Running From the Storm. Lee Wilkinson
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you meeting someone there?’
‘I’m staying with a friend.’
‘Oh?’ He raised a questioning brow.
For no good reason, she found herself explaining, ‘Sam’s an old school friend.’
‘Male or female?’
‘Female.’
‘I see.’ He looked satisfied. ‘What time is she expecting you?’
‘No particular time. Whenever I get there.’
‘Well Catona’s only a couple of hours away at the most. You could always have dinner with me first. After all, you’ll need to eat some time,’ he pointed out persuasively.
As Caris hesitated, he added, ‘If you don’t say yes, I’ll know you haven’t forgiven me.’
‘But I have forgiven you.’
He smiled into her eyes. ‘Then tell me where you live and I’ll pick you up at … shall we say seven?’
Without intending to, Caris found herself telling him, ‘I live in Apartment One-A, Lampton House, Darlington Square.’
She was about to explain how to find it when he said cheerfully, ‘I know Darlington Square. I have a small apartment quite near there.
‘Until seven, then.’ He sketched a brief salute and was gone.
She must be stark, staring mad! she thought, gazing after him. Pressure of work had meant burning the midnight oil for the past couple of weeks, and she had intended to get to Catona in time to have an early night tonight.
So what on earth had made her agree to go out with a man she had only just met, and whose first name she didn’t even know? A man who had proved he could be not only difficult but downright demoralizing? A man she had felt instinctively was dangerous?
The truth was she had found him damn-nigh irresistible, and that element of danger added a dash of excitement and spice that had been sadly missing from her life.
When her doorbell rang promptly at seven, Caris was ready and organized, her evening bag and jacket to hand, her small vacation case and holdall packed and waiting to be put into her car later.
With no idea where he intended to take her, she had been undecided what to wear. In the end, having little else because she so rarely went out, she had put on her one and only cocktail dress, a silky sheath in midnight blue with matching high-heeled strappy sandals.
Needing little in the way of make-up, she had applied a light foundation and a touch of lip gloss, taken her hair up into an elegant chignon and fastened pearl drops to her small lobes.
As she opened the door she wondered if he would approve. She very much hoped so.
His gaze travelled over her slowly and appreciatively. Now she had shed the formal business suit, he could see that, as well as a lovely face, this woman had a stunning figure.
Seeing the open admiration in his eyes Caris was satisfied that he liked what he saw.
Knowing now how attractive he was, she had thought herself prepared, and hadn’t expected to be bowled over by the sight of him. But, looking more handsome than ever in an immaculate dinner jacket and black tie, he made her heart lurch crazily.
Taking a deep breath, she invited, ‘If you’d like to come in for a moment, Mr Devereux …?’
‘Won’t you call me Zander? Everyone else does.’
‘Zander?’ she echoed uncertainly.
‘A mistake on my birth certificate,’ he explained with a twinkle in his eye. ‘My parents had intended to call me Alexander, but somehow Zander went down and the name stuck.’
Following her into the light, pleasantly furnished living-room, he remarked with a smile, ‘A nice place. Do you live here alone?’
‘No, I share. But Mitch is on vacation in Rome and won’t be back for another week.’
‘Mitch?’
‘Diana Mitchell, but everyone calls her Mitch.’
Then, recalling the time, Caris added hastily, ‘I’m all ready. I just need pick up my jacket and bag.’
‘It’s a pleasure to find a woman who’s prompt as well as beautiful.’
His words sent a little thrill of excitement running through her. But, knowing it was necessary to keep her feet firmly on the ground, she observed practically, ‘I need to be prompt. I’m hoping to be back here in time to put my luggage in the car and get down to Catona this side of midnight.’
Glancing at the waiting case and holdall, he asked thoughtfully, ‘Will you be doing much driving while you’re there?’
She shook her head. ‘None at all, I imagine. First thing tomorrow morning, Sam and I will be joining a small group of hikers who’ll be doing a five-day trek along the Rowton Way. But I need my car to get to Catona and back.’
‘If that’s all, I’ve a suggestion to make. The restaurant I’m planning to take you to is well on the way to Catona.’
Feeling suddenly breathless, she waited, wondering what was coming.
‘So, if we take your luggage with us, after we’ve eaten instead of bringing you back here I could drive you down to your friend’s. That would save a good deal of time.’
‘Oh, but …’
‘It would give us the chance to be together longer and have a more leisurely meal.’
The chance to be together longer …
Her heart doing strange things, she pointed out, ‘But then I wouldn’t have a car to get back.’
‘My house is only about twelve miles from Catona, so if you let me know when your vacation’s over I could quite easily pick you up.’
‘I couldn’t possibly put you to all that trouble,’ she protested.
‘It’s no trouble. If it had been I wouldn’t have suggested it.’ Briskly, he added, ‘Is this all the luggage you have?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is there anything else you need to do before we go?’
Common sense told her she ought to dig her toes in and refuse to be hustled but, looking into those green eyes, she was lost.
‘Nothing else,’ she answered.
He put her jacket around her shoulders and handed her her bag, before picking up her case and holdall. ‘Then let’s get started.’
Feeling as if she was being swept along by a prairie wind, Caris allowed herself to be escorted out to a sleek silver sports car that waited by the kerb.
When her luggage had been stowed in the back and she had been helped into the passenger seat, Zander slid behind the wheel. ‘All set?’
She nodded.
The engine purred like a satisfied cat; they traversed the quiet square and joined the busy evening stream of traffic.
Some five minutes later they had left the outskirts of the city behind them and were heading roughly south-west.
Seeing the wooded peaks of the Catskills in the distance, she asked, ‘Where exactly are we going?’
‘The restaurant is called Le Jardin Romarin. It’s rather a special place, and they have an excellent French chef.’
‘How far is it?’
‘Not too far. It’s near the mountains, on the outskirts of a pretty little village called Bright Angel Falls.’
‘Oh, we once drove through Bright Angel Falls!’