Diamonds are for Deception: The Carlotta Diamond / The Texan's Diamond Bride / From Dirt to Diamonds

‘He wandered into the shop one morning, a few weeks ago, just to browse. We got talking, and then he asked me out.’

‘A quick worker. Been to bed with him yet?’

‘Certainly not!’

‘Want to?’ Sojo asked knowingly.

‘Yes,’ Charlotte admitted.

‘So why haven’t you? Don’t tell me he hasn’t tried to persuade you.’

‘I won’t.’

Feeling her cheeks grow warm again, Charlotte gave the other girl a forbidding enough look to prevent her commenting.

‘Well, if you both fancy each other like mad, why are you holding back?’

‘It’s too soon. Even if I am attracted to him, I can’t jump into bed with a man I scarcely know.’

Sojo sighed. ‘You’re so beautifully old-fashioned. I’m not sure you live in the real world. If you’re not careful you’ll end up a desiccated virgin.’

‘But we’ve only been out four or five times.’

‘Is that all? I’m surprised he doesn’t want to see more of you.’

‘He does,’ Charlotte admitted. ‘But he isn’t free as often as he’d like to be. In his line of work it seems social contacts are very important, and a lot of his evenings are taken up by business commitments—dining out with clients and suchlike. It was touch and go whether he could get tonight off.’

‘Where are you off to? It must be somewhere special as you bought a new dress. Unless that’s just for Wudolf’s benefit?’

Ignoring that last crack, Charlotte said, ‘He’s escorting me to a supper party at St John’s Wood, given by Anthony Drayton.’

‘The literary agent?’

‘Yes. He hosts one every year. Half of London gets invited—anybody who is anybody. His parties always have a different theme. Last year it was timed to coincide with a new moon, and all the ladies were asked to wear something silver.’

‘What is it this time?’

‘Candlelight.’

‘Let’s hope the fire brigade’s been alerted,’ Sojo said wryly.

‘You’re going out, I suppose?’ Charlotte asked.

‘Nope. I’ll be all on my little lonesome.’

‘Then why not come along with us? I’m sure Anthony won’t mind.’

‘It’s not Anthony I’m worried about.’

‘Rudy won’t either.’

‘That’s a whopping great lie, and even if it wasn’t, playing gooseberry is not my favourite role.’

‘I’m surprised you’re not going out with Mark. He seemed keen enough.’

‘If anything, too keen. A regular Mr Touchy-Feely. I got so fed up with peeling his hands off, I showed him the door.’

Watching Charlotte collect a squashy evening bag and a silver fun-fur, she queried, ‘Going by taxi?’

‘No, Rudy’s offered to pick me up. He should be here any minute.’

Stationing herself in the bow-window, where she could see the street in both directions, Sojo suggested casually, ‘Why don’t you ask him up for a nightcap when he brings you home?’

‘Yes, I might. It’s about time you and Rudy met.’

‘So it’s getting serious!’

‘I’m not sure,’ Charlotte admitted.

‘In that case I’ll give him the once-over before I make myself scarce, not forgetting to mention that I’m a heavy sleeper.’

‘Don’t you dare!’ Charlotte exclaimed.

‘Only joking, honestly. Hello! This looks like him now… Or at least a posh-looking car has just drawn up outside. A man with dark curly hair is getting out! He’s gazing up at the window!’ She heaved a rapturous sigh. ‘Oh, Romeo, Romeo…’

Gathering up her coat and bag, Charlotte fled.

The September evening was cool and grey and slightly foggy. Street lamps cast an amber glow onto the damp pavements, and, surrounded by a halo of mist, shone like luminous ghosts.

Rudy was waiting for her on the pavement. Taking her hand, he drew her close and kissed her with a barely restrained passion.

After a moment, well aware that Sojo was almost certainly watching, Charlotte drew away.

Damn it, Rudy thought as he jumped into the car and started the engine. He was practically desperate. He needed to make some headway before Simon returned, and time was getting short.

But with a certain cool reserve, Charlotte was unlike any other girl he’d ever met, and so far, afraid of scaring her off, he’d forced himself to be relatively patient.

Now, however, restless and frustrated, he found the strain was beginning to tell, and he frowned as he joined the sluggish stream of evening traffic, and headed north for St John’s Wood.

His experience had told him that she was on the verge of falling in love with him, and it was time to make his move. With the Mayfair flat still at his disposal he had entertained high hopes that tonight they might become lovers.

It would make a difficult situation a great deal easier and immeasurably increase his chances of keeping her—so long as he could come up with the right kind of story to gain her sympathy.

She was, he felt certain, the kind of woman who would stick by him once she had committed herself.

And he badly wanted her to.

This wasn’t just the start of another affair, nor was it because she would shortly be rich, though that was a definite bonus. For the first time in his life he was mad about a woman, unable to concentrate on anything, hardly able to eat or sleep for thinking about her, and her cool reception of his kiss had shaken him badly.