The Housekeeper's Awakening

‘Which were never bought with the intention of being worn in some ultra-smart restaurant on the Côte d’Azur.’

He glanced up. ‘But you don’t dress to be seen, do you, Carly? Or to be looked at. You dress to be invisible and to blend into the background. I thought that was the whole point.’

She could hear the white umbrella above them flapping in the light breeze which was coming off the sea. ‘And I told you why.’

‘But the reason no longer applies, surely? If I’ve set you free from your hang-ups about sex, then doesn’t it follow that you might be a little more experimental about what you wear?’

‘You think I look awful,’ she said, in a wooden voice.

‘I think those pale shades you like don’t do you any favours. Your colouring is so fair that you need something more dramatic to set that off. If you don’t like your appearance, then change it, but don’t keep doing nothing and then complaining about it, because it’s boring.’ He leaned back in his chair and subjected her to a cool look. ‘And there’s no need to look at me quite so reproachfully. You did ask.’

‘And you certainly didn’t p-pull any punches in telling me,’ she said.

‘What would be the point of that? We’re back to the whole question of honesty again.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe it’s time you stopped hiding some of your more spectacular assets and tried something new. So grab your bag.’ He lifted his hand and signalled to the waiter for the check. ‘I’m taking you shopping.’

‘I don’t like shopping.’

‘You will. Like eating avocado—it’s a taste which can easily be acquired.’ His black eyes gleamed. ‘So come quietly, querida, because I am still not fit enough to put you over my shoulder and carry you.’

Carly bit back a smile. When he looked at her that way, she felt powerless to do anything but agree. She didn’t feel like herself any more; she had become one of those women starring in a rom-com, their lives transformed by a gorgeous man with a big wallet and a lot of attitude.

Clamping her hands down over her hair, they sped along the Croisette in Cannes in his open-top car before coming to a halt outside a screamingly smart boutique, where a burly man in uniform took Luis’s car keys and went off to park for him.

But Carly’s mood evaporated when she peered through the plate-glass windows at the glamorous sales assistants who were grouped around inside.

‘I can’t,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t go in there.’

‘I thought we’d decided to dispense with the self-deprecation?’ he drawled. ‘You can do anything you want. Starting right now.’ He laced his fingers in hers. ‘Come.’

Carly felt faint. He was holding her hand in public! He was walking inside as if he owned the place and telling one of the sales assistant that he wanted to see her in ‘hot’ colours.

‘Scarlet,’ he said. ‘And definitely flame. And I think we might try yellow, too.’

Slipping into seamless French, he spoke animatedly to the woman, using his hands to draw curving shapes of a voluptuous body in the air. They were taken to a private area at the back of the store, where he showed no embarrassment about running his fingertips along a line of frothy lace bras, or deliberating between the virtues of the thong versus the camiknicker.

Carly’s throat had grown dry with nerves. She felt big and ungainly, like a giant in a land of tiny people. She wanted to tell him she’d changed her mind, until she remembered that it hadn’t actually been her who had made it up in the first place. It had been Luis who had taken command of the afternoon, overriding all her objections and deciding what needed to be done. And judging by his relaxed attitude as he sat on one of the velvet sofas, sipping a tiny cup of espresso, this wasn’t the first time he’d adopted this particular role. Maybe it was just a rite of passage for all the women who shared his bed. Though surely the usual rangy supermodel would do more justice to one of the delicate pieces of underwear which had been brought to the cubicle for her to try?

But to Carly’s surprise, the wispy bra was deceptively supportive and the camiknickers transformed her rounded hips into an area of her body which suddenly looked glossy, and...inviting.

When she pulled on a yellow and white polka-dot dress, with its full skirt and shiny patent belt, she barely recognised the reflection which gazed back from the mirror, but even the sales assistant gave her a wide beam of approval.

‘Mais, elle est jolie,’ she said, on a note of surprise.

Luis gave a slow smile as Carly stood in front of him. ‘Very pretty,’ he agreed, picking up a straw sun hat with a yellow ribbon on—his black eyes piercing into her as he placed it carefully on her head. ‘Now are you going to start believing in yourself?’

She could feel the silk next to her skin and the crispness of the petticoat beneath the fifties-style dress and, almost shyly, she nodded.

He smiled, his gaze alighting on a stick-like mannequin clutching a plastic bucket and spade at the far end of the store. ‘I think we’ll take a look at some bikinis while we’re here.’

Soon they were laden down with glossy carrier bags, tied with bright pink ribbons, and Carly was persuaded to keep on the yellow dress and the matching espadrilles.

‘You’ve bought me far too much,’ she whispered, her heart pounding as Luis cupped her face in his hands, causing the sun hat to wobble precariously.

‘That’s for me to do and for you to accept. And now I’m going to take you home and show you something which is vital to the repertoire of any lover,’ he said, brushing his lips over hers in a grazing kiss.

Carly was back on that same dangerous high as they sped along the mountain road. She kept trying to tell herself that none of this had any real substance, no matter how wonderful it felt. But her heart was stubbornly refusing to listen to what her head was telling her. She had told him she wasn’t looking for the things which most women wanted—that her desire for love and marriage had been eclipsed by her ambition to be a doctor. But suddenly she was discovering that falling in love with Luis would be as easy as falling off a chair.

He took her straight to his bedroom when they got back, but she barely had time to register that this was the first time she’d ever been in his room because he was closing the door and walking towards her, with a look of fierce intent on his face.