Bedded at the Billionaire's Convenience Read online

  He had spent a surprisingly restful day in the company of his mother. Having never been shopping with her before, or at least as far back as he could remember, he had not, over the passing years, noticed how much more tentative she was on her feet, relying on holding onto his arm as they ambled along the high street. Her spirits were high but her physical capabilities were more limited than he had expected and perhaps it was the arm-in-arm contact, but they had actually communicated without any formality or restraint.

  He had not once glanced at his watch and wondered what was happening at the office, nor had he insisted on taking calls on his mobile because the cutthroat world of business, as he had often been wont to explain to her, didn’t take time off when he happened to.

  All in all he was feeling on top of the world.

  ‘You’re not my lover,’ Georgie muttered, bristling and pink-cheeked.

  Not yet, Pierre caught himself thinking and he smiled to himself. This morning had been something of a revelation for him. The awkward tomboy who had matured into the thoroughly irritating woman had been neither tomboy-ish nor irritating. And she had wanted him. Never mind her protests to the contrary.

  ‘Oh, but we wouldn’t want Didi to suspect that, would we?’ He slipped his arm around her waist and got the distinct impression that she would have slapped it away if only she could have got away with it. As it was, he ushered her to the waiting Bentley, opening the door for her and slamming it shut once she was safely inside.

  They had had a marvellous day, lots of shopping. Didi was in top form as they drove to the restaurant and she looked it as well, her cheeks pink, her eyes lively, and she had taken an awful lot of trouble with her clothes. It was a joy to see. She was wearing her favourite deep green checked skirt and a dark green jumper, which, she confided to Georgie as Pierre went ahead of them to chat to the manager, Pierre had insisted on buying for her.

  ‘So he should,’ Georgie said, trying to look the enchanted lover through gritted teeth and refraining from mentioning that he had precious little else on which to spend the vast amounts of money at his disposal.

  ‘I know,’ Didi agreed wistfully, ‘but he never has. Not unless it’s been a special occasion. Oh, yes, he’s never forgotten a birthday or a Mother’s Day, but this is the first time he’s ever spontaneously bought something for me. I can’t begin to tell you what that means. Must be love.’

  ‘Of course he loves you.’

  ‘No, darling, it must be because he’s in love.’

  Georgie was spared having to meet that statement with something suitably obscure by Pierre’s return. A fair few of the diners had cancelled their reservations because of the weather, and they were shown to the best table in the house, nestled in an intimate corner where the black and white signed photographs on the walls reminded them that the restaurant had been visited by a host of celebrities down the years.

  Georgie, especially when she managed to keep her eyes firmly focused on Didi rather than on the man sitting to the right of her, looked forward to an evening of relative relaxation.

  At least with Didi on the scene, the conversation wouldn’t get too personal. Nothing, at any rate, that she couldn’t handle and because the circular table was big Pierre was, thankfully, too far away for any of those loving gestures he seemed to think were of vital importance.

  And tomorrow he would be gone. Back to London where they could conduct their love affair with the safety of several hundred miles between them. Conduct it and also work out how to jettison it before Didi got it into her head that the sound of church bells would be the next logical step in the scenario.

  Her relief was short-lived. No sooner than pleasantries had been made about the menu, the choice of food and the wine selection, Pierre sat back in his chair and said, a little too carelessly for Georgie’s liking, ‘A man could get used to the open spaces. Quite a change from London…’

  Georgie’s antennae were immediately on full alert even though the observation was innocuous enough.

  ‘I never thought I’d hear you say that, Pierre,’ Didi told him, surprised.

  ‘And I never thought I would,’ he confessed. ‘Maybe age is beginning to take its toll.’ He gave Georgie a lazy half-smile. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Oh, you’re a city gent through and through!’ She smiled ruefully at Didi and began to formulate the foundations for their eventual break-up. ‘You know you’ve always wanted to live in London! You said so yourself! All that stuff about the cut and thrust of city life. I guess it’s the excitement, the challenges…quite an addiction, I would say. So, you might think you like the peace of rural life but really, you’d be lost without London. Lots of people find that. They sell up and move to the country because they’ve been there a couple of times and they imagine that there couldn’t be anything better than waking up to the sound of birds and farm animals. Then they get here and realise that there’s no café lattes and baguettes within walking distance and no nightclubs to speak of and no sprawling choice of stage musicals on a Saturday evening…funny the things you get used to without even realising.’ She looked ruefully at Didi. ‘This is one of the many drawbacks of a long distance relationship.’

  ‘You hardly live on opposite ends of the earth!’ Didi exclaimed.

  ‘I know, but, well, it’s more than that, isn’t it, Pierre?’ She looked to Pierre for support, but he was frowning slightly, which made Georgie wonder whether she wasn’t laying it on a bit thick. The last thing she wanted to do was alarm Didi, make her retreat back to that dark place from which she had just emerged.

  ‘Is it?’ Pierre asked mildly.

  ‘Well, yes…of course it is!’ She heard herself beginning to splutter and drew in a deep, steadying breath. Why on earth wasn’t he supporting her? He had been dragged kicking and screaming into this situation and here she was, giving him the golden opportunity to begin opening his exit door, and what was he doing? Relaxing indolently back in his chair, head politely tilted to one side, looking at her as though she had suddenly begun speaking in tongues. Did he really not follow what she was trying to do? Or maybe, and this seemed a lot more likely, he was happy to let her flounder in her own confused, tentative outpourings, thereby allowing himself the privilege of being able to turn around at a later date and say to Didi, Well, I was willing to give it a go, but Georgie…

  ‘What do you mean, darling?’ Didi was beginning to look perplexed.

  ‘Oh, nothing really. I was just saying how awkward it can be trying to unite different backgrounds…’ Lord, now she was beginning to sound as though she came from a different planet.

  ‘It’s easy to let small pitfalls turn into insurmountable obstacles,’ Didi said thoughtfully, ‘but sometimes the pitfalls are what make us stronger people…sometimes they can cement love into something truly lasting and unshakeable…’

  Georgie grunted. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a waiter approaching them, thank heavens. She crossed her fingers and hoped that the temporary diversion as they ordered food would rescue her, but as soon as the wine was poured and the waiter had disappeared Didi returned to the conversation, waxing lyrical now about the compromises needed for a relationship to survive and the shocking ease with which young people seemed to get married only to divorce a few years later, as though the marriage contract were little more than a piece of paper that could be chucked in the fire the minute the going got tough.

  Georgie now felt almost as if she were one of those paper-chucking-into-fire people, while Pierre, sipping his wine, was somehow pure as the driven snow. She gulped down a generous mouthful of wine and clenched her fists on her lap, safely out of sight underneath the starched white linen tablecloth.

  ‘I agree—’ she struggled to bring things back on track ‘—absolutely. It’s just that Pierre is so…’ she gave him a smile and hoped it summed up exactly how she was feeling ‘…exciting and ambitious and well travelled. I just worry, darling, that you won’t get bored with little ole me…’ She reached
out and gave his hand a little squeeze and then left it there, with her nails digging into his palm. Typically the gesture backfired as he brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed her fingers, every inch the besotted lover who clearly had no idea why she was making such a deal of something as insignificant as a few miles.

  ‘I’m flattered that you find me so fascinating,’ he murmured, tweaking her description just that bit so that he was elevated a couple of notches. ‘I assure you I could never find you boring.’

  Georgie wriggled her hand, which he now firmly placed in his so that their linked hands were on the table, making a nonsense of her feeble suggestions that the miles between them, the vast difference of their personalities, were dramatic problems lurking in the wings, ready to pounce at any given moment, and Didi, ever the incurable romantic, had no trouble in falling for the phony gesture hook, line and sinker.

  ‘The opposite,’ Pierre murmured lovingly. ‘Your every move is unpredictable. You’re spontaneous and utterly impulsive. Wouldn’t you agree? The times you’ve surprised me in London…showing up literally out of thin air! Prepared to do anything on the spur of the moment…’ He stroked her hand with one of his fingers and it sent a red hot current shooting through her. ‘Hardly the sort who could ever be boring!’

  ‘Opposites do attract,’ Didi mused thoughtfully.

  ‘I hope you’re not implying that I’m the boring half of this relationship, Didi!’ Pierre laughed. ‘Because if so, you’re in a minority of one considering this hussy next to me finds me scintillating.’

  Hussy? Was he referring to her behaviour that morning before? Making fun of her because she couldn’t possibly defend herself with Didi sitting there, smiling contentedly at them?

  ‘And so you are,’ Didi agreed with an indulgent chuckle. ‘What a shame you have to dash back up to London so soon. Just when…when…’

  Georgie snatched her hand free. ‘I know. Shame. But work calls! Perfectly understandable! I never understood the compulsion to work every hour of every day, but I certainly have learnt to respect that side of you, Pierre!’ She turned to Didi. ‘Compromise and all that!’

  ‘And far too much of it!’ Pierre returned, allowing a pregnant silence as the waiter placed starters in front of them.

  ‘Which,’ he announced with satisfaction, ‘is why I have contacted my office and informed them that I will be taking the next week off! I did say that this country life’s beginning to get to me. Do you know, it’s been years since I had any kind of holiday from work? I think I deserve it. Especially when I have such temptations waiting here for me!’

  Georgie couldn’t help it. Her mouth dropped in sheer, horrified amazement.

  ‘You can’t!’ she spluttered. ‘I mean…don’t you have that really big, really important deal thing going on? The one you told me about? Meetings…conferences…lawyers…’

  ‘What deal thing?’ Pierre asked, frowning. ‘Be a bit more specific.’

  ‘I can’t remember the exact deal,’ Georgie gritted, ‘but you mentioned…you mentioned that you absolutely had to be in the office Monday at the latest!’

  ‘Plans change.’

  ‘That’s wonderful news, Pierre!’ Didi was pink with pleasure at this unexpected development.

  ‘Honestly, Pierre!’ Georgie tried to sound delighted. ‘Don’t forget that I shall be working! Seems silly to take time off when I’ll be busy virtually every minute of the day!’

  ‘And never you mind,’ he soothed. ‘I’ll be working a fair bit of the time myself. I have my laptop with me! And there are one or two things around the house I want to see to.’

  ‘Such as?’ Georgie asked in a high voice.

  ‘Small leak in the guest bathroom…a couple of cracks on walls need painting.’

  ‘You don’t do DIY, Pierre!’

  ‘Maybe I’ve decided to start.’ He smiled at her, challenging her to carry on until she had well and truly boxed herself in. ‘Darling.’

  ‘Better late than never,’ Didi said stoutly. ‘Doing your own odd jobs can be very satisfying and I won’t deny that it’ll be wonderful having a man around the house. It’s been such a long time.’

  Georgie wished that she could be a little more magnanimous on Didi’s behalf, but her nerves had been everywhere since Pierre had descended on them and she had been looking forward to his departure with something bordering on desperation.

  ‘And we can always meet up in the evenings, or rather the pair of you can! I’m just as happy to catch up on my reading. Have I mentioned, darling, that I’ve started back with my book club? My, this food was delicious!’

  ‘How long do you plan on sticking around?’ Georgie was hardly aware of Didi in the background.

  ‘Not sure.’ He raised his eyebrows and grinned. ‘Maybe some of your impulsiveness is beginning to rub off on me.’

  Georgie, defeated, could barely enjoy the exquisite food that was put in front of her. Why was he doing this?

  She found that she was willing the evening to end, and not because she wanted to get back home, though she did, but more importantly she wanted to find out just what the hell he thought he was doing.

  And there seemed little likelihood of her questions being answered as she was dropped off first, her house being on the way, and Pierre saw her to the door, only telling her en route that, for someone who prided herself on being carefree and fun-loving, she certainly looked as though she was about to explode.

  ‘I am!’

  ‘Bad for the blood pressure,’ he whispered, and while she was still glaring and thinking of a suitable comeback he bent and kissed her swiftly on the lips, not giving her time to pull away.

  And that was why she had wanted him gone. Because that fleeting touch of his mouth against hers touched the very core of her, touched her almost as powerfully as if he had made love to her. She seemed to have no protective layer against that, no defences that were sturdy enough to hold him at bay.

  And she had another week of him! Hanging around! Playing the good lover whenever Didi was around! How on earth was she going to cope? How many excuses could she rummage up for avoiding him without Didi smelling a rat? Her innocent and naïve belief that this charade would bring the desired results, no harm done, was in mortal danger of becoming the most hideous piece of misjudgement she had ever made in her entire life.

  And she still had to talk to Pierre!

  Her head was spinning by the time she was in her pyjamas. The doorbell rang five times before Georgie, cocooned in her bedroom in front of a book and with the small, portable radio as background noise, was even aware of a visitor. Furthermore she knew exactly who it would be and decided that she wasn’t in the mood to have a conversation with him. Not when she was in her pyjamas and still seething. Tomorrow, she would be calm and controlled and would be able to handle him like an adult. She switched off the bedroom light, buried her head under the pillow so that she couldn’t hear the doorbell, and grinned at the thought of him stamping his feet outside her front door in the freezing cold, not, for once, getting his own way.

  She was unaware of the soft pad of footsteps up her staircase as Pierre tentatively pushed open doors on the landing until he found her bedroom.

  He switched on the overhead light and watched as the buried lump under the quilt yelped and eventually emerged, hair everywhere and green eyes spitting fury.

  ‘I did ring the doorbell,’ he said, bypassing pleasantries.

  ‘How did you get in?’

  ‘Key.’ He jangled his trouser pocket provocatively. ‘Didi has a spare on a hook by the Aga.’

  ‘So you just took it and headed over!’

  ‘That’s about the size of it.’ He stepped into the bedroom, which was cluttered but not in an unpleasant manner. The dress she had worn earlier hung over the chair by the dressing table and several outfits, which he suspected she might have earlier tried on, were piled randomly on the weathered pine trunk by the bay window. Here was someone who had no hang-ups about neatness. A
scented candle had obviously been burning because the room smelt of sandalwood and he thought that a nice touch. ‘Actually Didi was surprised I didn’t have my own key, but I told her that you always travelled up to London to see me.’ She had now wriggled into a semi-sitting position and folded her arms protectively. ‘You spent the entire evening fulminating. Why?’

  ‘This is neither the time nor the pla—’

  ‘Yes, yes, yes. And now we’ve established that, are you going to spit it out?’ He strolled across to the bay window, shoved aside the pile of clothes and sat down, stretching out his long legs and relaxing back to stare at her. He doubted she knew what a fierce turn-on she was, with her rumpled vanilla-blonde hair and her angry green eyes. He doubted she was aware of how those angry green eyes would slide furtively towards him, fascinated and caressing and guilty all at once. He had done his own fair share of furtive watching over dinner…little did she know, but watching her watching him had been an erotic little game.

  Ever since that morning, she had been playing games with him, keeping him at arm’s length when those hot eyes were begging him to get closer. Who was he to resist the pull of Nature?

  He hadn’t anticipated being attracted to the woman. It was a complication which, he had to admit, was proving intensely enjoyable. Those Keep Out signs she was plastering all around her were a nuisance, however.

  ‘We could always go downstairs if you find it awkward being in bed…’

  Georgie thought of him sitting there, watching her as she clambered out from under the duvet in her unappealing nightwear. ‘Okay. I’ll say what I have to say and then I want you to leave. Understood?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘What do you think you were playing at this evening?’

  Pierre frowned and crossed his legs. Just looking at her was beginning to arouse him! It was crazy. He stood up and began pacing the small room, to distract himself from the way she was leaning forward, affording him a tantalising glimpse of those soft, small breasts.

  ‘Explain.’

  ‘Don’t pretend, Pierre! You know exactly what I’m talking about! I gave you the perfect opportunity for us to start finding a way out of this relationship!’