He shuffled so that he could now half shut the door behind him.
His movements didn’t go unnoticed and Cristina, who had left her house feeling a million dollars, now wanted to tug the dress down and stick her little clutch bag in front of her breasts. Was he embarrassed at her? Did he think that her outfit was going to lower the tone of his party?
Nothing like this had ever happened to her before, and she was mortified to think that it could be happening now.
‘If you’d rather I left.’ She risked a quick, desperate glance over her shoulder.
‘Of course not. You’re here now. I’m just surprised at your choice of clothing.’
‘Anthea gave me a hand,’ Cristina confessed.
‘Right.’ Rafael wondered what else Anthea had done to give her a hand since they had broken up. Taken her to a few rave parties, maybe? Dressed like that, there wasn’t a man in London who wouldn’t have done a double take.
‘Well … shall we go inside?’
‘Of course!’ He stood back and watched grimly as she entered the room and, as he’d expected, the red dress—or rather the lack of it, in combination with her all too obvious womanly charms—had every man in the room covertly looking in her direction. And naturally Cindy, whose eyes narrowed as she strolled over slowly, but very purposefully, in their direction.
She had dressed to impress and had toed a fine line between sexy and ‘blonde but wanting to be taken seriously’. Consequently, she had ended up looking somewhat like a very attractive, super-efficient air stewardess, in a dove-grey skirt with small matching jacket, grey shoes and a white blouse with a couple of buttons discreetly left undone. Next to Cristina, she was a pale shadow of a woman, but he still smiled winningly in her direction and slung his arm casually around her shoulders as she nestled against him and gave Cristina a very thorough once-over.
‘Welcome to our little gathering,’ Cindy said. She gave Rafael a little squeeze that was clear indication to Cristina that he really and truly had moved on. Moved on to a gorgeous, leggy blonde who wasn’t dressed like a clown. Cristina wanted the ground to open and swallow her up, but she smiled brightly, because there was no law against Rafael finding happiness with someone else even if it was like a dagger through her heart.
The waiter came round with a tray of drinks and Cristina hurriedly grabbed one, making up her mind there and then that she would need a couple of drinks to see the evening through.
Cindy, all smiles and elegance, was now taking charge, shooing Rafael away to his guests and assuring him that she would take little Cristina under her wing, make sure that she was introduced to some interesting young people.
Cristina gulped down what was left of the wine in her glass and tried not to feel like a kid in fancy dress at an adult gathering.
After three glasses of Chablis and no nibbles, because she felt fat, the party was taking on a much more agreeable tenor. For a start, Rafael might have thought that she looked cheap and tarty, but several of the young men there appeared to be of a different opinion. In fact, several of the more mature men seemed to share the feeling.
By the time she happened to glance at her watch it was after midnight and she had, she thought, done rather well. She had kept a healthy distance from Rafael—not wanting to be reminded of his newly evolved state with the glamorous and very solicitous Cindy—and she had, in addition, gathered a few very useful numbers from people who were interested in talking to her about her landscaping plans.
Indeed, one was, at this very moment, in the process of persuading her that he was in desperate need of her talents.
‘But I thought you lived in an apartment,’ she pointed out gently.
‘I do, and you need to get over there and have a look. My potted plants are in dire need of some love and attention …’
‘You’re drunk, Goodman. Time to go. I’ve called a cab and it’s waiting.’
Cristina, who had been enjoying the flattery and wondering if she shouldn’t be asserting her joy of singledom by accepting his invitation to view his boxed plants, swung round at the sound of Rafael’s voice.
The room had emptied. How and when had that happened? She looked around in panic for her forgotten clutch bag, but by the time she had visually located it Rafael was back, standing in front of her, arms folded, his face grim.
‘I’ll just be on my way,’ she said, backing away in the direction of the bag. ‘I had no idea everyone had disappeared!’ She gave a nervous little giggle.
‘No, I don’t suppose you did,’ Rafael grated. ‘You were so absorbed in the charms of James Goodman that the proverbial sky could have fallen down and you wouldn’t have noticed.’ The night, as far as Rafael was concerned, had been a disaster. The guests had bored him after half an hour, Cindy had been appalling in her desperation to prove her hostess abilities and stake her claim—and Cristina, whom he had imagined might come and shyly hang back, compelling him to draw her out, had stolen the show. He had no intention of telling her, but several people had asked about her, wondered who she was. The whole experience had not been a good one, and now here she was, eager to scuttle off, probably in the hope of catching Goodman before he left the scene of the crime.