‘Thank you, darling.’
When Lizzie had gone, Leo came and took a seat. ‘Thank you,’ he said. Despite insisting to everyone he was fine and that his reputation could handle it, the week had been hell. An unnamed source had gone to great lengths to tell the press that he’d long thought the surgeons at the Hunter Clinic were a touch over-zealous and Leo’s gut had churned at the thought of the ball and facing so many peers with his integrity up to such public scrutiny. Still, now that Francesca had spoken to the press, it would be all false smiles and hand-pumping.
‘You’re sure you’re okay with people knowing?’ Leo checked.
‘I like attention.’ Francesca smiled then turned serious. ‘Thank you, Leo—you saved my life but, even so, I am cross with you.’
‘Why?’
‘Sending that beautiful woman into that snake pit when she hasn’t a clue. Lizzie is talking about doing her own make-up and hair and she still hasn’t worked out what she will be wearing.’
‘Lizzie’s not some hick.’ Leo was surprised by the defensiveness in his voice. ‘Stop trying to control the world from your hospital bed.’
‘You have no idea about women.’
‘Hey,’ Leo snapped. ‘I work with women, I know exactly—’
‘I’ll tell you exactly,’ Francesca interrupted. ‘Sort this, Leo.’
‘How?’ Leo asked, just a little bit worried now and not for himself, more for the stress he would have caused Lizzie. ‘I can’t tell her I’m worried that she’s not going to look the part …’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I can’t do this without offending her.’
‘Of course you can,’ Francesca said. ‘And you will do it now.’
Lizzie answered her phone just as she was buying body lotion for Francesca—the price of which would feed a family of four for a week and it certainly wasn’t available at the chemist!
‘Where are you?’ Leo asked, and Lizzie frowned at his response when she told him the name of the iconic store. ‘That’s convenient.’
‘Why?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Do you need something?’
‘You’ve got an appointment on the fourth floor.’
‘With who?’
‘Her name’s Melinda, she’ll help you pick a dress and make appointments for make-up and things.’
‘Excuse me?’
He tried a fib. ‘Francesca said that you are worried about going to the ball.’
‘I never said that I was worried,’ Lizzie said tartly. ‘I think it’s Francesca who’s worried about me.’ Her face was on fire in embarrassment. ‘Don’t worry, Leo, I shan’t let the side down.’
‘So you don’t want a new dress and shoes and your hair and make-up done on the day, all paid for by the boss?’ Leo said. ‘What woman wouldn’t want that?’
‘Well, if you put it like that …’ Her angry blush was fading, a smile stretching her lips at the deep purr of his voice.
‘Goldilocks, you shall go to the ball.’
‘It’s Cinderella.’ Lizzie laughed.
‘Yes, well, I don’t think reading fairy-tales was my mother’s forte. Enjoy yourself, Cinderella,’ Leo said. ‘That’s an order! ‘
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TO THE LETTER!
Lizzie stood back from the mirror. She had followed Leo’s order to the letter to enjoy herself and had taken Melinda’s advice, because never in month of Sundays would she have even tried on this dress and coat, and that was aside from the price tag!
It was either beige or pink, Lizzie couldn’t decide which. The fabric was the softest velvet and it clung everywhere and was so low at the back she had been worried it bordered on indecent.
‘It’s stunning,’ Melinda had assured her.
It was. And seeing it with her new hair and make-up, Lizzie couldn’t believe that the woman in the mirror was really her.
Her body had been waxed and massaged and that had been just the start. Her brown hair had been curled and pinned up and her make-up was amazing—Lizzie’s eyes had been dressed in smoky grey eye shadow and her lips … well, she couldn’t decide if they were beige or pink either.
She was shaking, she was nervous and excited too, but that had more to do with the fact that in ten minutes she’d be facing Leo. And then there was the question of dancing with him …
Stop.
She didn’t need an evening bag, she needed a table-tennis bat to flick away the thoughts about dancing with him. Even spraying on her perfume, she imagined his face in her neck, inhaling it …
No.
Again she said it to herself.
This week had been awkward enough and it had just been a kiss. Imagine if they …
The buzz of her intercom had her heart beating faster and Lizzie didn’t know whether she should say she was on her way down or invite him up.
‘I hope I’m getting asked in?’ Leo said, making the decision for her.
‘Of course,’ Lizzie said. ‘After all, you’re my landlord.’
She opened the door and Leo rather wished she’d settled for her usual black dress—it would have certainly been safer.
‘Oh, my!’ he said, and Lizzie squirmed at the approval in his eyes.
‘Oh, my, to you too!’ He was wearing a tux and he was so clean-shaven she wanted to put her hand to his jaw, or run her fingers through his silken black hair, or just smother his collar in her lipstick.
‘Come through …’ Lizzie settled for that instead.
He passed the coat and boots that she wore for walking to work and followed her, getting the sight of her bare back, and she could feel the tingle the length of her spine as it blistered under his gaze.
‘Do you want a drink?’ Lizzie had splurged and bought some decent whisky, just in case he wanted one, but Leo declined.
‘Not for me.’ He stood by the fireplace and saw the pictures of her family and friends, and small talk was supremely difficult when all he wanted was to pull her into his arms.
‘I’m ready whenever …’
‘No rush,’ Leo said. ‘We’ll be in plenty of time.’ He tried again. ‘Your dress is lovely.’
‘Thank you,’ Lizzie said. ‘And thank you for …’ She stopped when Leo gave a brief shake of his head. ‘I’m not sure if it’s beige or pink.’
He didn’t answer.
‘Look at my shoes.’ She lifted her dress a fraction and Leo looked at her ankles and the smooth skin of her calves rather than the shoes, and he couldn’t manage small talk. If he did it would be something like, ‘Fancy a quickie before we go?’ She was wiggling her feet and he wanted the shoes off, he wanted that foot in his mouth and, before he put his own in his, he glanced at his watch. ‘Actually, I think we should get going.’
He helped Lizzie on with her coat as much as he could without touching her, smelling her, turning her round or just taking her against the wall, and then there was the agony of the lift and he couldn’t not touch her.
‘Rapunzel,’ Leo said, gently lifting a curl.
‘She had long blonde hair,’ Lizzie corrected him. His fingers weren’t even touching her skin but she could feel their energy and warmth and she tried to joke her way out of it. ‘You need to go on a fairy-tale workshop.’
She did feel like something out of a fairy-tale, though, as the driver came round and she climbed into the back and then sat with Leo as the car swished through the London streets. Never had she looked more beautiful and neither had Lizzie.
‘The Christmas lights are gone,’ Lizzie said. ‘If I’m still living here next year, I’ll be able to—’
‘Why wouldn’t you still be living here?’ Leo asked, and she just kept on looking out of the window because the answer was an impossible one to give.
‘Lizzie?’
She was aware of the glitter of tears in her eyes, a combination of tension and passion and the absolute unfairness of it all. God, she wished she’d met him in a bar or something—why did he have to be her boss? But, then, she didn’t frequent the type of bars that Leo Hunter did, and if she had, Lizzie frantically thought, she’d still have run a mile if someone as drop-dead gorgeous as Leo had approached her.
‘Are you okay?’
‘A bit nervous,’ Lizzie said, which was a lie. His presence meant she’d forgotten her nerves about the ball.
‘You’ll be fine.’
She was more than fine, Leo soon realised. Heads turned for all the right reasons. Lizzie was as in demand as he was because, as soon as he introduced her as a work colleague, you could see male smiles widen.
‘Bit of a scare for you this week.’ A woman who’d introduced herself as Matilda batted her eyelashes at Leo.
‘A scare?’ Leo frowned, pretending he had no idea what Matilda was referring to.
‘Of course it all turned out well.’
But Leo remained noncommittal and, as the conversation progressed, Lizzie realised Matilda was, in fact, a journalist and of course Leo would never talk about his patients. He did, though, Lizzie noticed, give a subtle nod for Lexi to come over. She saw too his tight smile as a friend patted him on the back and said he’d never doubted him for a moment.
‘His name should be Janus,’ Leo said when they were briefly alone. ‘He was one of the experts that chose not to be named but were only too happy to talk to the press.’ Though he did smile a little while later when Janus asked Lizzie to dance and she politely but rather publicly declined him.