alarm went off four hours later, she felt like an animal who had been disturbed from hibernation three months early. Thankfully with the morning came rational thought: that there was only one question that mattered, and that was whether or not he planned to offer her the job of working on her dream commission.
Which meant she had to treat this breakfast—however unwelcome the concept was to her—like a job interview.
A job interview she wished she could attend in something other than yesterday’s crumpled suit, she thought uneasily as she walked towards the veranda where Boyet had told her she would find Leon at eight-twenty. At least she’d had the foresight to pack a change of underwear and a clean top.
Now that it was daylight, she noticed for the first time that this side of the palace had the most fantastic view of the bay below, the ocean so blue it reminded her of a glittering jewel. As she stepped onto the cream tiles of the patio, she was forced to admit that Leon gave the landscape a run for its money. He was sitting on a wrought-iron chair, one leg crossed over the other whilst he leafed through the day’s La Tribune, looking more like a male model than a prince in his cool white linen shirt which had far less buttons done up than most other men could have got away with. On him, she thought shamefully, it seemed criminal not to be unbuttoned any more.
‘You like the view?’ he drawled, closing the paper.
Cally turned back to the horizon, all too aware that he had caught her out. ‘I suppose it’s on a par with the British coastline.’ She shrugged, determined to remain indifferent to everything even remotely connected to him.
‘Oh yes, this is England—just without rain,’ he replied dryly as he motioned to the chair.
Cally sat, resting her portfolio on her knee, her back rigid and eyes lowered. The exact opposite of his languorous pose.
He ran his eyes openly over her face. ‘You look terrible. Didn’t you sleep?’
The insult cut her to the quick. She ought to be glad that he was through with faking desire where she was concerned, but it only made her feel worse. She could just imagine the kind of woman he was used to having breakfast with—perfectly made-up, top-to-toe designer. Just like Portia had been the morning she’d answered David’s door sporting that enormous pink diamond.
‘I’m afraid this is the way a woman who isn’t plastered in make-up tends to look in the morning, Leon.’
He shook his head irritably. ‘You are not the kind of woman who requires any make-up. I simply meant that you look a little—drained.’
The compliment caught her off guard, and she didn’t know what to do with it. ‘Actually, I could count the number of hours’ sleep I’ve had on one hand. Without the use of my thumb.’
Leon stifled a smile and made a show of furrowing his brow as he poured her a strong black coffee without asking whether she wanted any. ‘That suite has just been refurnished. I was assured that particular mattress was the best on the market. I will have to see that it is changed.’
How typical that he thought every problem in life could be solved by material goods, she thought irritably, trying to ignore the delicious scent of the coffee wafting invitingly up her nostrils. ‘There was nothing wrong with the bed, save for the fact that it was under your roof.’
‘Large houses have a few too many dark corners for you?’ he suggested with feigned concern as Boyet appeared with a tray overflowing with food: spiced bread, honey, fruit with natural yogurt, freshly squeezed orange in two different jugs—one with pulp and one without. Cally’s mouth watered, and she could feel her ravenous stomach start to rumble, but she cleared her throat to disguise it.
‘Whilst you are right that it does have an unnecessarily large number of rooms, it had nothing to do with that. Believe it or not, I simply have no desire to be anywhere near you.’
‘Yet you are still here.’
‘Like you said, whatever my personal feelings, I would be foolish not to make this important decision in my career without discussing the facts.’
‘Over breakfast.’ He nodded as if her career was immaterial. ‘But you are yet to have a sip of coffee or a morsel of any food. So, eat.’
It was tempting to say she wasn’t hungry, but the tantalising aroma of nutmeg and sultanas was too enticing, and she succumbed to a piece of bread.
Leon watched her, thinking it was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen as she bit into it hungrily before twisting her rosebud of a mouth back into a look of disapproval.
‘No woman I’ve ever invited to breakfast has ever tried so hard to look unhappy about it as you.’
Thinking about the different women who might have sat in this self-same seat before her for a second time made Cally fidget uncomfortably, and do up another button on her suit jacket despite the rising heat of the early-morning sunshine.
‘Emotions are irrelevant, aren’t they?’ She slid her portfolio from her side of the table to his, telling herself to ignore his casual attire and the holiday setting and treat this in exactly the same way as she had treated her interview at the London City Gallery. ‘This contains photographs of all my major restorations, as well as details of my qualifications. I specialised in Rénard for the theory side of my post-grad.’
He opened it casually, flicking to the first page and briefly reading through her CV as he sipped his coffee.
‘You began studying for a fine-art degree in London,’ he said thoughtfully, raising his head. ‘But you didn’t finish?’
Trust him to notice that first. She remembered the owner of the London City Gallery getting to the same question at her second interview—remembered how, after all the years of hard work, she had finally felt able to answer it with confidence and integrity. So why did she feel so ashamed when he asked?
‘No, I didn’t complete it.’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘And it was a mistake not to. But for two years afterwards I worked a full-time job, and painted and studied in every spare moment I had. The Cambridge Institute then accepted me on their diploma in conservation based on my aptitude and commitment.’
‘So why didn’t you finish it?’ Leon flicked her portfolio shut without looking at another page. ‘Did you fall in love with a university professor and drop out in a fit of unrequited love?’
‘I don’t think that’s relevant, do you?’
Leon saw a flash of something in her eyes which told him he had hit a raw nerve. He was tempted to probe deeper, but at the same time the thought of her having past lovers, let alone hearing about them, irritated him. Which was preposterous, because the women he slept with always matched him in experience.
He looked her straight in the eye. ‘Actually, I happen to think the way someone behaves in personal relationships is indicative of the way they are likely to behave as an employee.’
Suddenly, the penny dropped in Cally’s mind. So that was what London had been about. She felt herself grow even hotter beneath the fabric of her dark jacket as she realised what that meant. It had all been an underhand investigation into whether he considered her fit for the job, and she could only imagine what his conclusion had been!
Wasn’t it just typical that the one night she had acted completely
