Pride After Her Fall

Lorelei picked up her champagne and sipped it. Had they? She was grateful not to have to apologise or explain, because, really, how did she explain? She didn’t want to look too closely at how out of control things had become.

He had that lazy, contented male look about him—as if he had her exactly where he wanted her and was sizing up his options with her. It was time to do a little sizing up of her own.

‘I did some research on you,’ she said, knowing it was only half a white lie—because couldn’t Simone be counted as research?

He didn’t look disturbed.

‘You’ve got quite a reputation.’

Those blue eyes glimmered.

‘As a competitor,’ she added with a little smile.

He drummed the fingers of his left hand on the table. ‘I don’t like to lose.’

‘It must make you hard to live with.’

‘I wouldn’t know.’ He almost smiled. ‘Not having to live with me.’

‘I guess it’s a question to ask your girlfriend—or wife.’

She didn’t know why she’d phrased it that way. It was hardly subtle.

‘There isn’t a woman in my life.’

Lorelei knew she’d be a fool to believe that. Look at him—big, rugged, rich, sex appeal to burn.

‘Oh, really? I heard you were quite busy in that department.’

‘Did this come up in all that research?’

Lorelei ran her thumb over the stem of her glass. She realised he was watching her hand and that her gesture might be interpreted as quite provocative. She picked up her glass, intending to drink, then put it down again.

She’d had quite enough to drink last night.

‘And you?’ he prompted. ‘Easy to live with?’

‘Me?’ She was no longer entirely sure what they were talking about. ‘I’m a pussycat.’

‘According to your husband?’

‘No husband.’ She met his eyes and saw satisfaction with her answer.

This time she did take a sip of her drink, and another.

She didn’t get involved with men like this. Yet here she was, walking straight on in.

Whatever he said, he was probably seeing someone. Maybe not today, but certainly yesterday, and probably tomorrow. Girls were probably lining up around the block.

Her father in his heyday had always had two or three women on the go. One to pay the bills, another in reserve and a third he actually enjoyed sleeping with. Some young starlet or tourist passing through.

Lorelei frowned. She didn’t like to think about that side of Raymond.

She preferred the side he’d thought she saw. He’d made an effort for her to see. The charming bon vivant, lavish with money and affection, especially with his darling daughter.

But she’d always been aware he romanced older women up and down the coast to keep the wolf from the door.

Her grandmaman had been the one with the real money, doled out sparingly.

Raymond had never complained, and his phone calls from the low-security prison where he was currently serving out the last months of a two-year gaol term were always full of jokes and cheer. She loved him for it, but she wished sometimes she could speak seriously to him.

She never had been able to breach that gleaming surface. Raymond didn’t want to hear about the difficulties of life. And under the current circumstances she felt guilty even raising the subject of the villa.

Alors, she was back to thinking about the villa.

‘Lorelei.’ A deep voice said her name almost gently.

‘Oui?’ She blinked, took a breath.

Nash was watching her with an intensity that hadn’t been there before, as if he knew something had changed.

‘Sorry.’ She made a forgetful gesture with one hand. ‘You were saying?’

‘Nothing that won’t keep.’

He continued to watch her, a quiet smile conveying so much more than words. In that moment Lorelei knew she was in trouble.

Oh, she knew how to deflect a man, how to make it clear that despite sitting across from him, sharing a meal with him, she was not on the menu.

But right now she felt she was every dish he might like...

Finally Nash spoke.

‘We’ve got a lot in common.’ He settled back, angled in his chair, all shoulders and lean, muscular grace.

He seemed to be saying, Take a good long look. It could all be yours.