At The Greek Tycoon's Bidding. Cathy Williams
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‘So does she?’ Heather persisted.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Your mother. Does she come over and visit?’
Theo shook his head in pure exasperation. ‘Occasionally,’ he finally conceded. ‘She visits my country house, and when she does I commute to London. She hates the city. In fact, she has never been here. There—satisfied?’
Heather nodded. For the moment, she wanted to say, before remembering that there would be no more moments, that in fact she was only here because he felt duty-bound to send her on her way with a bit more concern than he would probably otherwise have shown because he had effectively cost her her cleaning job. Which suddenly brought her back down to earth and the reality of losing an income, small though it was, which was necessary to her. She closed her knife and fork on the half-eaten plate of food and cupped her chin in one hand.
‘You’re finished?’ Theo asked in amazement.
Heather felt a little jab of hurt coil deep inside her. Through the shield of her naturally sunny disposition she suddenly had a bleak vision of an alternative reality. The reality that was coldly pointing out that while she had nurtured pleasant fantasies about this tall, aggressively handsome man, while she had always made sure to clean his floor when she knew that he was going to be around, he had never once glanced in her direction—would not have recognised her if she had landed opposite him on a desert island. And while she luxuriated in the thrill of being in his company now, unexpected as it was, the thrill was not mutual. To him she was nothing but an overweight woman whose company he was probably itching to get away from.
‘Did you think that I would carry on eating till I exploded?’ Heather said, far more sharply than she had intended. She softened her uncharacteristically sarcastic reply with a rueful smile. ‘Sorry, I was just thinking about what I shall do now that I no longer have a job to go to in the evenings.’
‘I can’t believe that you really have to hold down two jobs to survive. Surely you can cut back on one or two luxuries…make ends meet that way…?’
Heather laughed. Rich, warm laughter that had a few heads turning in her direction.
‘You don’t live in the real world, Mr Miquel…’
‘Theo…’
‘Well, you don’t. I don’t have any luxuries to cut back on. Friends come over for meals and we watch television and maybe drink a couple of bottles of wine on a Saturday night, and in summer we go on picnics in the park. I don’t do theatres or restaurants or even cinemas very often. Actually, I don’t have an awful lot of free time anyway, which is probably a good thing when it comes to balancing my finances…’ The look of horror on his face was growing by the second, but Heather was unfazed by that. Of course he wouldn’t understand the world she lived in. Why should he? She probably only had a vague inkling of his. ‘I prefer to save up for my course rather than blow money on clothes and entertainment.’
‘And I thought being young was all about being reckless,’ Theo drawled. With a spurt of surprise, he realised that he was having fun. Not quite the same fun that he normally had in the company of a woman, but he felt invigorated. Maybe his jaded palette needed novelty more often.
Heather lifted one shoulder dismissively. ‘Maybe it is, if you can support a reckless lifestyle. Anyway, I’m not a reckless kind of person.’
‘Then perhaps you should reconsider your job with this man…’
‘Tom?’ She looked at him in surprise. ‘What’s so reckless about working behind a bar a few nights every week? Just so long as I laugh a lot and chat to the punters, Tom will be more than happy with me.’
Theo looked down and did a rapid rethink on his original assumption, which seemed ridiculous now that he thought about it. ‘Long hours?’ was all he said, and she nodded.
‘Very long and very tiring, which was why I turned down his offer all those months ago. But needs must. There aren’t that many jobs a girl can do at night, and I can’t fit anything else into my days.’ She sighed. How helpful it would have been if Claire had been true to her word and sent back some of that money she had borrowed all that time ago. But it had been two months since she had spoken to her sister, and a lot longer since they had physically met up. It would be crazy when contact was so limited and precious, to start asking for her loan back.
‘Anyway, no point moaning about all of that.’ She smiled. ‘The food was delicious. Thank you. I’m glad I came.’
‘Even though you couldn’t bear the thought of everyone staring at you?’ He poured her another glass of wine, finishing the bottle, and wondered whether he should order another. If novelty had been what he was after, then he had certainly found it in this woman who was prepared to eat and drink without fear of the consequences. He also realised that it would be no hardship to prolong the evening a bit. After all, his current girlfriend was no longer around, and issues of work would wait until the morning, when he would return to his office to complete what he had started.
‘More wine?’ he asked, signalling to the waiter as he waited for her response.
Heather’s face felt flushed. In fact, she felt quite warm, and would have removed her jumper but for the fact that the old tee shirt she was wearing underneath was even more of an eyesore than the thick grey sweater she had hurriedly stuck on when she had left the house earlier in the evening.
‘Aren’t I keeping you from something?’ She looked at him earnestly.
‘Like what?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Don’t you have somewhere to go? A date or something?’
‘My date cancelled on me when I told her that I was running late.’
So that had been the urgent phone call which she had glimpsed out of the corner of her eye. Heather felt a rush of guilt and she reddened.
‘That’s awful!’ She half stood up but he waved her back down, nodding at the waiter to pour the wine he had ordered. ‘I can’t be the cause of a row between you and your girlfriend. I’m sorry.’
‘Sit back down,’ Theo ordered, amused at her attack of conscience. ‘You simply helped along the inevitable, if it’s any consolation. Sit! People will stare. You don’t want that, do you?’
Heather grudgingly took her seat, but her eyes were still anxiously focused on his face. ‘What do you mean?’ She gulped a mouthful of wine and then pushed the glass away from her.
‘I mean—’ he leant towards her ‘—I can see the group of people behind you, and they’re just waiting to see if you’re about to commit social suicide by causing a scene…’
‘That’s not what I meant!’
‘I’m aware of that.’
‘Oh!’ She pushed some flyaway hair out of her face. ‘Then what did you mean? About me helping along the inevitable? Were you going to dump her?’
‘Sooner or later.’ He sprawled back into his chair, folded his arms and stared at her transparently distraught face. Who would have imagined that the girl cleaning his office would have proved such a refreshing companion