smile was urbane, but his instincts were every bit as keen as hers. He knew at some level they could hurt one another badly. Hurt Marcus. A little danger always excited him, but that couldn’t happen with Marcus involved. He cared far too much about his uncle.
Sonya wasn’t about to allow his brilliant fathoms-deep dark gaze faze her. “But you know. Marcus was attracted to one of my arrangements in the window.”
“I’m told you’re a genius at work.”
“A quiet achiever!” she said, finding it difficult to unlock her glance from his. They had become almost duel-like in quality. “Lady Palmerston?”
“Another one of your admirers.”
“Thankfully.” Her expression relaxed into a smile. “I run a business. I need customers. Good customers who appreciate what I do.”
“Then you must have been thrilled Marcus and my great-aunt walked through your door,” he returned suavely.
She looked directly into his clever, probing eyes. “Perhaps I can help you at some time, David. I’ve begun arranging the flowers for luncheons, dinner parties, parties of all kinds, weddings. I’ve had to take on staff.”
As if he’d be rash enough to make a booking! “I’ll make note of that,” he said, knowing full well he would never contact her. Too dangerous. Better to lie awake thinking about it. “Tell me about yourself,” he invited.
And wouldn’t there be lots to tell, said the cynical voice in his head.
“Little to tell.” She had no difficulty with the lie. “Anyway, I’m sure you’ll run a few checks.”
“I’m your man,” he said with cool amusement.
“There is such a thing as minding your own business.” She drew back a little, picking up her wine glass.
“The thing is, Sonya, beautiful exotic women usually have a few skeletons in the cupboard.”
“A cynical view.”
“Truer than you think.”
“Then it’s a great comfort to me to know, if I do have a few skeletons lurking in my cupboard, you won’t find them.” There was a blend of mockery and disdain in her voice.
“Is that a dare?”
“What can I say?” She shrugged her white shoulders.
Beautiful shoulders. He could learn to appreciate that shrug. Even wait for it. And that little gesture with her hands? Pure Europa. “Yes, or no,” he said.
She dared turn her head knowing he was baiting her. His eyes were as dark as hers were full of light. “No dare. It’s a promise,” she replied, keeping her voice as low pitched as his.
At the same moment Marcus turned his attention back to Sonya with what looked like an expression of relief on his face. Surely Tara knew she would never land Marcus? Holt thought. Lucy and Tara had been friends. It was clear poor Tara thought that guaranteed her next in line. Though even Tara would be far more suitable than Ms Erickson of the emerald-green eyes. If he had panicked her in any way she hid it supremely well. How did she manage such aplomb at twenty-five years of age?
He knew in his bones he was right. Ms Sonya Erickson had a past.
Right now she was looking to a rosy future with Marcus. He hadn’t a single doubt if she wanted marriage she would get it. She was already wearing the jewels. He needed to ask Marcus in a diplomatic way if he had lent them to her for the night. Or had he gone totally overboard and given them to her? That idea plagued him. He imagined the sort of conversation that might have gone on.
“You’re wearing an emerald silk dress, Sonya? I have in mind a particular necklace and matching earrings. They need an airing, after being locked away in the safe.”
Did she protest? “Really, no, Marcus!”
“It would please me so much.”
To be strictly fair it was hard to resist Marcus. Maybe she was the sort of young woman who lived to please. Dear Marcus, so long faithful to the memory of his beautiful Lucy, appeared to have fallen deeply in love.
Alas!
No wonder writers used the verb fall. The feeling was exactly like a free fall through space. The profound worry was the beautiful Sonya could be the best heartbreaker of them all. She must have trodden a path littered with admirers. Lovers? Despite himself he thought it would be quite an experience to share a bed with Ms Erickson. He was only human, but he was having none of taking Ms Erickson on trust. The beautiful Ms Erickson was wearing a mask. He would check on her discreetly. Clarify the situation.
The voice in his head said wryly, It’s already too late.
CHAPTER TWO
MIDWEEK Holt had lunch with Rowena. Usual place, Simone’s. The food was so good even Gordon Ramsay would have to wax lyrical. He and Rowena had things to discuss. Namely Marcus’s future. Marcus was very dear to both of them and now they realized Marcus for the second time in his life was totally enraptured and could be at that very moment seriously considering marrying a woman young enough to be his daughter.
Okay, was that a bad thing? It happened all the time with beautiful clever girls. Most often they were blonde. Rich men married blondes for choice. He didn’t exactly know why. Beauty came in many guises. But he had to say blonde was good.
He was nearly ten minutes late, having to work hard at winding up a meeting with a lot of guys in business suits and one woman executive with really Big Hair. With the light behind her he had the unsettling sensation he was talking to a balloon. If he lived to be one hundred he would still be amazed by what women did to their hair. The incredible colours they tried out. One of the girls in the office, Ellie, had gone briefly pink and purple. Maybe it was to attract his attention? He had stumbled over her so often, he had come to the conclusion she deliberately lay in wait.
A majestic-looking Rowena waved when she saw him, her face lighting up.
“Sorry I’m late.” He threaded his way through the tables, acknowledging friends along the way. Simone’s did a roaring trade with the big end of town. He bent to kiss Rowena’s velvet cheek. He loved everything about her. Her wit and her wisdom. She always wore the same perfume like a signature note. Roses softened by iris, musk and, he thought, vanilla? It was so wonderfully subtle and evocative of Rowena, who could blame her for sticking to one sublime perfume? Most of the women in his circle ran the gamut. The beautiful Sonya had worn a serenely beautiful fragrance he was not familiar with. But it had been heaven to inhale.
“What are we having?” Once seated, he picked up the menu.
Rowena glanced across at him, delighting in his handsomeness. “I hope I did the right thing, dear. I’ve already ordered for both of us. I know how little time you have.”
“You also know my tastes. So what is it?” He put up his hand to signal the drinks waiter. He and Rowena always shared a bottle of wine. Just enough. Not too much. He had plenty of work to do. Rowena, after a long successful life as a top
