In Petrakis's Power. Maggie Cox
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Regarding the ticket she’d lost, she’d told him that her father had sent it to her. Was he a wealthy man? Surely he must be. If that was the case then the pretty Natalie must have been used to a certain level of comfort before her parents had divorced. Would she be holding out for someone equally wealthy—if not more so—in a relationship?
Frowning, Ludo quickly decided it would make sense to ask for her phone number if he wanted to see her again, rather than give her his address. That way he would be the one in control of the situation, and if he should glean at any time that she was a gold-digger then he would drop her like a hot potato. Meanwhile, they could meet up for a drink while she was in London under the perfectly legitimate excuse of his allowing her to settle her debt. If after that things progressed satisfactorily between them, then Ludo would be only too happy to supply more personal information, such as his full address.
Feeling satisfied with his decision, he exhaled a sigh, briefly tunnelled his fingers through his floppily perfect hair, and slipped his mobile into the silk-lined pocket of his jacket. Before depressing the button that opened the automatic doors into the first-class compartment he stole a surreptitious glance through the glass at the slender, doe-eyed brunette who was gazing out of the window with her chin in her hand, as if daydreaming. His lips automatically curved into a smile. He couldn’t help anticipating her willing agreement to meet up with him for a date. What reason could she possibly have not to?
‘I don’t understand. You’re saying you want to meet me for a drink?’
Blinking in disbelief at the imposing Adonis who was surveying her with a wry twist of his carved lips as they stood together on the busy station platform, Natalie convinced herself she must have become hard of hearing. Ludo’s surprising suggestion sounded very much as if he was inviting her out on a date. But why on earth would he do such a thing? It just didn’t make sense. Perhaps she’d simply got the wrong end of the stick.
Practically every other woman who’d disembarked from the train was stealing covetous glances over her shoulder at the handsome and stylishly dressed man standing in front of her as she hurried by, she noticed. No doubt they were privately wondering why a girl as unremarkable as herself should capture his attention for so much as a second. Her heart skipped one or two anxious beats.
‘Yes, I do,’ he replied.
His jaw firmed and his blue eyes shimmered enigmatically. For Natalie, meeting such an arresting glance was like standing in the eye of a sultry tropical storm—it shook her as the wind shook a fragile sapling, threatening to uproot it. She held her voluminous red leather bag over her chest, as though it were some kind of protective shield, and couldn’t help frowning. Instead of sending her self-esteem soaring, Ludo’s suggestion that they meet up for a drink had had the opposite effect on her confidence. It hardly helped that in faded jeans and a floral print gypsy-style blouse she felt singularly dowdy next to him in his expensive Italian tailoring.
‘Why?’ she asked. ‘I only asked for your address so that I can send you the money for my train fare. You’ve already indicated that you’re a very busy man, so why would you go to all the trouble of meeting up with me instead of simply letting me post you a cheque?’
Her companion shook his head bemusedly, as if he couldn’t fathom what must be, to him, a very untypical response. Natalie guessed he wasn’t used to women turning him down for anything.
‘Aside from allowing you to personally pay me back for the ticket, I’d like to see you again, Natalie,’ he stated seriously. ‘Did such a possibility not occur to you? After all, you indicated to me on the train that you were a free agent … remember?’
Unfortunately, she had. She’d confessed she didn’t have a boyfriend when Ludo had assumed that if she had he must be too polite to tell her that she snored in her sleep. She blushed so hard at the memory that her delicate skin felt as if she stood bare inches from a roaring fire.
Adjusting her bag, she endeavoured to meet the steady, unwavering gaze that was so uncomfortably searing her. ‘Are you a free agent?’ she challenged. ‘For all I know you could be married with six children.’
He tipped back his head and released a short, heartfelt laugh. Never before had the sound of a man’s amusement brushed so sensually over her nerve-endings—as though he had stroked down her bare skin with the softest, most delicate feather. Out of the blue, a powerful ache to see him again infiltrated her blood and wouldn’t be ignored … even if he did inhabit an entirely different stratosphere from her.
‘I can assure you that I am neither married nor the father of six children. I told you before that I’ve been far too busy for that. Don’t you believe me?’
Ludo’s expression had become serious once more. Conscious of the now diminishing crowd leaving the train, and realising with relief that they were no longer the focus of unwanted interest, Natalie shrugged.
‘All I’ll say is that I hope you’re telling me the truth. Honesty is really important to me. All right, then. When do you want us to meet?’
‘How long do you think you’ll be in London?’
‘Probably a couple of days at most … that is unless my dad needs me around for longer.’ Once again she was unable to control the tremor of fear in her voice at the thought that her father might be seriously ill. To stop from dwelling on the subject, and to prevent any uncomfortable quizzing from Ludo, she smiled and added quickly, ‘I’ll just have to wait and see, won’t I?’
‘If you are only going to be staying in town for a couple of days, that doesn’t give us very much time. That being the case, I think we should meet up tomorrow evening, don’t you?’ There was an unexpected glint of satisfied expectation in his eyes. ‘I can book us a table at Claridges. What time would suit you best?’
‘The restaurant, you mean? I thought you said we were only meeting for a drink?’
‘Don’t you eat in the evenings?’
‘Of course, but—’
‘What time?’
‘Eight o’clock?’
‘Eight o’clock it is, then. Let me have your mobile number so I can ring you if I’m going to be delayed.’
Her brow puckering, Natalie was thoughtful. ‘Okay, I’ll give it to you. But don’t forget it might be me who’s delayed or can’t make it if my dad isn’t well … in which case you’d better let me have your number.’
With another one of his enigmatic smiles, Ludo acquiesced unhesitatingly.
She’d never got used to a doorman letting her into the rather grand Victorian building where her father’s luxurious flat was situated. It made her feel