Taken by the Millionaire: Hotly Bedded, Conveniently Wedded. Kate Hardy
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As if she would. She smiled, and carried on with the report she was writing.
A few moments later, her monitor beeped again.
Doing anything tonight?
Nothing special. Why?
It was a while before he responded. And then:
Consider your evening annexed. Meet you from work. What time do you finish today?
Six. Do I need to change first?
If you’re dressed as Flavia, yes! Otherwise, fine as you are. Ciao. A x
Which told her absolutely nothing about what he had planned. Typical Alex.
But she was busy and it was easier to go along with him, so she didn’t push the issue.
He was waiting for her in the foyer at six, wearing a casual shirt and dark trousers and looking absolutely edible. For a moment, her heart actually skipped a beat.
But this wasn’t a date. This was just two friends meeting up while one of them was briefly in London. The fact that he was staying with her was by the by. They weren’t living together and it wasn’t that kind of relationship.
And that marriage proposal hadn’t been a real one. She really needed to get a grip.
‘Hi.’ His smile did seriously strange things to her insides, and she strove for cool.
‘Hi, yourself. Good day?’
‘Not bad.’ He slid a casual arm round her shoulders and ushered her down the steps. ‘How was yours?’
‘Fine.’ She was glad her voice wasn’t as shaky as she felt. This was crazy. She and Alex had always had a tactile relationship. So how come this didn’t feel like his usual hug?
‘Good. You hungry?’
She grinned. ‘Considering I’ve been eating chocolate all day…’
‘What, and you didn’t even save one for me?’
She laughed. ‘No. But I did share them in the office.’
‘Hmm. So was that a yes or no to food first?’
‘Food before what?’
‘Before …’ He took his arm from her shoulders, fished in his pocket for his wallet, then removed two tickets and handed them to her.
She felt her eyes widen. Two tickets to that evening’s performance of Much Ado about Nothing at the Globe. The best seats in the house. ‘These are like gold dust, Alex!’ And to get them at short notice he must’ve paid a fortune to one of the ticket agencies.
‘I wanted to see the play, and it’s more fun going with someone who actually enjoys it, too.’
‘At least let me pay for my own ticket.’
‘No. But you can buy me a drink in the interval, if you insist.’
‘I do insist.’
‘“My dear Lady Disdain,”‘ he teased.
‘I did that play for A level,’ she reminded him.
‘I know.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I used to have to listen to you and Saskia murdering it in the summer house when I was home in the holidays.’
‘Murdering it?’ She cuffed his arm. ‘I’ll tell her that, next time I talk to her. And then you’ll be in trouble.’
‘No, I won’t. I’m her favourite brother.’
‘Her only brother,’ Isobel corrected.
‘Still her favourite,’ Alex said. ‘So. Food first or later?’
She glanced at her watch and at the time on the ticket. ‘Better make it later. Unless you want to grab something from a fast-food place?’
‘I’d rather wait and have something decent.’
‘Later it is, then.’
The tube was so crowded again that they didn’t get a chance to talk on the way over to Southwark. And the bar at the Globe was so crowded that they were forced to sit incredibly close together to have any chance of hearing each other speak.
Odd.
Alex was used to touching Isobel—giving her a hug hello and a kiss on the cheek when they said goodbye—but this was different. Now, he was aware of her in another way. Of the softness of her skin. Of the sweet scent of her perfume—a mixture of jasmine and vanilla and orange blossom. Of the shape of her mouth.
And it shocked him how much he suddenly wanted to kiss her.
‘Alex?’
‘Sorry. It’s a bit noisy in here. I can barely hear you.’ Acting on an impulse he knew was going to land him in trouble, but he was unable to resist, he scooped her onto his lap.
‘Alex!’
She was protesting—but she slid one arm round his neck to stop herself falling off his lap.
‘It’s easier to hear you if you talk straight into my ear,’ he said, his mouth millimetres from her own ear. ‘That way you don’t have to shout. And I don’t get backache from leaning down to you.’
She cuffed him with her free hand. ‘That’s below the belt.’
And maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. Because the whisper of her breath against his ear sent a peculiar sensation down his spine. A feeling he really didn’t want to acknowledge.
He took refuge in teasing. ‘I apologise … Shorty.’
‘Huh.’ She rolled her eyes.
He knew she wasn’t upset with him; this was the kind of banter they’d always indulged in. The kind of banter that was safe because their friendship was deep and it had been practically lifelong.
When she’d finished her glass of wine, he glanced at his watch. ‘We’d better find our seats.’
‘Sure.’ She slid off his lap, and Alex was shocked to discover he actually missed the warmth of her body against his.
The production was fantastic. And as soon as Benedick spoke his ‘dear Lady Disdain’ line, Alex glanced at Isobel—to see her glancing straight back at him. He curled his fingers round hers, acknowledging that he knew what she was remembering. To his pleasure, she didn’t pull away. But all the way through the play, when Beatrice and Benedick were fencing verbally, he found himself thinking of himself and Isobel.
‘I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not that strange?’
His fingers involuntarily tightened for a moment round hers.
This was crazy.
Of course he wasn’t in love with Isobel. She was his friend.
But it didn’t alter the fact that he was holding her hand. Treating this like a date, when it wasn’t one at all.
He needed to regain his composure.
But for the life of him he couldn’t let her hand go.
At the end of the play, he released her hand so they could clap. And his arm was only round her on the way out of the theatre so he could protect her from the crowds.
At dinner afterwards, they chatted animatedly about the play until their meal arrived.
‘Next time we’ll have to take Saskia as well,’ he said. ‘And Mum—if she’s up to it.’
‘How is she?’ Isobel asked.
‘You know my mother. She almost never admits to feeling under the weather.’ He sighed. ‘This lupus thing … I worry about her.’
Isobel