her lovely face.
Of course, in those heady days of thinking she was his, he had let her into his world, haltingly confided in her in a way he had never done with any woman either before or since. He had told her about his background, about his parents’ determination to make sure he left that life behind. He had painted an unadorned picture of life as he had known it, had been amused at the vast differences between them, had seen those differences as a good thing, rather than an unsurmountable barrier, as she had. If she’d even thought about it at all.
‘I know you’ve become richer than your wildest dreams.’ She smiled ruefully at him. ‘And you always had very, very wild dreams...’
The conversation seemed to have broken its leash and was racing away in a direction Javier didn’t like. He frowned heavily at her.
‘And now here we are.’
‘You once told me that all your parents wanted was for you to be happy, to make something of your life, to settle down and have a big family.’
Javier decided that he needed another drink after all. He stood up abruptly, which seemed to do the trick, because she started, blinked and looked up at him as if suddenly remembering that she wasn’t here for a trip down memory lane. Indeed, that a trip down memory lane was the very last thing she had wanted.
He’d forgotten that habit of hers.
He was barely aware of placing his order for another bottle of wine at the bar and ordering some bar snacks because they were now both drinking on fairly empty stomachs. He hadn’t a clue what bar snacks he ordered, leaving it to the guy serving him to provide whatever was on the menu.
She was filling up his head. He could feel her eyes on him even as he stood here at the bar with his back to her.
Whatever memories he’d had of her, whatever memories he’d kidded himself he’d got rid of and had buried, he was now finding in a very shallow grave.
She’d always had that habit of branching out on a tangent. It was as if a stray word could spark some improbable connection in her head and carry her away down unforeseen paths.
There were no unforeseen paths in this scenario, he thought grimly as he made his way back to the table, where she was sitting with the guarded expression back on her face.
The only unforeseen thing—and it was something he could deal with—was how much he still wanted her after all this time.
‘I should be getting back,’ she said as he poured her a glass of wine and nodded to her to drink.
‘I’ve ordered food.’
‘My ticket...’
‘Forget about your ticket.’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’m not made of money. In fact, I’m broke. There. Are you satisfied that I’ve said that? I can’t afford to kiss sweet goodbye to the cost of the ticket to get me down here to London. You’ve probably forgotten how much train tickets cost, but if you’d like a reminder, I can show you mine. They cost a lot. And if you want to do a bit more gloating, then go right ahead.’ She fluttered her hand wearily. ‘I can’t stop you.’
‘You’ll need to pare down the staff.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘The company is top-heavy. Too many chiefs and very few Indians.’
Sophie nodded. It was what she had privately thought but the thought of sitting down old friends of her parents and handing them their marching orders had been just too much to contemplate. Oliver couldn’t have done that in a million years and, although she was a heck of a lot more switched on than he was, the prospect of sacking old retainers, even fairly ineffective old retainers, still stuck in her throat.
Few enough people had stuck by them through thin times.
‘And you need to drag the business into this century. The old-fashioned transport business needs to be updated. You need to take risks, to branch out, to try to capture smaller, more profitable markets instead of sticking to having lumbering dinosaurs doing cross-Channel deliveries. That’s all well and good but you need a lot more than that if your company is to be rescued from the quicksand.’
‘I...’ She quailed at the thought of herself and Oliver, along with a handful of maybe or maybe not efficient directors, undertaking a job of those proportions.
‘You and your brother are incapable of taking on this challenge,’ Javier told her bluntly and she glared at him even though he had merely spoken aloud what she had been thinking.
‘I’m sure if you agree to extend a loan,’ she muttered, ‘we can recruit good people who are capable of—’
‘Not going to happen. If I sink money into that business of yours, I want to be certain that I won’t be throwing my money into a black hole.’
‘That’s a bit unfair.’ She fiddled with the bun which, instead of making her feel blessedly cool in the scorching temperatures, was making her sweaty and uncomfortable. As were the formal, scratchy clothes, so unlike her normal dress code of jeans, tee shirts and sneakers.
She didn’t feel like the brisk, efficient potential client of someone who might want to extend a loan. She felt awkward, gauche and way too aware of the man looking at her narrowly, sizing her up in a way that made her want to squirm.
This wasn’t the guy she had known and loved. He hadn’t chucked her out of his office but, as far as feelings went, there was nothing there. There wasn’t a trace of that simmering attraction that had held them both mesmerised captives all those years ago. He wasn’t married but she wondered whether there was a woman in his life, someone rich and beautiful like him.
Even when he’d had no money, he could have had any woman he wanted.
Her mind boggled at the thought of how many women would now fall at his feet because he was the guy who had the full package.
A treacherous thought snaked into her head...
What if she’d defied her parents? What if she’d carried on seeing Javier? Had seen where that love might have taken them both?
It wouldn’t have worked.
Despite the fact that she had grown up with money, had had a rich and pampered life, money per se was not what motivated her. For Javier, it was the only thing that motivated him.
She looked at him from under her lashes, taking in the cut of his clothes, the hand-tailored shoes, the mega-expensive watch around which dark hair curled. He breathed wealth. It was what made him happy and made sense of his life.
She might be stressed out because of all the financial worries happening in her life, but if those worries were removed and she was given a clean slate, then she knew that she wouldn’t really care if that slate was a rich slate or not.
So, if she’d stayed with him, she certainly wouldn’t have been the sort of woman he’d have wanted. She might talk the talk but her jeans, tee shirts and sneakers would not have been found acceptable attire.
