To Marry Mccloud

But if Chloe thought by looking at the menus and choosing their food he was going to let go of the only thing he had actually found out about her so far, then she was mistaken!

Chloe studied him surreptitiously from behind the shield of her menu. He had hidden it well, but she knew he had been absolutely furious when she’d actually arrived here this evening. Not surprising, really; she had been almost twenty minutes late. Deliberately so.

One thing she had learnt about Fergus McCloud in the last few weeks: a simpering sycophant was not going to hold his interest for more than two minutes!

He was a man who had avoided a serious relationship, let alone matrimony, for at least the last fifteen years. Any woman who wanted to hold this man’s interest for more than a couple of dates would have to be unusual, to say the least.

Although Chloe wasn’t sure, as she saw that tightness about his mouth, the angry glitter in those warm brown eyes, that she hadn’t gone too far. The last thing she wanted to happen was for Fergus not to even like her!

Because, strangely enough, she could all too easily like him…

He was interesting. Intelligent. Fun. His good looks unmistakable. And there had been something boyishly attractive, endearingly so, about his protectiveness towards her when his cousin Brice had arrived at the house last Sunday morning and found them there together…

Under any other circumstances, she was sure she would like Fergus McCloud very much indeed.

Again it was ‘under other circumstances’…

She put her menu down on the table, smiling across at Fergus as he looked across at her enquiringly. She was right; he had started to feel wary of her. And that wasn’t the idea at all!

‘Actually, Fergus, I have my own label, sell my clothes to several well-known couturier shops,’ she told him brightly.

‘Very exclusive,’ he guessed.

‘Very,’ she confirmed.

‘And very expensive?’ he drawled.

She laughed again softly. ‘Of course.’

He relaxed slightly, obviously having just been given the answer to several more questions that he had concerning her; how she afforded her sports car and how she was so obviously at ease in these surroundings, to name but two. However, Chloe easily sensed that there were a lot more questions Fergus wanted answers to than those…

‘What’s the label called?’ he prompted casually, putting his own menu down to give her his full attention.

Her mouth quirked. ‘Would you believe, “Foxy”?’ Not much help there!

Fergus gave a rueful smile. ‘I’d believe,’ he acknowledged. ‘How come you and I have never met before, Chloe Fox? That I have never even heard your name mentioned before?’

Because until a year ago she hadn’t lived in London all year round, had been at boarding-school in the south of England for years, before going on to university, and then she had spent a year in Paris with one of the top designers there. And in the last year she had been too busy getting her business off the ground to feature too much on the social scene.

There was also the fact that she hadn’t been a hundred-per-cent honest concerning her name.

She shrugged. ‘Just bad luck, I suppose,’ she answered.

Fergus grinned. ‘Yours or mine?’

‘Both, of course,’ Chloe returned. ‘It would be very rude of me to say anything else.’

‘You don’t like to be rude. And you always try to do what you say you will,’ Fergus murmured thoughtfully.

This man was making an inventory on what he slowly learnt about her! Not a good development.

‘You might also like to know that I like to be fed at least twice a day,’ she went on. ‘And as I only had time for a quick breakfast this morning, and no lunch…’ she added pointedly.

‘You would like to eat now.’ Fergus nodded, signalling to the waiter that they were ready to order.

Chloe studied him while the waiter noted their choices. Fergus’s good looks weren’t in doubt. Nor were his wealth or charm. But she would do well to remember not to underestimate his intelligence; Fergus was more than capable of adding two and two together and coming up with the correct answer of four. Maybe not tonight. But it wouldn’t take too much probing on his part to discover exactly who the designer ‘Foxy’ was.

Telling him about that had been a calculated risk, but one she had deemed necessary in the face of his wariness. She wanted to keep his interest, but she wasn’t going to get anywhere with him at all if she made herself too mysterious. And she still had a long way to go with this man if she were to achieve her objective.

‘So tell me,’ she said conversationally as the two of them enjoyed their starters, melon and strawberries in Chloe’s case, and moules marinière in Fergus’s, ‘why didn’t you want us to eat at your uncle’s restaurant this evening?’

Fergus seemed to almost choke over the mussel he had just spooned into his mouth, looking across at her frowningly.

Chloe eyed him speculatively. ‘Sorry—was I mistaken?’ But she knew she wasn’t, knew Fergus had been horrified at her suggestion that the two of them meet at Chef Simon this evening.

‘Not at all,’ he replied slowly. ‘And the answer is simple, Chloe; I wanted to get to know you without any family distractions.’

There was a word for smooth flattery like this—but Chloe was too ladylike to even think it!

‘How nice,’ she returned as insincerely.

‘I thought so,’ Fergus replied. ‘I’m sure you’ll agree, there’s still a lot we don’t know about each other?’

What he really meant was there was a lot he still didn’t know about her! Although he was obviously hoping to change all that tonight. If Chloe had anything to do with it, he was going to be out of luck!

She smiled across at him. ‘What’s the saying? “Finding out is half the fun”?’

‘Probably,’ he acknowledged dryly, not looking in the least convinced of the sentiment. ‘I—’

‘Chloe! It is Chloe, isn’t it…?’ the voice added less certainly.

Chloe’s air of flirtation immediately deserted her as she looked up and easily recognised the man who had stopped beside their table.

Peter Ambrose!

It wasn’t surprising that, having initially believed he recognised her, on closer inspection he was less sure; she had been fifteen years old the last time he’d seen her!

She swallowed hard, deliberately not looking at Fergus now; a previous brief glance his way had told her that he was stunned at the identity of the other man.

Which wasn’t surprising! Until three years ago Peter Ambrose had been the British Prime Minister. Even now, he was still the Leader of the Opposition. And he obviously knew Chloe well enough to call her by her first name!