A Suspicious Proposal. HELEN BROOKS
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tell him in the first few seconds what you’ve done, turn it into a joke against yourself somehow, and you’ll have him eating out of your hand. He’s crazy about you; he fancies you like mad.’
‘He fancies Janice Beaver, actually,’ Essie said, with a weak smile.
‘A rose by any other name…’ Janice grinned at her before she said again, urgently this time, ‘Tell him, Essie, right off. That way you can start again, and who knows what might come of it?’
‘I don’t want anything to come of it.’
‘No?’ Janice’s tone was sceptical.
‘No. I mean it.’ Essie turned to look Janice full in the face now, and something in her eyes made Janice’s gaze narrow. ‘The last thing I want to do is to get involved in a relationship, Janice. There was someone at university… Well, I got my fingers badly burned, that’s all, and I prefer the odd light date with no strings attached now. My career is my life and I intend to keep it that way.’
‘You sound a perfect match for Xavier, if you ask me.’ Janice looked into the ethereally beautiful face that was quite strikingly lovely for a few moments before she murmured, ‘Yes, the perfect match.’
CHAPTER TWO
ESSIE felt ridiculously like an escaped convict on the run or some other kind of ne’er-do-well as she skulked back into the Blue Baron half an hour after Xavier had left the wedding reception, keeping an eye out for a tall dark Canadian as she did so.
She had grilled Janice on all the other girl knew about Xavier Grey before she had said goodbye, but had learnt little more than Janice had already told her. Christine’s cousin had said that Xavier’s branch of Charlie’s family had moved out to Canada before Xavier was born, but apparently Xavier had business links in England. And he was a self-made man; Janice had been quite emphatic on that point. A rags-to-riches story, by all accounts, she’d told Essie quietly, although her aunt June—the fount of all knowledge—hadn’t had any details.
Once in her hotel room, Essie sank down onto the bed, throwing herself back against the pillows as she contemplated the evening ahead with a groan.
At least she didn’t have to consider what she was going to wear, she thought ruefully. She had only brought a pair of jeans and jumper, a casual day dress and one cocktail number with her, knowing she was only staying overnight. And the first two options were definitely not suitable for a date with Xavier Grey! She groaned again, rolling over onto her face and burying her head in the pillows.
She’d been looking forward to a nice relaxed evening in her room, courtesy of room service and the TV—the train journey up from Sussex had meant an excruciatingly early start, to arrive at Christine’s parents’ home mid-morning—and now, due to her own foolishness, she admitted reluctantly, she was committed to an encounter that would be neither nice nor relaxed! She didn’t dare to consider Xavier’s reaction when she told him who she really was.
Still, she wasn’t sorry. She jerked herself upright, walked over to the full-length mirror in one corner of the room and looked at the reflection that stared out at her. The deep blue eyes were stormy and her soft, full mouth was pulled tight, and now she threw back the mass of gold curls that had escaped the knot she had bundled them into on leaving the wedding reception, and surveyed herself critically.
Okay, so she was slender and not particularly tall, and her colouring and physical appearance might not be the most robust for a veterinary surgeon, but she was damn good at her job—as she was proving every day at the small practice in Sussex where she worked. Brute strength wasn’t everything. She scowled at the image in the mirror. And even if the majority of the practice’s cases were domestic there were still some occasions when the animals were pretty ferocious, like that Great Dane a few weeks ago that had objected to being examined. The owner had all but disappeared and she had been left facing a gigantic pair of jaws that stated quite clearly its anal glands were its own concern.
She smiled at the memory, in spite of herself. She was fond of Monty and normally the massive Great Dane was putty in her hands, but he had suffered a number of undignified examinations in quick succession due to his problem and, that particular day, he had decided he had to assert himself.
Still, she’d rather take on ten Montys than one Xavier Grey. The thought dimmed her smile and straightened her mouth again.
A bath. She needed a few relaxed moments in a hot bath. She glanced at her watch and saw she had another forty-five minutes before zero hour. And after her bath she’d moisturise and paint and titivate herself and try to work up some sort of courage for the night ahead.
At exactly half-past eight, when Essie walked out of the lift into the reception area of the Blue Baron, she looked every inch the elegant, sophisticated woman of the world and not at all like the young, girlish bridesmaid she had seemed earlier.
The reasons for this were manifold—one, the delicate, up-swept hairstyle that confined her curls in an exquisite arrangement at the back of her head, allowing the long sweep of her neck its true grace. Two, her careful make-up, tasteful and refined, that enhanced the allure of her deep blue eyes and creamy clear skin. Three, the savoir-faire of her chic cocktail dress in midnight-blue silk with matching jacket—bought at a Sussex clothes shop which specialised in couturier, nearly-new clothes at a fraction of the original price. Four, her determination that she was going to match Xavier Grey every inch of the way tonight and leave, if not in a blaze of glory, then at least with her head held high.
And there were more reasons, some of which Essie was only faintly aware of herself, that were steeling her backbone and putting iron resolve in her spirit.
She had thought the fact that she emerged from the lift inside the hotel would preclude any further misunderstanding between them as to her identity, and that might well have been the case if Xavier hadn’t been deep in conversation with one of the hotel reception staff and missed her appearance.
As it was, he raised his head just in time to see her almost at his side, and she caught the flash of surprise in the silver-blue eyes just before he said, ‘Janice, I’m so pleased you could come. Our table is booked for nine but perhaps you would care for a cocktail first?’
A cocktail—the giddy empty-head was being allowed a cocktail, was she? ‘Thank you.’ She was all coolness and aplomb tonight and she knew it had thrown him. ‘That would be lovely.’
He led her into the hotel cocktail lounge with his hand at her elbow, and she tried not to think about how delicious he had looked in that first moment she had seen him. He had dressed up, as had she, and the black dinner suit and snowy-white shirt and bow-tie had made her heart pound. It was still pounding. It didn’t seem as if it would ever stop pounding.
‘What would you like?’
As she perched elegantly on one of the bar stools, she allowed a full ten seconds to pass by before she glanced his way, and then her voice was serene and self-possessed when she said, ‘Oh, a gin sling I think.’
‘A good choice; I’ll join you.’
Once he had given the order to the bartender—a Tom Cruise look-alike—Xavier turned the full intensity of his ice-blue gaze on her as he said, his voice thoughtful, ‘You look different tonight, Janice. Older, more…cosmopolitan.’
‘Do I?’ She arched her eyebrows at him but there was going to be no batting of eyelashes tonight. Tonight she was going to be every inch the twenty-eight-year-old, career-minded, strong woman she really was! ‘Well, I’ve never thought first impressions were the best to go by, Xavier.’ She smiled coolly. ‘They can be so misleading, don’t you think?’
‘On occasion.’ The narrowed gaze eyed her contemplatively.
Did he know how it made him look when he half shut his eyes like that? Essie asked herself silently. His maleness was emphasised a hundred times, bringing a rawness to his attractiveness that was a killer. But of course he knew! She answered the unspoken question in the next breath, her thoughts astringent. It was