Bedded at the Billionaire's Convenience(48)

‘I wasn’t fishing,’ Georgie told him, reddening. She swung to open the door and he let her, rousing himself after a few seconds and following her.

‘I don’t care what you think of me!’ Georgie informed him as he pushed open the door and allowed her to sweep past him. In her wake, she left that clean, vaguely floral scent that he realised he now associated with her. The woman had bewitched him, with her ridiculous outfits and yapping personality and with supermarket perfume that filled his nostrils and left him wanting more.

Pierre didn’t know who he cared for less in this unwelcome scenario. Himself for being weak or her for just being her.

If he had slept with her, he knew that this would not now be posing a problem. He was a predator who enjoyed the chase as much as the capture. The fact that Georgie had eluded him had succeeded in doing the one thing no woman had done before—it had buried the thought of her deep inside him, taking away his ability to think clearly, making him a victim of his own basic desires.

From behind, as they were shown to their table his eyes lingered on the boyish swing of her hips and the slimness of her legs, for once not concealed underneath flowing, hippy layers. Her hair hung down her back and he wanted to reach out and grab it and pull her back into him, he wanted to crush her mouth with his and taste her surrender. In short, he wanted everything he had been denied.

The restaurant was buzzing, despite the bracing temperatures outside. He wondered how he could ever have summed the place up as a backwater with only limited accessibility to mod cons.

‘Shall we try again?’ he asked as soon as they were seated. ‘We’re here. We might as well behave as adults and enjoy the evening.’

Georgie looked at him warily. ‘You’re the one who seems keen to pick a fight with me.’

Pierre, in that instant, was faced with the unthinkable re-alisation that he would release his much-cherished pride and pursue this woman despite the knock-back. It was either that or be driven crazy from frustration.

He looked down and then straight at her. ‘You could be right,’ he agreed, and he was gratified to see her eyes widen in surprise. ‘I’ll be man enough to admit that you’ve got under my skin.’ He made no move to lean towards her or even to invest his words with any sense of urgency. Instead, he shrugged. ‘I can’t stop thinking of you.’ He let that indisputable truth drop like a stone into a pond and waited for the ripples to spread out. ‘In fact, you very nearly made me lose concentration at my meeting yesterday. Not good. A successful businessman doesn’t start talking about management buyouts only to end up staring out of the window because he’s completely lost his train of thought.’ Pierre spotted the waitress out of the corner of his eye and beckoned her over, although he remained looking at Georgie, even when he ordered them a bottle of white wine.

‘I…I don’t believe you…’

‘Why would I lie?’ The wine had arrived. He tasted it, watching her over the rim of his glass, and then nodded for the waitress to pour. ‘You haunt me,’ he told her casually. ‘I can even recognise your smell.’

‘D-don’t be silly,’ Georgie stammered, feeling suddenly exposed in her daring little outfit behind which she couldn’t conveniently hide. She quickly gulped down some wine, then a little more, until she realised that the glass was empty. Not for long.

‘And I did notice your outfit tonight, by the way…’

‘Did you?’ she squeaked.

‘How could I not? I bet that’s your one and only miniskirt.’

‘It’s…I…’#p#分页标题#e##p#分页标题#e#

He had thrown her into a state of confusion, which seemed only right considering that was the place she had so neatly managed to stick him. ‘Never mind that most girls your age have wardrobes of them. Still…you don’t have a problem looking utterly desirable in whatever you wear. How did you manage to get your hair to look like that?’

‘Straighteners,’ Georgie answered, flustered.

‘I prefer it curly, though. Curly hair suits your personality. But enough of all this. I don’t suppose you want to hear how I feel about you. Nothing worse than someone who continues the chase when the game is over…’ Pierre swirled his glass and stared at her, allowing his words to sink in. He might not be the sort of man much interested in laying his feelings on the line, but, with the instincts of someone highly attuned to female behaviour, he ruthlessly exploited that most dangerous of all emotions—curiosity. And she was curious, even though he could see her warring feelings written on her face. He had taken her by surprise and, having opened an unexpected door behind which he had invited her to peep, he was now about to shut it, leaving her wanting more.