base of the staircase. She’d used the time to advantage. He was so taken aback by the result he was momentarily lost for words. Once again, she’d surprised him.
No trace of backpacker remained. She wore a simple black dress, buttoned down the front and belted at the waist, with elbow-length sleeves. The hem stopped just above her knees to display slender legs encased in fine charcoal stockings and finished with low-heeled black pumps.
‘Do I look okay for the restaurant?’ she said, aware of his overly long inspection.
Her hair had been tamed and pulled half back off her face. She’d darkened around her eyes, which made them look even bluer, and her mouth gleamed with a warm pink lipstick.
‘You look very nice,’ he said, then cursed inwardly that he’d used such an overworked English word. Eisai omorfi were the words that sprang to his mind—You look beautiful. But that would be inappropriate.
‘Great, because this is the only dress I’ve got with me,’ she said with a sigh of relief. ‘It’s what I wear when I’m waitressing at posh parties. Maids in Chelsea doesn’t have a uniform—a black dress is required for such occasions. My friend Sophie gave this to me when I started there. She’s a fashion designer—when she’s not a maid or waitress, that is—she’d made it for herself then adjusted it to fit me.’ She smiled. ‘But I guess that’s too much information, isn’t it?’
Lukas was still shaken by his reaction to how good she looked in that dress. It was discreet, modest even, but it fitted snugly and made no secret of her curves, a hint of cleavage in the open neckline, the belt emphasising her narrow waist and the flare of her hips. He had to clear his voice to speak. ‘Not really. Now I know you have a friend Sophie who is generous and good to you.’
Ashleigh smiled—not her full-on dazzling smile but halfway to it. ‘I went to school in Manchester with Sophie when we were teenagers and we’ve always stayed in touch. She got me the job too. Then introduced me to two of the other girls at Maids in Chelsea and we’ve all become friends.’ She looked up at him, that smile still hovering around her mouth. ‘But none with a sofa available when I needed it.’
Lukas smiled in response. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he was glad she’d ended up at his house—but his outrage at her impudence had dissipated.
‘You’ll be cold when we get outside.’ He noticed she had a coat slung over her arm. ‘Get your coat on and we’ll walk to the restaurant.’
She shrugged on her coat and once again Lukas stared at her, this time in what he feared was ill-concealed dismay. Of course she picked up on it. ‘It’s not great, is it?’ she said of the shabby quilted anorak that didn’t meet the hem of her dress.
‘Is that the only coat you have?’
‘A warm overcoat is not something you need in Bundaberg’s tropical climate,’ she said. ‘I borrowed this from my sister from when she backpacked around Europe. I’m waiting until next payday to buy something more suitable for London.’
‘In the meantime, you shiver?’ he said.
‘Let’s just say I walk really fast when I’m outside,’ she said. ‘Oh, and these help.’ From out of her coat pocket she pulled a hideous checked scarf and a pair of knitted mittens and flourished them in front of him. Lukas had to refrain from shuddering his distaste. He might have his issues with his mother but she was the most elegantly dressed woman he knew, and had set the standard for how he expected a woman to dress. He’d have to schedule a shopping expedition for Ashleigh in the morning so she looked the part for their fake date.
‘You can’t wear that out with me,’ he said, too bluntly.
‘Oh,’ she said, suddenly subdued. Without protest, she slid the odious excuse for a coat off her shoulders. ‘Then I guess I’ll shiver in just my dress.’ With great exaggeration, she wrapped her arms around herself and made her teeth chatter. ‘I’ll walk really, really fast to the restaurant.’
‘No need for that,’ he said, heading for the cloakroom under the stairs. ‘My mother left a coat behind on her last visit. She’s a little taller than you but I think it will fit.’
‘Your mother won’t mind?’
‘My mother has so many clothes she’s probably forgotten she has it,’ he said.
Lukas flicked through the coats and jackets he left here for his own use. ‘Here it is,’ he said and pulled out a wraparound coat of fine wool in a subtle leopard print with a shawl collar. A faint whiff of his mother’s signature perfume drifted to his nostrils. It brought memories of his glamorous mama kissing him goodnight before she headed out for yet another party, leaving him once again with his nanny. He’d grown up loving his nanny more than his mother. He held out the coat to Ashleigh.
‘Oh, I love it,’ she breathed, her eyes wide with admiration. ‘Are you sure it’s okay for me to wear it?’
‘Would I offer if it wasn’t?’
‘It’s just that it looks very expensive.’
‘I’m sure it is,’ he said. His mother’s extravagance wasn’t the sole reason his parents’ management of the company had brought the business crashing to its knees, but it had certainly contributed to it.
He held the coat open. ‘Here, let me help you into it.’
As Ashleigh slid her arms into the coat it brought her close to him. So close he could smell her scent—something fresh and light and appealing. Much like Ashleigh herself.
She shrugged the coat over her shoulders, headed to the large mirror on the wall opposite the stairs. There she tied the belt around her waist, adjusted the collar. Then fluffed up her hair and pouted at her image as she scrutinised her appearance, in a gesture that was instinctively feminine. She snuggled into the coat and closed her eyes in bliss. Lukas was stunned by the sensuality of her expression he saw reflected in the mirror.
‘This is the most wonderful coat,’ she purred as she stepped away from the mirror. ‘I’ve never worn anything like it. Thank you, Mrs Christophedes.’ She blew a kiss in the direction of the cloakroom. The warm tones of the leopard print were perfect for her colouring, making her hair seem to flame under the hallway chandelier, lifting her pale skin. She did a graceful little twirl and the hem of the coat swung open to show her legs. She looked sensational. ‘And thank you too, Mr Christo—’
‘Lukas,’ he said gruffly, keeping his hands fisted by his sides.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Lukas.’ His name sounded like a caress on her voice. ‘I’ll have to get used to calling you that. Be careful not to give the game away when we’re on our fake date.’
‘Yes,’ he said.
He would have to be careful too. When he’d devised the solution to the problem with Tina Norris, he hadn’t expected to feel any stirrings of attraction to his pretend girlfriend. He could not let that happen.
‘You know, Lukas,’ she said, exaggerating his name. ‘You were right. I think I really am going to enjoy this...role playing.’ She unleashed the full force of her dazzling smile. ‘Let’s get started straight away.’
