tomorrow he would go on his way—alone.
‘SO WHAT are you doing in England? You don’t look like a tourist and you said you’d planned on meeting someone from work. A business meeting?’
Gio nodded slowly, dark eyes shadowed in the candlelight.
‘I’m a lawyer—and we were to discuss how the case went in court today. A post-mortem if you like.’
‘And how did the case go?’
‘We won.’ It was said with total calm; no hint of any false modesty.
Of course he’d won. Gio didn’t look as if he had ever known failure or defeat in his life.
A faint touch of wary apprehension slid coldly down her spine just at the thought. She wouldn’t like to come up against Giovanni Cardella in court. He would have to be counsel for the prosecution, and she just knew that his approach would be deadly, his questions swift and lethal as a cobra’s strike. In fact she wouldn’t want to come up against Gio in any situation. He would be a formidable opponent, whatever the circumstances.
‘Was it an—an important case?’
She stumbled over the question because her treacherous mind chose just that moment to throw at her the image of another, totally different way she could possibly be against Gio. For a few, feverish seconds, her imagination ran riot at the thought of how it might feel to be held close to that lean, hard body, crushed against the wall of his chest in the grip of those powerful arms that the sleek tailoring of his jacket did nothing to disguise.
‘Important enough. International fraud—a man who’s been making millions… What are you smiling at?’
‘Nothing—I mean—I didn’t know I was…’
The pictures her wayward thoughts had been conjuring up of the way the devastating man opposite her might look with the sophisticated elegance of the jacket and shirt stripped away vanished in a second as the bubble of her fantasy was popped by his probing question. For a moment her hands wavered uncertainly in front of her face while she struggled with the temptation to cover her burning cheeks and hide behind them, away from his searching gaze. But then she forced them down again, reaching instead for her wine glass and taking a much-needed restorative sip.
‘If you must know I was feeling like Cinderella at the ball. I mean—all this…’
The hand that held her glass waved rather wildly as she used it to indicate her luxurious surroundings, the heavy linen tablecloths, the silverware and crystal glasses, the immaculately uniformed waiters, their footsteps hushed on the thick, rich pile of the red and gold carpet.
‘It’s hardly how I was expecting to spend my evening.’
A sudden memory slid into her mind. The image of Claire and Anna, just emerging from the doors of the conference room, their mouths agape and a look of total consternation and disbelief on their faces as they had seen her crossing the foyer with Gio at her side. By rights she should be with them now, sharing the cold buffet, thinking about packing, about leaving tomorrow morning.
She could only pray that Gio hadn’t seen them too. That he hadn’t caught the way they’d stopped dead, giggled, nudged each other, and then, most embarrassingly of all, given her a blatant ‘thumbs up’ sign of approval.
‘I was thinking that if I pinched myself I might suddenly wake up and find it was all a dream.’
‘And that I had turned into a pumpkin, hmm? Isn’t that how the story goes?’
‘Oh, no. Not at all! Prince Charming wasn’t transformed into anything. He stayed a prince all the way through.’
‘And is that how you see me?’ His tone was casual enough but there was an unexpected light in his eyes, one that made every tiny hair on the back of her neck suddenly lift in nervous apprehension. ‘Am I truly Prince Charming?’
Was he? Was he really the person he seemed? The delightful, easy-going dinner companion, the man who was politeness personified. Who had told her to order whatever she wanted from the menu, who made sure that her every need was attended to—her meal served, her glass filled, her plate cleared, even before she had realised that she wanted anything herself. Was this the real Giovanni Cardella or was there another side to him? What about the man who appeared in court?
‘You certainly can be charming when you choose,’ she said carefully.
‘Choose?’
‘Well—I get the feeling that you’ve deliberately set out to be this way. That you mean to be nice to me. That you—’
‘And why would I not?’ Gio cut in with a touch of sharpness. ‘You are a woman—and a beautiful one at that. Wouldn’t any man want to treat you like this? Wouldn’t any sane male want to “charm” you, to please you? To see you smile?’
‘I have to admit that it’s not exactly what I’m used to,’ Terrie murmured, totally thrown off balance by that softly emphasised ‘beautiful’. ‘The men that I’ve dated haven’t had your…flair—your skill—at this. Or the money to bring me here, for that matter.’
‘And the money is important?’
Gio recognised his mistake as soon as the words were out. Those soft grey eyes flew to his face, narrowing sharply as she caught the note of cynicism in his voice. So the lady didn’t want the truth being stated too openly? Well, he could go along with that. Part of his attraction for her might be that he obviously had the wealth to give her a good time, but she clearly preferred to pretend that it went deeper than that.
‘I’m not—’ Terrie began indignantly.
‘You’re the one who described yourself as Cinderella at the ball,’ Gio pointed out with calm reasonableness. ‘I got the impression that you weren’t used to being in a place like this. Was I wrong?’
‘Well—no…’ Terrie was forced to admit. ‘I don’t normally end up in posh restaurants—or hotels for that matter. It’s only because I was at this conference and the company’s paying that I’m here at all.’
‘The company that you have now decided you no longer want to work for?’
‘The same.’ Terrie nodded, her expression rueful. ‘So I expect that this will be my one and only taste of such luxury for a long, long time. I can’t expect fairy godfathers to come along every day of the week, can I?’
She looked deep into his eyes as she spoke, her lavender-coloured gaze wide and intent above the soft, full mouth. Watching her, Gio felt desire give him such a hard, demanding kick that he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
‘A moment ago I was Prince Charming, now you’ve cast me in the role of Fairy Godfather.’
Or she’d like to put him in that role. Well, if a long-term sugar daddy was what she was after then she was doomed to disappointment.
‘Perhaps you’re both?’
Though of course there was no way that the ‘Fairy’ part of the description fitted, Terrie reflected, her whole body tingling in sensual awareness of the strength and power of the hard masculine body seated opposite her. One lean brown hand rested on the starched tablecloth, the tanned skin standing out sharply against the crisp white damask, and, having dropped her gaze to it for a moment, she suddenly found herself unable to drag her eyes or her thoughts away again.
What would it feel like to have those long, strong fingers caress her skin? How would his touch move over her sensitive flesh? Would it be soft and tantalising or hard and demanding? Every female instinct told her that he was a man who would know how to love a woman. How to arouse her, to stir her senses until she was barely conscious with longing, to set her whole body