darling?’ she murmured.
‘Count on it.’
‘Mmm.’ She traced her upper lip with the tip of her tongue. ‘Delicious.’ With blithe unconcern she transferred her attention to the plate holding her main course, and cut a gourmet potato into delicate portions.
What was it about a vibrantly attractive, sensual man that caused women to test their flirting skills? she posed a while later as she used her flatware with delicate ease to sample the dessert course.
The challenge? An innate need to prove they still ‘had it’, for whatever reason?
Maybe to some it was just a harmless game … or possibly the several flutes of champagne were to blame.
One woman at their table became quite blatant in her attempt to gain Wolfe’s attention, which irked Lara more than it should have.
It didn’t help when he covered her hand with his own and caressed a light pattern over the sensitive bones.
Overkill? Or was he intent on making a statement?
She told herself she didn’t care, but that wasn’t entirely true.
The MC introduced the entertainment, a group of musicians who came on stage, and the ballroom lights dimmed as the group went through their number.
Wolfe leant back in his chair as he watched the fleeting expressions on Lara’s features, her faint smile as she applauded a popular number, and the soft laughter at the deliberate antics of one band member as the group parodied a well-known hit.
She intrigued him on several different levels. Circumspect with his credit card, according to Mike, when he’d fully expected her to spend a small fortune.
What was more, she didn’t ask for a thing … and he was willing to swear she hadn’t been sexually active for some time. Unless she was a superb actress, which he seriously doubted, her previous lovers had cared more for their own pleasure than hers.
The music faded, the overhead lights flared to full strength, and the waiters began serving coffee.
The evening was almost at a close, and Lara felt a sense of relief when Wolfe used his phone to alert Mike to bring the car to the hotel entrance.
Her first social occasion as Wolfe’s wife was about to conclude, and she didn’t protest as he caught hold of her hand and threaded his fingers through her own, then he offered their excuses to the remaining guests at their table and rose to his feet.
The Mercedes with Mike at the wheel was waiting for them, and within minutes the powerful car eased into traffic and headed towards their Upper East Side apartment.
It was good to be able to drop the façade as they emerged from the car at the entrance to their apartment building.
‘We managed that well,’ Wolfe opined as they entered the lounge, and she turned towards him.
‘You mean the touchy-feely thing? Stefania? The fact you’re a babe magnet?’ She waited a beat or two. ‘Or is Stefania off-limits?’
‘This is the part where we conduct a post mortem?’
She summoned a superficial smile. ‘Of all your women? How long will it take?’ She deliberately arched both eyebrows. ‘I would like to go to bed before dawn.’
His husky laughter undid her, and without a further word she crossed the lounge and made for the bedroom.
For a brief moment she considered occupying one of the guest rooms, only to change her mind.
Instead, she’d undress, remove her make-up, don her nightshirt, slip beneath the covers on her side of the large bed … and turn her back on him.
Not exactly subtle, but he’d get the message.
Except it didn’t quite work out that way—for she pretended sleep when she heard him enter the main suite, followed by the soft rustle of clothes being removed, and several minutes later she sensed him occupy the other side of the bed.
There was a faint click as the bedside lamp plunged the room into darkness … then nothing.
Silence. No movement. And soon she detected the sound of his even breathing.
He was asleep?
How could he do that, when she so needed to vent …?
Conducting a silent mental fight wasn’t anywhere near as satisfactory as the real thing, and she plotted his downfall in several different ways before drifting to sleep.
CHAPTER NINE
LARA woke to find the bed empty, the apartment quiet, and when she checked there was a set of keys and a note propped up against the kitchen servery from Wolfe, alerting her that he’d already left for the office.
Her phone rang as she was drinking her second cup of coffee, and she picked up to discover Wolfe on the line.
‘I’ll be caught up with business meetings all day,’ he began without preamble. ‘One of which will inevitably stretch into the evening. Don’t wait dinner.’
‘Fine.’
‘Mike will call in the next few minutes, and take you anywhere you want to go. Shopping?’ ‘Thanks.’
Short, polite, the necessities covered.
What had she expected?
So why did she feel disappointed?
When Mike called, she asked to meet him downstairs in ten, and she slipped her feet into comfortable shoes, caught up a jacket, shoulderbag, keys and made for the lift.
‘Fifth and Madison?’ Mike queried as she slid into the front seat. ‘It’ll be a pleasure to act as tour guide.’
She lifted both hands in a conciliatory gesture. ‘OK, I get it. Wolfe’s orders.’
‘Instructions,’ Mike corrected as he swung out into the traffic.
It was a pleasant day, and an interesting one, as they explored the different levels of the Guggenheim museum, studying the displayed art and the special exhibitions featuring major works by nineteenth- and twentieth-century artists in the Rotunda and Tower galleries.
Mike was an easy person to converse with, and it didn’t seem intrusive to ask how long he’d been in Wolfe’s employ.
‘Five years.’
Maybe she’d ask Wolfe to fill in some of the blanks.
Meantime there were places to go, things to see, and who better to have as a companion than someone who knew the city?
He delivered her to the apartment building just before six, and she showered, changed into jeans and a knit top, then made herself an omelette with mushrooms, tomatoes, shallots and cheese. She ate it in the dining room, tidied up the kitchen, then settled herself comfortably
