Bedded at the Billionaire's Convenience(10)

Pierre’s voice interrupted her inspection and she guiltily looked up to find him back in the doorway waiting for her.

‘Sorry.’

‘Really? Somehow I find that a little hard to believe.’ And this time he waited for her, stepping aside so that she could precede him three steps down into a dining area and then beyond that into the kitchen which was big enough to house a table along with all the usual culinary paraphernalia.

‘You notice that I didn’t mention anything about that nonsense you were spouting in the café…’ he turned to her, a mug in his hand ‘…because I wanted to give you time to consider very carefully what an impossibly stupid idea it was. I also didn’t want you to somehow get it into your head that I would take it seriously on any level whatsoever, because I won’t. However…’ he filled the kettle and switched it on ‘…if you tell me that my mother is acting out of character, then I need to know about it, even if I don’t necessarily agree with what you’re saying. So…’ he dragged one of the chairs from under the table and sat down, hooking his foot under another, which he proceeded to use as a footrest ‘…I’m listening. Make the most of it.’

‘You mean my time starts now?’

‘You said it.’ Pierre folded his arms and gave her the benefit of his undivided attention.

‘This wasn’t how I envisaged having this conversation,’ Georgie said, heading for the kettle because it was obvious that he had given up on the coffee-making idea. Sure enough she didn’t see him rushing over to relieve her of the task of making her own drink. She opened her mouth to ask him where she could locate the coffee and heard herself ask him whether she could pour herself a glass of wine.

Pierre’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘Dutch courage, Georgie?’

‘What do you expect? You haven’t exactly been welcoming.’

‘What did you think I would do?’ He stood up, strolled over to the matt silver fridge and pulled out a bottle of Chablis, then poured them both a glass. ‘Hear you out and then jump up and down with glee at your hare brained scheme?’

‘Well, hearing me out would have been a start.’ The wine was delicious, very cold and very dry, and Georgie took a long mouthful before looking at him.

‘So I’m hearing you out now. You tell me my mother isn’t herself. Well, why don’t you let me decide that for myself?’

‘You mean you’ll visit her?’#p#分页标题#e##p#分页标题#e#

‘I mean I’ll give her a call and ask her what this is all about.’

‘And suddenly she’ll pour her heart out to you! Down the end of a telephone!’

‘Why not?’

‘Because that’s not how people work, Pierre! Least of all your mother. You know how proud she is and also…’

‘Also?’

‘She’s in awe of you.’

Pierre flushed darkly at what seemed to be a criticism thinly disguised as a compliment of sorts. He drank the contents of his wine glass in one long mouthful and frowned. ‘Explain.’

‘I mean she would probably hate for you to think that she was being weak.’

‘This conversation is going nowhere and I have to get changed.’

Georgie hastily drank her wine, determined to finish what she had travelled hours to say even if he intended on being stunningly unhelpful. He gave no indication that he was aware of her following him although when she paused at the doorway to his bedroom, he said, without bothering to turn around, ‘Not going to advance any further, Georgie?’

Georgie opened her mouth and then, like a stranded goldfish, gulped noiselessly as he began to strip off, starting with his sweatshirt, which he pulled over his head in one smooth gesture. He still hadn’t turned in her direction and she stared with crawling fascination at the beautiful muscularity of his body. He was a physically perfect specimen, with the golden olive complexion inherited from his mother.

When he finally did turn round, their eyes collided and Georgie looked away quickly, her face bright red. She went even redder as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his jogging bottoms and tugged them lightly.

‘You’re welcome to look if you want to,’ he said and she made a strangled sound, which finally evolved into something coherent.

‘Perhaps I should wait until you’re finished having your shower.’

‘Feel free, but I’ll be on my way out and, unless you want to accompany me on a date, then I suggest you get on with saying what you want to say here.’

‘I…I wouldn’t want to embarrass you…’