what?
‘I hadn’t planned on staying the night,’ Cesar said to his brother, barging in on their conversation, which came to an abrupt halt. He wasn’t looking at her but he could feel her eyes on him and mentally he flexed his muscles, intrigued at whatever was stirring beneath the surface.
‘Ah.’ Freddy smiled apologetically. ‘There’s an excellent hotel in the city…’
Cesar frowned. ‘Don’t you have a house locally?’
‘Well. Apartment, in actual fact. Pretty small…’
Cesar glanced across at Jude, whose eyes were studiously averted, and his mouth tightened a fraction.
‘It’s snowing pretty heavily,’ Cesar said bluntly, ‘and I have no intention of driving around in circles looking for somewhere to stay. What’s the name of the hotel?’
‘Name of the hotel…’ Freddy glanced quickly at Jude, who sighed in resignation.
‘I have a phone book at my place,’ she said grudgingly. ‘If you drop me home, I can reserve a room for you.’
‘Drop you home? How did you get here?’
‘I came with Freddy.’
‘Did you now…’ Cesar murmured. He smiled and inclined his head to one side. ‘Well, that sounds like an offer I’m in no position to refuse… And tomorrow, Fernando…we need to have a little chat…’
‘Of course, big brother!’ He slapped him warmly on the back and gave him a semblance of a hug, which came naturally to neither of them.
Cesar, accustomed as he was to a stilted relationship with his brother, nevertheless felt a twinge of genuine regret at the lack of real warmth between them. The loss of their parents when he had only just been out of his teens should have brought them closer together. Instead, it had done the opposite. With the mantle of the family’s empire resting heavily on his shoulders, Cesar wondered if he had failed in his main duty as a brother—to love him. He had had to don his responsibilities quickly and he had been impatient with Freddy’s lack of ambition which he had seen as weakness. He shoved aside the irksome thoughts—he’d worked hard to provide a stable and secure life for his brother. He’d done his best.
‘My car’s out at the front.’
‘Why didn’t you use the car park at the rear?’
‘Because, believe it or not, I was inclined to think I had arrived at the wrong address when I got here. I never suspected that the place was functional or that there was a parking area at the back.’
Freddy beamed. ‘Clever, isn’t it? We can discuss all of that tomorrow.’ He was already backing away and Jude eyed Cesar warily. The last thing she wanted was to be cooped up in a car with him, go back to her house with him, but she had no choice. Freddy couldn’t possibly take him back to the apartment—not with Imogen there.
Just thinking of that little secret by omission made her flush guiltily. Imogen should have been at the little party tonight. She was, after all, the key player in the game, but Freddy had insisted that she be kept out of sight. At least for the moment. Having met Cesar, Jude could understand why, because Cesar was a man in whom suspicion was deeply embedded. She could sense it in his conversation, which had been a thin cover- up for a cross examination. One look at Imogen, her long blonde hair, her big blue eyes and her legs that went on for ever, and Freddy’s trust fund would have been written off for good. The fact that she was nearly seven months pregnant with Freddy’s baby would have brought on cardiac arrest.
‘We could just drive into the city,’ Jude said once inside the car, which was as comfortable as any of those wildly overpriced sofas Freddy had insisted on buying for the club. She glanced worriedly at the snow, which was falling thickly white. ‘I don’t live a million miles from here but my place is down some narrow country lanes and this car might not make it.’
‘This car,’ Cesar informed her, reversing and swinging the car in the right direction, ‘is equipped to cope with anything.’
‘Anything except snow in Kent in the middle of January. For that, you really need something a bit more robust. These sorts of fashion cars might be all right for London but they’re rubbish out in the country.’
Cesar gave her a look of pure incredulity but she was frowning out of the window, busily trying to work out how fast he could reasonably travel without ending up in a ditch.
She directed him out to the main street which, at a little past one in the morning with the snow pelting down, was deserted. It took a ridiculously long time to clear the city, then came a series of winding country lanes, each one more treacherous than the last.
‘How the hell do you make out in these sorts of conditions?’ Cesar muttered under his breath, every ounce of concentration focused on getting them to her house in one piece.
‘I have a four-wheel drive,’ Jude admitted. ‘It’s old but it’s pretty reliable and it can get through just about anything.’
‘As opposed to this fashion statement I drive.’ He glanced over at her, then back at the road.
‘I could never afford a car like this in a million years. Not that I’d ever want one. I don’t see the point of them.’
‘It’s called comfort.’ Cesar realised that he didn’t know the first thing about her. What job did she have? Aside from helping his brother on some so-called project, which could be anything from doing his accounts to colour coordinating his wardrobe. He would need to find out more about her to ascertain what her motives were. For the moment, however, he was too preoccupied with controlling his car in these conditions for too much detailed questioning and, as he rounded a corner at a snail’s pace, he began to wonder how he was going to find his way back into the civilised roads of the city and the comfort of a hotel room.
‘I would choose practicality over comfort any day of the week.’
‘I gathered as much from your choice of clothing tonight.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘Meaning—is your house going to be coming into view any time soon because, if I go any slower, we might just as well get out of the car and walk the remainder of the way.’
‘It’s just up ahead.’ She pointed to a dim light, barely visible through the downfall, but she was mentally chewing over what he had said about her clothing. Yes, she had worn her jeans because they were comfortable and it hadn’t been a fussy affair. She hadn’t been the only one there wearing jeans. So maybe most of the women had worn something slightly more formal, but she had looked presentable enough!
She glanced down at her thick black duffel coat and her black boots, which were perfect winter garb although they did seem a little incongruous against the cream luxury leather of his car. Then she slid her eyes across to where he was frowning in concentration at what was trying to pass for a road.
He might be the rudest man she had ever met, but there was no denying that he was frighteningly good-looking. In a scary
way, she amended. Not her type at all. He made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
As the car tackled the last lap of the trip, she heard
