Hate to Love You(76)

I nodded, wanting to say something eloquent that would communicate how much his trust meant to me. My throat was too dry, my eyes too wet to communicate. I took James’s hand and brought it to my mouth, turning it over to press my lips into his palm and kiss it. Medieval, I know, but I think he understood.#p#分页标题#e#

One of the silver servers exited the ballroom and saw us, and I dropped James’s hand as if it were a viper.

“No fraternising with the serving wenches,” I said jokingly.

James rubbed his thumb over where I had kissed him. Oh, no, had I slobbered on him?

He gestured at the ballroom. “Join us.”

Okay, this was awkward. James’s good manners dictated he invite me to the party because I was Ryan’s mother. But I had a job to do and besides, my black dress and pageboy wig made me look more Manson than Monroe. Hardly appropriate for a lavish sixtieth.

“Cinderella goes to the ball? Not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because Cinderella could have avoided a lot of trouble if she’d stayed at home and read a book.”

“But then the prince wouldn’t have had so much fun playing with all those feet.”

The teasing glint in his eyes reached inside me and pulled out a laugh. “Caroline’s in there,” I said, sobering. “I haven’t seen her in seven years and I’d rather avoid ‘Clash at the Bash.’”

The relaxed vibe between us disappeared and James looked chagrined, nodding at me curtly before he rejoined his guests. That didn’t stop me from walking on air back to the kitchen. Guilt tried to ground my feet but I kept it at bay. I obeyed my better judgement though, and didn’t return to the ballroom, helping out in the kitchen instead. When the party finished I left Matham Manor on a cloud, determined to leave the past behind and look to the future.

My past didn’t receive the memo.





Chapter Seventeen

No Fairytale Endings

It was Wednesday afternoon and Velma was sorting out a technical glitch in my computer while I was at James’s desktop, growing alarmed over a client bank account I was having problems with. Five thousand pounds was missing and I couldn’t find it, much as I double checked each transaction, tracing every fiduciary deposit I’d made the previous week.

What the hell had happened? When I phoned the bank they said the money had been transferred with my password. I was stumped, raking my mind and wondering if I was losing the plot. If I didn’t find it, I would tell Greg and see if he could help me. He had the password also. Maybe he’d received instructions from the client I hadn’t known about. No way would I tell James.

Call me proud but I didn’t want him to think I was incompetent after his compliments at the weekend. I logged out of the account and gazed at James’s screen. It was neat, just like his desk. There were a few folders saved at the top right corner; client names mostly, and one called Puerto Escondido.

Hidden Port.

Was James a closet pirate? I was intrigued but I had learned my lesson about being nosy. Not that I would open James’s files, mind. Just saying. Still, why did he have a file like that on his desktop?

I checked the time and went to stand over Velma’s shoulder, not wanting James to come back from Madrid and think I was snooping. I was more nervous than the first day of work, wondering if he remembered his dinner invitation.

James came in a few minutes later, phone stuck to his ear.

“All done,” Velma said brightly, batting her eyelashes at James.

Why didn’t she sway her hips back to reception? Greg was in a meeting and it was the ideal time to talk to James alone.

As soon as Velma left, James ran his gaze over me, pausing briefly on my breasts. In spite of my best efforts heat crept into my face. I’d worn a clingy violet top and a flirty, hip-hugging skirt. There was cleavage on show but that’s what push-up bras are for, right? Besides, if we were going out for dinner I could hardly accompany James to a swanky restaurant looking like a middle-aged housewife.#p#分页标题#e#

James’s suit was as sleek and well-tailored as usual but I thought he looked particularly handsome. He was also wearing different cologne, something with a hint of bergamot, and I beat back the thought he’d chosen it for me. Well, if he wanted to turn me on he was succeeding.

James’s briefcase almost knocked over the tea mug I’d left on his desk and I got up to retrieve it. There was something predatory in his shoulders as he watched me advance. My Sluts R Us button responded and I swayed my hips—much better than Velma had—as I approached. My mind reminded me of my guilt, giving me a good reason not to flirt, but my body didn’t listen.