the herb-crusted lamb. Trust me—what they do with it is close to orgasmic.’ Grinning, Hal kissed his fingers with a deliberately theatrical flourish.
Kit had just about recovered her composure in time, he saw, as the waiter appeared to ask smilingly if they’d made their selection. Giving Hal the barest warning glance, she unhesitatingly went for the lamb. Despite the warning, he couldn’t resist giving her a teasing wink of acknowledgment that she’d taken him at his word and succumbed to his enthusiastic recommendation without a murmur. He took it as a good sign that she trusted him.
‘Well, well, well! I see the walking wounded has returned to the land of the living, looking as disgustingly handsome and fit as ever...despite the broken leg!’
Hal was seriously starting to relax and enjoy Kit’s company, as well as his indisputably delicious meal, when a familiar male voice sent a disagreeable chill down his back. Looking up, he came face to face with the insincere smile of his ex-business partner Simon Rigden.
Simon was wearing his trademark designer suit, and his mid-brown hair was slicked back and as perfectly styled as always. But his over-familiar air and polished appearance weren’t about to make Hal feel remotely friendly or predisposed to let bygones be bygones. The man was a wily snake and he’d be a fool to forget that for a second time. The pity was that he hadn’t recognised it as being the case when they’d first met and he had stupidly made him his partner...
Ignoring the slightly pudgy hand held out before him in greeting, he took his time in touching his linen napkin to his lips, then emitted a weary sigh. ‘If your aim was to ruin my day by appearing like this then you’re wasting your time, Simon. That skiing accident on the Aspen slopes confirmed the realisation I already had about you...of what a conniving, merciless little weasel you are.’
Glancing across the restaurant, Hal saw a couple of similarly dressed businessmen he didn’t know from Adam raise their glasses to him in a presumptuous gesture of acknowledgement. Clearly his one-time friend and business partner had company—and perhaps not so savoury company.
‘Why don’t you just slink back to what I’m sure are your equally disagreeable companions and endeavour to ruin their day instead? I have every confidence you’ll more than succeed.’
Beneath the tan that he liked to keep topped up with frequent trips to the Caribbean and other fashionable hot spots round the world, Simon visibly flushed. But then exerting a little sweat and doing an honest day’s work had never been one of his biggest priorities, Hal recalled. It was one of the reasons he had paid him off—in hindsight far too generously—and brought their partnership to an end. In another era Simon Rigden would have been known as being a reprehensible louche, he was certain.
‘You’re obviously feeling bitter because I won our little bet that I was a better skier than you and that I could beat you on what’s known to be one of the most challenging slopes in the world,’ Simon accused him mockingly. ‘You feel humiliated that you crashed into that snowbank in front of several of your cronies. Everyone knows how much you hate to lose, but you weren’t exactly “Lucky Henry” that day—were you, Hal?’
‘You’d better leave before I signal the maître d’ and have you thrown out for being a nuisance.’
‘And risk having your reckless reputation highlighted once again in the tabloids? Although I’ll concede this restaurant does make an admirable effort to keep out the riff-raff, one or two hacks always manage to sneak under the radar. See any faces you don’t recognise?’
Hal bristled. ‘Why don’t you just get out of my face and leave me and my companion to enjoy our lunch in peace?’
The other man’s gaze swung interestedly across the table to Kit.
‘And who might you be, sweetheart? I must say I’m surprised. I thought our friend’s preference was for voluptuous blondes—not dainty little redheads who look like they come straight out of the Renaissance. But I suppose you must possess one or two sexy little tricks to keep him keen. You’ll certainly need to invent a few more of those if you’re going to keep him happy whilst he’s immobile. I hear it was a particularly bad break, and my guess is his recuperation is going to be a long one. But if his interest starts to wane at any time, sweetheart, you should give me a call.’