A Suspicious Proposal. Helen Brooks

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A Suspicious Proposal - Helen Brooks Mills & Boon Modern

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Xavier Grey,’ she said with honeyed charm.

      ‘Hello, Janice.’ He was out to seduce, all right. The deep voice was seriously sensual, and Essie could have giggled if it weren’t for the sudden alarms that had gone off all over her body. He was too good at this, that was the trouble, she told herself quickly, and in this particular instance that suggested a great deal of experience. The warm, smoky tone of his voice, the mellowing of that harsh, rugged face and the deliciously tempting smell of his aftershave all spoke of a dedicated wolf in sheep’s clothing. Well, perhaps not his aftershave, she admitted to herself in the next instant; that was probably just part of the man himself. But the rest… It was a definite practised, tried and tested come-on and no doubt had rendered Xavier dividends in the past. But not today, and not with her.

      She nestled back against him, trying to ignore how perfectly her head fitted under his chin and how it felt to be in the arms of a virile, powerful man like him, telling herself she owed it to all the other women in the world to teach him that all cats weren’t grey in the dark. But the touch of sanctimonious self-righteousness was swiftly dispelled by her innate honesty. She was doing this for herself, no one else and he deserved it; he really did.

      ‘How old are you, Janice?’

      There was a note to his voice now she couldn’t quite place and it made her tilt her face to his again. ‘You mean the family grapevine hasn’t dotted the i’s and crossed the t’s?’ she asked lightly. ‘I would have thought you’d have been given the low-down, on both sides, to the last tiny detail.’

      His eyes crinkled and her stomach flipped, and this time it was nothing to do with the crab and prawn cocktail. ‘Family gossip is the worst thing,’ he agreed softly.

      ‘Isn’t it just?’ She dimpled up at him, batting her eyelashes in true Hollywood style. ‘But thorough.’

      ‘You’re twenty years old, unattached, and determined to branch out into the precarious world of entertainment—their opinion, not mine,’ he added hastily.

      ‘That’s what they told you about little old Janice Beaver?’ Essie asked teasingly.

      ‘Uh-huh.’

      ‘Then I guess I can’t argue with it.’

      He nodded slowly. ‘How old do you think I am?’ he asked after a long moment.

      Oh, help. Essie kept her face fixed in its come-hither mode as her mind sought a throwaway line to finish what had become a minefield and came up empty. ‘I don’t know; thirty, thirty-one maybe?’ she suggested with a winsome smile. He looked to be in his late thirties, maybe early forties, but that wouldn’t win her any prizes in this sweepstake.

      ‘You’re being kind.’ He grinned down at her and again her body responded with frightening immediacy to the lethal male charm that was becoming stronger every second she was with him. ‘I’m thirty-three,’ he said softly, ‘but I know I look a good few years older.’

      She couldn’t think of a thing to say, so she batted her eyelashes again for good measure and shrugged offhandedly. ‘I’m not into this age thing.’ She wrinkled her small nose at him provocatively. ‘Toy-boys, toy-girls, sugar-daddies and all that—so what? It’s just society putting labels on people when all’s said and done, don’t you think?’ And then, as the somewhat sombre waltz changed to a pop number and disco lights began to flash, she added, ‘Prepare your ears for blasting. Christine gave in to the first three dances being formal but the rest of the music is her and Charlie’s choice and they’re into soul and rock and roll.’

      ‘Great. Time for a drink, I think.’ As the hard male body straightened away from her, she was shocked at the sudden sense of loss she felt, but then he was guiding her towards the bar and, to her horror, she saw Charlie’s brother and his wife and in-laws in a little group directly in front of them. It was too soon to blow her cover!

      ‘I’ll wait here.’ She ducked into a small alcove, but not before he had followed her eyes.

      ‘Right.’ The warmth had gone from his voice and now his eyes were blue ice. ‘Went a bit too far, did you?’

      ‘I beg your pardon?’ She stared at him, utterly at a loss.

      ‘With Edward.’ He indicated Charlie’s brother with a wave of his hand. ‘I noticed you two were getting on rather well during the meal. Wife objected, did she?’

      ‘What?’ She didn’t believe this man; she really didn’t. First he had her typecast as a fluffy little coquette without a brain in her head and now she was a would-be husband-stealer, too! The man was obsessed. She knew she’d gone scarlet—temper always affected her that way—but just as she opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of him a portly matron—a vision in bright pink and mauve—descended on them. Her red-painted mouth was already gushing how absolutely wonderful it was to see him, she’d heard so much about him, and hadn’t it been a positively divine service?

      Xavier was polite, just about, but his voice was cool with a satirical bite and the woman didn’t linger. Nevertheless, it gave Essie a few precious moments to gather her wits and take control of her tongue. He’d pay for that last remark. Not yet, no—she’d take this as far as it could go—but it would make the moment he found out he’d been made a prize fool of all the more precious. What gave him the right to set himself up as judge and jury on other people, anyway? she thought tightly as she watched him make his way to the bar after he had asked her what she would like to drink. She had thought of asking for a double brandy or something similar—to fit the image—but, just in case he took her at her word, she hadn’t dared. Her delicate stomach couldn’t cope with anything stronger than tonic water.

      By the time he returned, Essie was fully into the part she was playing again. As they sat down at a vacant table, she set to with gusto, regaling him with a few of the anecdotes Janice had told them last night about her life at college—and out of it—especially the more outrageous bits. Janice had had no compunction in revealing she was no vestal virgin, and now, as Essie related the other girl’s stories, she had the added advantage of authenticity.

      And yet she wasn’t getting quite the reaction she had expected, she admitted to herself after some time had passed. He ought to be congratulating himself that he was on to a good thing, but if he was he was hiding it well, she thought caustically. The air of disapproval was stronger now, if anything.

      ‘You’ll burn yourself out if you’re not careful.’ His voice was abrupt after she had giggled her way through Janice’s antics at the college Christmas party, which were definitely X-rated.

      Funnily enough, it was exactly what she herself had said to Janice the night before, and now she gave the answer Janice had given her in the same flippant tone the other girl had used. ‘Life’s for living and I want to get the most I can out of mine.’

      ‘I think you’ve made that very clear,’ he said grimly.

      ‘And you?’ She leant forward now, just close enough so her perfume—a wildly expensive one that Christine and Charlie had given her and Janice to thank them for being bridesmaids—tickled his senses and the soft silk of her hair brushed his face for a moment. ‘What about you?’ she asked softly. ‘Don’t you believe in having a good time?’

      ‘Oh, yes, Janice. I believe in having a good time,’ he said with a sudden silky dangerousness that caused the alarm bells to start ringing.

      She was out of her league here.

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