A Suspicious Proposal

He led her into the hotel cocktail lounge with his hand at her elbow, and she tried not to think about how delicious he had looked in that first moment she had seen him. He had dressed up, as had she, and the black dinner suit and snowy-white shirt and bow-tie had made her heart pound. It was still pounding. It didn’t seem as if it would ever stop pounding.

‘What would you like?’

As she perched elegantly on one of the bar stools, she allowed a full ten seconds to pass by before she glanced his way, and then her voice was serene and self-possessed when she said, ‘Oh, a gin sling I think.’

‘A good choice; I’ll join you.’

Once he had given the order to the bartender—a Tom Cruise look-alike—Xavier turned the full intensity of his ice-blue gaze on her as he said, his voice thoughtful, ‘You look different tonight, Janice. Older, more…cosmopolitan.’

‘Do I?’ She arched her eyebrows at him but there was going to be no batting of eyelashes tonight. Tonight she was going to be every inch the twenty-eight-year-old, career-minded, strong woman she really was! ‘Well, I’ve never thought first impressions were the best to go by, Xavier.’ She smiled coolly. ‘They can be so misleading, don’t you think?’

‘On occasion.’ The narrowed gaze eyed her contemplatively.

Did he know how it made him look when he half shut his eyes like that? Essie asked herself silently. His maleness was emphasised a hundred times, bringing a rawness to his attractiveness that was a killer. But of course he knew! She answered the unspoken question in the next breath, her thoughts astringent. It was all part of the grand seduction scene. She had told herself in the first moments of meeting him that Xavier Grey wouldn’t conduct a liaison in the back seat of his car, and how right she had been. First the dinner, then the hotel room—she’d read him like an open book.

‘What’s the matter?’ Xavier asked with an abruptness that took Essie by surprise.

‘The matter?’ she prevaricated uneasily.

‘What made you look like that just then?’

Oh, help; oh, help. She looked back into the strong-boned face and she saw the cleanly sculpted mouth and square jaw were set in stubborn mode. He wasn’t going to be diverted, the body language was quite clear, but suddenly everything in Essie rebelled as unwelcome memories of another strong man—who had all but broken her heart and her spirit—came rushing in.

‘Nothing.’ She raised her chin as she spoke and met the silver-blue gaze head-on. ‘I’m absolutely fine.’ Then, as the barman produced two frosted fluted glasses, she turned to the young man gratefully, her voice laughing as she said, ‘Wow. Now that’s what I call a cocktail.’

‘And it will taste as good as it looks, ma’am.’ The good-looking face smiled back at her, frankly appreciative of the beauty of the woman in front of him. He had all sorts in his bar during the average week, but this one was something special.

‘I’m sure it will.’ Essie dimpled at him and then sipped at the cocktail. It was strong, and delicious. ‘It’s lovely. Thank you,’ she said smilingly.

Xavier had watched the little exchange without saying a word but now he reached for his own glass and Essie saw his face was expressionless. ‘Excellent.’ He gave his own commendation to the young man. ‘You’ve got the mix just right; there are some people who drown the sloe gin.’

‘Not me, sir.’ The barman grinned happily before turning away as another customer claimed his attention.

‘Shall we?’ Xavier indicated a quiet table for two in a corner of the room with a wave of his hand, and Essie slid off the stool reluctantly. It had seemed safer at the bar, if only because it was delaying the inevitable moment when she had to admit her deception.

They were just about to walk across the room when a sudden squeal of delight made Xavier freeze. Essie heard him groan slightly but then, as a tall, elegant redhead and a very good-looking young man with a shock of black hair hailed them from the doorway, he raised a hand in reply. Essie recognised them from the wedding reception but she had no idea who they were—although that was soon rectified as the redhead strode determinedly across to them, dragging her partner with her.

‘Xavier, how lovely! Have you eaten yet?’ she asked brightly. ‘They’ve just fitted us in for nine.’

‘I thought you and Harper were going out with some of the English relatives?’ Xavier answered the woman with a question and he didn’t bother to hide his irritation.

‘We were.’ The redhead smiled at Essie as she spoke, her blue eyes frankly curious. ‘But Harper didn’t feel too well earlier so we decided to give it a miss. He’s feeling heaps better now, though, aren’t you, darling?’

She smiled up into Harper’s face before she continued, ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us, Xavier?’ as she held out her hand to Essie.

‘Janice, this is Candy and Harper. Harper and Candy—Janice.’ Xavier’s tone was very dry as he added, ‘Candy is my niece and Harper is her fiancé.’

‘Your niece?’ Essie tried not to sound surprised but she didn’t manage it very well, as Candy’s next words indicated.

‘I know what you’re thinking but my mother, Xavier’s sister, had me when she was very young,’ Candy said quickly.

Essie smiled and nodded but didn’t pursue the conversation. She sensed there was something here that the other girl found difficult and she didn’t want to embarrass her; besides which, she was hoping the other two wouldn’t join them, even though she had instinctively warmed to Xavier’s niece. She had to tell him as soon as possible—and an audience was the last thing she needed. He had already introduced her as Janice, as it was, and now she was feeling acutely uncomfortable and more than a little guilty.

There was a moment or two of silence and then Xavier said, his tone resigned, ‘Would you care to join us for an aperitif?’

‘If that’s all right?’ Candy’s tone was subdued now; she had obviously clicked onto the fact that her uncle was less than pleased to see them.

‘Of course it is.’ Essie’s voice was warm. There was something almost vulnerable about Xavier’s niece; Essie couldn’t quite explain it, but she felt that behind the lovely façade of clear translucent skin, vivid blue eyes and wonderful chestnut-red hair the other girl wasn’t quite so confident as she appeared, and Essie forgot all her previous thoughts about being alone with Xavier as she aimed to make the young couple feel welcome.

And so it continued through the evening. When they all walked through into the restaurant, it seemed natural for Candy and Harper to join them, especially as their tables were next to each other and only took a moment to put together.

The meal was wonderful, all five courses of it, the wine undoubtedly expensive, and Xavier was an excellent host—courteous, amusing and urbane. But behind the cultured, suave exterior Essie sensed he was watching them all in the same way a scientist examined something he found interesting. He gave nothing of himself away.

As soon as the thought hit, she knew it was the truth. Xavier was the epitome of the cool, controlled ice-man, however light and witty his conversation, and however much that sexy, sensual mouth smiled. Sexy and sensual? She caught herself up sharply, irritated she’d noticed. He wasn’t sexy or sensual or anything else—he was simply the enemy, as far as she was concerned, and she’d better remember that. Once she’d told him—if they ever got to be alone for a moment or two—it would be wise to beat a hasty retreat. This was not a man to mess with.

They lingered over their liqueur coffees—the rich, brandy-flavoured coffee topped with whipped cream was the best Essie had tasted and the pianist who had been playing a medley of songs while the diners ate was excellent—but then, after Xavier had insisted the meal was his treat to Harper, the other two rose to leave.

‘Thanks, Xavier.’ Candy leant forward and touched her uncle’s arm with a smile.

Essie found herself asking—although she hadn’t meant to, ‘You don’t call him Uncle, then?’

‘Uncle?’ Candy grinned. ‘With only ten years between us? Besides, I’ve never thought of Xavier as an uncle; he’s the big brother I never had.’ There was real affection in the lovely blue eyes and, as Xavier glanced at his niece, Essie saw a softness to his smile she hadn’t seen before. And it hurt. Ridiculously, irrationally, it hurt like mad, because she knew he would never look at her like that. In fact, once she told him the truth, she didn’t dare to think how he would look.

But she didn’t want him to look at her like that, anyway! Good grief, it was the last thing she wanted! What on earth was she thinking of? The protests came, fierce and strong, and such was her agitation that she let her napkin slip under the table so she could bend down and retrieve it and compose her face again.

She loathed his type of man! She loathed him; he was a typical male chauvinist with a grossly exaggerated idea of himself. Okay, so this evening had been fun—she had to admit she’d enjoyed herself, in spite of everything—but that was because he was in entertainment mode, that was all. The real man was still there, under the façade of smooth dinner companion. He was a control freak, like the rest of his kind.

Essie had accepted a brandy when the other two had declined—not because she wanted one, but because it would give her an opportunity to talk to Xavier with other people around, and she had the feeling she would need their unsuspecting support. And now, as Xavier settled back into his chair, his powerful chest muscles flexing under the thin white silk of his shirt—the jacket long since discarded on the back of his chair—she took a quick sip of the fine thirty-year-old spirit as she contemplated how to start.

‘Don’t you ever relax?’

‘What?’ The deep, husky voice had been very soft and now Essie stared straight at him, her eyes narrowing warily. This was the start of the seduction programme, was it? The one that had been put on hold when his niece and her fiancé had joined them so unexpectedly.

‘You’ve been on edge all evening. I could almost feel the waves coming off you,’ he drawled lazily, ‘and you were the same this afternoon, but in a different way.’

He was too perceptive by half. She watched his eyes wander over her face and she knew he was doing it deliberately, his gaze pausing on the soft swell of her lips until she could feel them tingle as though he had kissed her.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said tightly. She was going to tell him, she was, but in her own way, and certainly not defending herself at the same time.

‘You’re like several different women under the same skin,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘and you change from one to the other like a nervous little chameleon. Why are you so guarded tonight, Janice? Is it me in particular you’re chary of, or all men?’

This had gone quite far enough and, in view of his comments, there would never be a better opportunity to tell him he had made a mistake—a big mistake—this afternoon, she thought feverishly. And then he completely took the wind out of her sails and had her floundering for words when he leant forward, his hard dark face amazingly tender, and said, ‘You’re a phoney, Janice Beaver. All this wild living and seeking of attention—that’s not the real girl. Has someone hurt you? Is that it? Whatever he did, whatever happened, he’s not worth messing up your life for. Believe me, I know.’

‘Xavier, please.’ This was awful, terrible. He was making her feel so guilty. She took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring, and removed her hand from where it was resting under his before she said, ‘This isn’t like you think.’

‘Someone did hurt you, didn’t they?’ It was as though he hadn’t heard her. ‘And badly.’

She wished she’d never started this. She swallowed deeply, the tension making her voice brittle as she said, ‘That’s nothing to do with this and it was a long time ago.’