she chose to follow the same reckless path, driven by an inner, irresistible need. Life was for living. With a man like Vidal, the experience could only be good.
The suite was sumptuous, the food superbly prepared, the conversation scintillating. They ate out on the balcony, finishing off the meal with brandies.
Feeling positively euphoric, Leonie got up and went to the balustrade to look out over the sparkling panorama. ‘“When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life”,’ she quoted softly.
‘Samuel Johnson knew a very different London, I think,’ Vidal observed. He was at her back, hands sliding about her waist to draw her closer, lips parting the hair at her nape to nuzzle the tender skin. ‘The night is beautiful, but you surpass it,’ he murmured. ‘Eu quero, meu querido!’
Leonie had taken off her jacket earlier. The thin blouse she was wearing beneath offered little defence against the hands now sliding up to cup her breasts. She felt her nipples peak beneath the gentle caressing motion of his thumbs, a shudder run the whole length of her body. A core of heat rose from some central spot, radiating outwards to encompass her whole being. She felt as if she were floating, her legs too weak to support her.
Vidal turned her towards him, face dark but for the glitter in his eyes as he bent his head to find her lips. The kiss was a revelation, drawing an instant and overwhelming response. She could feel his heat, the burgeoning hardness against her thighs. He’d removed his jacket too. The fine silk of his shirt moulded to the muscularity beneath, emphasising every masculine line.
‘Come,’ he said softly.
It was only then, as he took her hand to lead her back indoors, that she began to come to her senses. This was nothing new to him. Nothing special, the way it was for her. She was just another easy lay—another notch on his bedpost.
He turned his head to view her in some surprise as she pulled sharply free of him. ‘Is there something wrong?’ he asked
‘I’m no one-night-stand!’ she jerked out
Dark brows drew together. ‘Is that how you believe I see you?’
‘Well, isn’t it?’ she challenged. ‘You had this in mind from the first, didn’t you?’
‘I was under the impression that we both of us knew where we were heading,’ he returned levelly. ‘You gave me no cause to doubt it up until now.’
Leonie felt the warmth run up under skin. She sought refuge from the truth in anger. ‘You take too much for granted! I accepted an invitation to dinner. I didn’t realise I’d be called on to pay for it in kind.’
Vidal viewed her in silence for a moment or two, a deep down spark in his eyes the only indication of emotion. ‘I apologise for the error,’ he said at last. ‘I thought you a woman of the world.’
She’d gone out of her way to give that impression, Leonie had to admit. Anger gave way to shame for a moment. The fault was more hers than his.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said thickly. ‘I got a little carried away. I’m not in the habit of it, believe me.’
The expression that crossed the sculpted features was difficult to define. ‘You were right,’ he said. ‘I do take far too much for granted. Perhaps we might begin again?’
Leonie shook her head, ousting temptation before it could swamp her. ‘I really don’t see any point. We come from different worlds. I’ll stick to my own in future.’
‘Your choice, of course.’ Vidal indicated the open glass doors, face impassive now. ‘I’ll order you a taxi.’
Leonie went ahead of him back into the room, steeling herself to stay in control as she watched him pick up the telephone.
‘It will be waiting for you,’ he said, replacing the receiver. ‘Charged to my account.’
No doubt an arrangement of long standing, she thought. ‘I can pay for my own transport,’ she declared stiffly.
He inclined his head. ‘You must naturally do as you see fit.’
He came over to pick up the jacket she’d tossed over a chair-back before dinner, holding it out for her to slide her arms into. She did so as smoothly and swiftly as possible, vitally aware of his closeness, and of her hammering pulses. If she’d carried on the act a little longer they would have been in bed by now, with the question of right or wrong purely academic. It took everything she had to restrain the urge to throw caution aside.
Vidal saw her to the suite’s outer door. It was still impossible to read anything in the dark eyes as she met them for the final time.
‘It was an enjoyable day,’ he said.
‘But a disappointing night,’ she responded, determined not to give way to any last-minute wavering.
The smile was unexpected. ‘No matter. Sleep well, namorado.’
What the last meant, Leonie had no idea. Nor did she care to ask. She heard the door close as she made for the lifts.
Crossing the hotel lobby was an ordeal in itself. She was certain that the receptionists on duty were watching her every step. The taxi was waiting, as promised. She gave the address and slid inside, grateful for the closed glass partition precluding any conversation. It was going to be a costly ride all the way out to Northwood, but she had no intention of crying off from paying—even if it did probably mean that the driver would gain double fare.
It was close on midnight when she reached home. As anticipated, her offer of the metered charge wasn’t rejected. Her father came out from the study as she let herself in, his expression only too easy to read.
‘You didn’t go back to your office this afternoon,’ he said.
Leonie donned a smile, a light tone. ‘No. Vidal fancied a trip on the river. We had dinner together too.’
‘Just dinner?’
‘Just dinner,’ she assured him, smothering any resentment at the catechism. ‘He’s been the perfect gentleman.’
Stuart looked relieved. ‘Good. It isn’t that I don’t trust you to keep a steady head,’ he hastened to add. ‘I was just a little concerned that he might attempt to take advantage, that’s all.’
‘Well, he didn’t.’ She could say that with truth, considering the way he’d accepted the rejection. A first for him too, she didn’t doubt. ‘I’m going straight up,’ she declared, stifling a spurious yawn.
‘I’ll be up myself in a few minutes,’ Stuart returned.
Leonie kissed his cheek in passing, mounting the stairs feeling anything but happy. She’d probably turned down the experience of her life tonight, and for what? Hanging fire for Mr Right was all very well in theory, but what if he never turned up?
She spent a restless night, rising to a day that held little sparkle. The more she thought about the previous night, the more gauche she felt. She’d acted like some naïve teenager rather than a grown woman. Vidal must consider her totally immature.
Was it too late, she wondered, to contact him and apologise for giving the wrong impression? She had no idea what his itinerary was, but he’d still be in his suite at this hour. She wanted desperately to see him again. He was like no other man she had ever met. So what if he did have a reputation? At thirty-three, and single, he was hardly going to live like a monk. They’d been so well attuned until she’d come over all moral. Given the opportunity, the relationship might even have developed into something worthwhile.
She was still grappling with the temptation when she went down to breakfast. Her father was reading the morning newspaper.
‘I think you should see this,’ he said, handing a sheet over as she took her seat at the table. ‘Just in case there’s any doubt remaining.’
The photograph leapt out at her: Vidal, resplendent in evening dress, alongside a