Kezia’s unfashionable curves.
Kezia gave a bright smile, determined to hide her humiliation and marched towards the stairs leading to the basement kitchen and staff quarters. ‘I’ll find something,’ she promised. ‘Trust me, Nik, everything’s going to be fine.’
Twenty minutes later the bundle of mud and fur that Kezia had rescued from the ditch emerged from the kitchen sink, transformed into a small, black dog of dubious parentage.
‘It looks like a terrier cross,’ Mrs Jessop remarked. ‘But crossed with what I couldn’t say.’
‘He doesn’t seem to be hurt, just hungry,’ Kezia said, and she sneaked a piece of chicken and fed it to the dog. ‘He’s very friendly. I’ll put a notice up in the village tomorrow. Hopefully someone will come and claim him.’
‘I wouldn’t bank on it,’ the housekeeper told her. ‘I reckon he’s been abandoned. From the look of him, he’s not eaten for days—which doesn’t mean you can feed him best chicken breast. That’s for dinner, Kezia. I don’t think Mr Niarchou would be too happy to hear you’ve fed the main course to a flea ridden stray.’
‘He hasn’t got fleas. And now I’ve bathed him I think he looks rather cute.’
Kezia stroked the dog, and her heart melted when it licked her hand. As a child she had longed for something of her own to love, but the boarding school she had attended from the age of eight hadn’t allowed pets. The school holidays had been spent with her parents in Malaysia, where her father had worked. She had pleaded with her mother to be allowed to keep a pet, but her parents enjoyed a busy social life and had had little enough time for their daughter, let alone an animal.
‘I can’t just turn him out in the rain,’ she murmured anxiously. ‘Would you mind keeping an eye on him, Mrs Jessop?’
‘While I prepare a four-course dinner for fourteen, you mean?’ the housekeeper teased good-naturedly.
‘I’m sorry about the caterers.’ Kezia groaned. ‘I can’t believe they let me down at the last minute. This presentation is important to Nik, and you know how demanding he is. Everything’s got to be perfect. If you can manage the cooking, I’ll act as hostess for the evening while Becky and the girls serve dinner.’
‘You’ll be joining them at the table, though, won’t you?’ the housekeeper queried.
‘No. I’ll need to organise wine and drinks, and make sure the evening runs as smoothly as possible. I won’t have time to sit down and eat.’
‘Nik won’t like that,’ Mrs Jessop warned, and Kezia’s heart sank as she envisaged Nik’s reaction when she failed to join him for dinner.
‘He doesn’t have a lot of choice,’ she muttered grimly. ‘The catering company would have sent a master of ceremonies as well as a team of waiters and without them the evening is in danger of being disastrous. We’ll just have to manage. We can’t do more than our best. But I don’t know what I’m going to do about my skirt.’
‘Becky has some spare clothes with her,’ Mrs Jessop said. ‘I’ll ask her if she’s got anything you can borrow, you’re about the same size. But you’d better get a move on if you’re going to join them upstairs for cocktails.’
In the shower, Kezia scrubbed her skin until it tingled and she was sure she no longer smelled of ditchwater. She couldn’t forget the expression of distaste on Nik’s face, and she was determined that when they next met she would be clean and fragrant.
She discovered Becky waiting for her in Mrs Jessop’s bedroom.
‘My aunt explained about you falling in the ditch. Luckily I’ve got a spare skirt with me, and shoes. You’re welcome to borrow them if they fit,’ the young girl offered.
‘You’re a lifesaver,’ Kezia replied gratefully. ‘Thanks, Becky. I’ll be ready in five minutes.’
The shoes were black stilettos with three-inch heels. Not the style of footwear she would have chosen, Kezia thought grimly, especially when she was going to be on her feet for most of the evening. Mercifully the skirt was a reasonable length—not one of Becky’s mini-skirt numbers—but it fitted Kezia like a second skin, the shiny black satin clinging lovingly to her hips and bottom. Teamed with sheer black tights and the high-heels, she looked very different from her usual image of discreet elegance, and she groaned as she imagined Nik’s reaction.
A glance at the clock warned her she was running out of time. Taking a deep breath, she headed for the kitchen to see Mrs Jessop, but stopped abruptly at the unexpected sight of Nik chatting to this housekeeper.
‘I thought they’d fit,’ Mrs Jessop murmured when she entered the steam-filled kitchen. ‘Doesn’t Kezia look nice, Mr Niarchou?’
‘Very…eye-catching.’ Nik was leaning against the Aga, his arms folded across his chest.
His eyes narrowed as he focused on her, and Kezia blushed and nervously smoothed an imaginary crease from the skirt. She felt strangely vulnerable without the protection of her formal work suit, especially when Nik’s gaze trawled down to her legs and the killer heels.
‘I know what you must be thinking,’ she faltered, and his brows shot up.
‘I sincerely hope you don’t,’ he drawled. ‘I could be arrested.’
‘My skirt and shoes are ruined. Becky kindly lent me these. I appreciate they’re not ideal…’
‘It depends what you’re planning to do in them. Lap dancing, perhaps?’ he queried sarcastically. ‘That should certainly liven up the evening.’
‘Look, if you think for one minute that I’m enjoying wearing these clothes, think again,’ she snapped furiously.
The glint of amusement and another, indefinable emotion in Nik’s eyes was the final straw, and Kezia glared at him. The frisson of sexual awareness between them existed in her mind only, she was sure. He had made it clear that she was just a member of his staff. She must have imagined the flare of heat in his eyes before his lashes fell, concealing his thoughts.
It didn’t help that he looked so gorgeous, she thought dismally. He had changed into a superbly tailored black dinner suit and a white shirt that emphasised the golden hue of his skin. A lock of black hair fell forward onto his brow, and flecks of amber warmed his dark eyes. She was acutely conscious of him as he strolled towards her. For a man of well over six feet tall, he moved with the lithe grace of a panther—lean, dark and inherently powerful.
She would be able to detect his presence anywhere. He possessed a charisma that alerted her senses and made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The house had seemed dead without him these past weeks, but now the atmosphere crackled with a surfeit of static electricity that exacerbated her tension.
‘How’s the head?’ he queried, towering over her so that she took a step backwards and banged into the table.
‘It’s fine; I told you there was nothing to worry about. Contrary to belief, my brain is in perfect working order,’ she added coolly and was awarded a look that did strange things to her insides.
Nik laughed, throwing back his head so that her eyes were drawn to the tanned column of his throat. ‘I’m glad
