The Billionaire's Bride of Convenience(14)

‘Good. I really like Kathryn. If you ever did anything to hurt her, I would be very cross.’





‘Mum, I must go. We have an early booking.’ So saying, he snapped his phone shut and looked at Kathryn.





‘Mum can’t make it to lunch tomorrow,’ he said by way of explanation.





‘What a shame. We always have a nice little chat when she comes to the office.’





‘So I gathered. Look, why don’t we both turn off our mobile phones for the next couple of hours? There’s nothing worse than people ringing you during dinner.’





He watched her hesitate, but only for a moment, before she opened her handbag and switched off her phone. Hugh smiled his satisfaction. Such a small victory, but it pleased him.





‘Good,’ he said and, masochistically taking her elbow once more, began shepherding her across the car park towards the restaurant.





CHAPTER FIVE





NEPTUNE’S was everything Kathryn had thought it would be: very classily decorated, with a magnificent view of Sydney Harbour and a mouth-watering menu that made her uncharacteristically indecisive.





But how did one choose between so many incredible dishes?





Incredibly expensive as well. She wondered what price the wine would be.





‘Stop looking at the prices,’ Hugh said after she’d been staring at the menu for a full five minutes. ‘I don’t give a damn what you order. Just hurry up. I’m starving.’





Still, she dilly-dallied.





‘Why don’t you let me order for you?’ he said somewhat impatiently.





‘Perhaps that would be best,’ she agreed when a waiter materialised at the side of their table.





Hugh told him they were skipping the entrée and going straight to the main course, selecting baby Barramundi, accompanied by an exotic concoction of pasta and vegetables, which she didn’t dare ask the waiter to explain for fear she would sound ignorant. Hugh also ordered some herb bread—to be delivered quickly—and a bottle of red wine which she suspected cost a lot more than the fifteen-to-twenty-dollar specials she always bought from her local wine shop.





The waiter returned with the wine like a shot, Hugh taking his time over the taste-testing before giving his nod for the waiter to pour.





‘I haven’t tried this particular wine before,’ he told her after the waiter departed. ‘A friend recommended it to me. Tell me what you think.’





When Kathryn took her first sip, she literally sighed with appreciation. ‘Oh, it’s lovely.’





‘I’ve had better,’ Hugh said. ‘But it’s not bad. Aah, here comes our bread. And just in time. I’ll need something to soak up the alcohol, if I’m going to drive you home afterwards.’





Kathryn almost spilled her wine. Which would have been a complete travesty. ‘You don’t have to do that,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I can easily take the train. I don’t live all that far from the station.’





‘You think I’d let you walk home after dark?’





‘It doesn’t get dark till after eight,’ she replied, feeling grateful for daylight saving.





‘Which it will be by the time we finish here. Don’t make a fuss, Kathryn. And don’t suggest a taxi. I’m driving you home and that’s that. If you’re worried I might be over the limit then don’t be. I’ll restrict my intake to two glasses and you can drink the rest.’





Kathryn found herself doing just that over the course of the next hour and a half, unable to resist either the wine or the wishes of the man sitting opposite her. Hugh in masterful mode was a force to be reckoned with. Her easy-going boss seemed to have changed today into someone she could no longer handle as easily, or ignore; someone she was suddenly finding devastatingly attractive.





Fortunately he didn’t know that, and she aimed to keep it that way.





Nevertheless, Hugh’s air of authority seemed to have robbed her of her willpower and turned her into the kind of woman who enjoyed deferring to her male companion. She’d even given in to his insistence that she have dessert, biting her tongue when he chose a calorie-laden piece of pecan and almond pie, complete with a diet-crushing dollop of whipped cream. Normally, she wouldn’t have dreamt of eating such a thing. She had a tendency to put on weight very easily. Tonight, however, she’d savoured each delicious mouthful, washing it down with a lovely cup of Irish coffee, the bottle of wine having long been finished.





It wasn’t till they were back in Hugh’s Ferrari and hurtling along the western distributor, heading for home, that the first seeds of worry penetrated Kathryn’s decidedly fuzzy head. What if Daryl had been trying to contact her tonight? What if, when he couldn’t reach her on her mobile, he’d rung their flat and found no answer? What would he think?