To Tame the Playboy. Kate Hardy
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no need to prolong the experience by going on and on about it. She decided to change the subject. ‘So, you have meetings today,’ she said, biting into her slice of toast. ‘Do you expect to have lengthy discussions?’
‘Oh, I shouldn’t be too long,’ he said, ‘but it’s always hard to tell. I fully expect to be able to pick you up in time for some lunch.’ He picked up his mug. ‘We’ve got some literature hanging about somewhere, about Truro—I know there’s plenty to keep you interested there while I’m gone.’ He glanced over to her as he drank his coffee. He couldn’t believe that their physical encounter last night was being totally disregarded today. As if it had never happened. When anything so stirringly emotional as that had taken place, it was usual for those involved to acknowledge that it had happened—by a word or a gesture. But…that was good, wasn’t it? he asked himself. It fitted in with his plans exactly as he wanted it to. He wanted to forget the feel of Fleur’s body enveloped in his. Wanted to forget the tide of feeling which had hit him with the force of a tsunami as he’d claimed her sweet, moist lips. And she was clearly of the same mind because the emotional distance between them now was vast—and obvious. It was clearly going to be the host/guest relationship from now on. So—that was good…wasn’t it?
‘Yes, I noticed the leaflets about Truro on the table in the hall,’ she said, ‘and, from what I could see, I don’t expect to have time to fit it all in. Quite apart from visiting the cathedral and the museum—and all the shops, of course—I just like wandering around places I don’t know, walking along the alleys and side streets, getting a feel of how a place ticks. I even like peeping in at people’s windows,’ she admitted. She smiled across at him quickly. ‘So please don’t give me a thought, or worry that I may be at a loose end. I assure you, I shan’t be.’
‘OK, that’s fine,’ he said casually. ‘But I’ll ring you on your mobile as soon as the meeting’s over, and come and pick you up, wherever you happen to be.’ He paused. ‘There are plenty of coffee houses for you to refresh yourself, but we’ll have some lunch at a rather special place later.’ He threw her a glance. ‘Mia instructed me on the phone that I must take you there, so I’d better do as she says.’
Fleur stirred some cream into her coffee thoughtfully for a moment. ‘You don’t have to do that, Sebastian—really you don’t. Why waste any more time in Truro?’ She hoped she wasn’t sounding offhand or ungrateful, but it still rankled with her that Mia had more or less put him in a corner, to ‘look after’ her. She was quite all right on her own—as she’d tried to convince him before.
‘Oh, we might as well have lunch before we head back,’ he said casually. ‘I’ll be hungry, even if you aren’t. And, by the way,’ he added, ‘Pat rang earlier—her mother’s much better, apparently, so she’ll be back to take up the reins again tonight.’ He paused. ‘I did tell her that we were managing OK on our own, but she’s very possessive of her position here, and I didn’t want to make her feel unnecessary, or unwanted…so I didn’t try and persuade her to stay at their cottage for a bit longer. Anyway, that means you won’t be on supper duty tonight.’
Fleur looked across at him as he spoke. Despite his overtly purposeful nature, and undoubtedly rather imperious streak at times, he was always thoughtful. Even if on their very first encounter he’d made her feel as small as a five penny piece. But she must forget that, she told herself. First impressions, though often valid, did not tell the whole story. As had been proved!
She suddenly remembered the dog. ‘Where’s Benson?’ she asked.
‘Oh, Frank’s got him.’ Sebastian poured himself another coffee. ‘And then Pat’ll be here later on.’
Soon they were ready to leave and, going outside, Fleur saw that Sebastian had brought his car around to the front door. It was the latest BMW model, a hazy, sensuous blue-grey, and she smiled up at him as he opened the passenger door for her. ‘This is…rather…beautiful,’ she said. ‘A slightly more elevated specimen than my own car,’ she added. She’d not seen her car since arriving—Sebastian had parked it for her in the garages, which were obviously around the back somewhere.
‘Your car is a very sensible size,’ he said, ‘especially if you don’t need to use the motorways too much. Perfect for London.’
For only the second time since she’d been here, the sun started to break warily through the grey skies and, as Sebastian drove smoothly along the drive, Fleur’s spirits rose with every turn of the wheels. She loved a day out, to go somewhere different, and in spite of her misgivings about Sebastian—as well as her own deep-seated feelings—being with this outstandingly-good looking, elegant man certainly put the icing on the cake! She gave him a sidelong glance. He was dressed formally in a sharp suit, plain shirt and knotted tie—the perfect picture of British masculinity, she thought. And his rugged profile, hinting at just an element of harshness, seemed to confirm her view of him as possessing a many-layered personality. Then she amended her thoughts slightly. No, not harsh, she decided…just faintly mysterious, as though no human being would ever be able to reach the real man, to get to the very heart and soul of him. She turned to look steadily ahead.
It took less than an hour to get to Truro and, after they’d exchanged mobile numbers, Sebastian pulled into the car park of the offices he was visiting. ‘As soon as I’m done,’ he said, glancing across at her, ‘I’ll ring and come and find you.’ He smiled slowly at her as she got out. ‘Have fun,’ he murmured.
* * *
For the next hour or so, Fleur strolled through the streets, lapping up the atmosphere of the ancient city. Even in early January, there were plenty of tourists about. She soon came upon the County District Offices, and the new Crown Courts, wondering idly whether Sebastian had ever had to flex his professional muscles there. But it was the cathedral that dominated the city centre as it gazed down authoritatively on the Georgian streets that meandered and weaved their way through the city.
Wandering on she came to the two covered markets which were thriving and busy as they set out to encourage early shoppers, but it was Lemon Quay’s Creation Centre that Fleur knew would absorb her interest. It was a fascinating arcade, housing specialist shops which were calling out to be explored. This was a holiday experience she certainly hadn’t known she’d be enjoying—spending time at the shops! With her head on one side thoughtfully, she assessed the well-dressed windows, wondering whether to buy anything. She seldom shopped much in London, not unless she really needed something, so just wandering about and not having to worry about what time it was added to her sense of freedom and well-being.
In the end, she bought a dainty silver bracelet to take back to her mother, and some unusual embossed notepaper for herself, then decided that she would get something for Pat and Beryl as well. But what? she wondered. She didn’t know either woman well enough to know their tastes. She’d have to go on thinking, and hope for inspiration.
She stopped for a few minutes for coffee in one of the small restaurants before deciding to go into the cathedral. Although she knew it to be one of the newest in the country—work only starting on it in 1880—that did not detract from its powerful grandeur or sense of history, its towers and spires dominating everything around it.
Just before she decided to go in, her mobile rang. ‘I’m finished here,’ Sebastian said. ‘Where are you?’
‘About to go into the cathedral.’
‘OK. I’ll come in and find you.’
As soon as she set foot inside, Fleur was struck by how large and wide it was, its slender pillars and tiers of pointed arches automatically making her look upwards to the vaulted roof. There were other visitors looking around too, and presently Fleur trod quietly along the nave, musing at how many sacred buildings like this there must be around the world, places of sanctuary and worship. And, for a reason she couldn’t explain, a huge lump formed in her throat. But it was the sudden magical music from the organ as it spilled out and filled every corner of the building with its awesome sound that took Fleur’s breath right away. That majestic instrument of praise echoed and re-echoed around, so that every single stone and pillar might hear