He placed the ticket on the bar beside the two drinks and lifted one. ‘All arranged.’
He needed the drink. But on swallowing he quickly stifled his immediate grimace and subsequent smile. This sour fiery stuff wasn’t quite the champagne he’d been expecting. At first glance he’d guessed she’d be a sweet romantic—sensitivity and shy awkwardness were obvious in her eyes. But then she came out with a line of soft-spoken sarcasm, a penchant for rocket fuel as an aperitif and a self-deprecating giggle that stole a rare smile from him.
‘Thanks,’ she said to him earnestly. ‘That’s so kind of you.’
Oddly he didn’t want her to think he was kind. He wanted a bit more of a reaction than that. He wanted...he paused to battle the full force of what he wanted...but, yeah, it was pretty much everything he shouldn’t want. It was everything illicit.
* * *
Leah Turner sipped her drink, stifling the urge to surreptitiously pinch herself. This kind of thing never happened to her. Somehow the most gorgeous guy had intercepted her during her most humiliating moment and gallantly turned her disappointment into something else altogether. And, man, he was gorgeous. Tall, lean, muscular, powerful, he exuded a sensual magnetism that was beyond normal. She’d most certainly never felt sexual attraction from one look. He was so dazzling it was hard to think and she wasn’t sure what she was more rapt about—not missing the entire ballet, or stealing a few minutes of this man’s time.
Because those eyes of his? Green eyes were usually a mix of colours—green mixed with blue or hazel, or bronze. But his were pure forest green. So rare, so startling, she had to constantly tell herself not to stare at him. She tried to stare at her glass instead, but only lasted a mere second before lapsing and gawping at him again. ‘You’re important around here?’
‘No.’
She didn’t believe him. She’d watched him speak with the theatre manager and that woman had been all deferential smiles and soothing words. He held more than charm. He held power. Hell, he’d made Leah feel as if she’d done him a favour by saying yes to taking the ticket.
He smiled and there was something a little dangerous in it. ‘Why are you here alone?’
His accent curled her toes and made her an appalling cliché. She had no idea what the mix was, but it melted her like a lonely snowflake on a sunny windowsill.
‘I’m not.’ She lifted her chin. ‘My friend is already here, but she’s onstage.’
‘She’s a dancer?’
‘Yes. She sent me the ticket but I was running late because I’d stopped to help Maeve with something.’
‘Maeve?’
‘One of the residents at the care home I work at. She’s lovely and we bond over—’ Leah paused, realising she was prattling. ‘Over stuff,’ she finished. He didn’t need to know about her new job and the people she’d already fallen for. ‘Why were you running late?’
‘I was on a call.’
‘Girlfriend problems?’ she guessed, cheekily personal but it just had to be the case. ‘Is that why you’re alone? Did she stand you up?’
His eyebrows lifted in a quizzical look.
‘What—you’re never stood up?’ she asked before thinking, of course, he wasn’t.
‘No girlfriend.’ That gorgeous smile crept across his face as if he were pleased to be able to correct her. ‘That’s the real problem. According to my grandfather anyway.’
‘You were talking to your grandfather?’ She was surprised. ‘He wants you to settle down?’
He nodded mock seriously. ‘And provide heirs to the family fortune.’
For certain there was a family fortune. His suit was so beautifully fitting it had to be tailor-made and the gleaming watch on his wrist screamed luxury style. ‘You don’t want to do that?’
‘Not yet,’ he said, obviously and unashamedly repelled by the idea.
‘Yet?’ she queried doubtfully because that wicked light in his eyes made her laugh. There was too much fun to be had first, clearly. How could he not be a playboy? All the women who’d want him, it’d be too easy. But she played along. ‘Because you have too much to do? Too busy with work? Too many other options?’
‘None of the above.’ He chose another answer altogether. ‘Hence no date to the ballet...’
‘I don’t believe you’re out of options,’ she said. ‘You’ve chosen not to bring a date.’ She cocked her head. ‘Because you don’t want to settle down at all?’
He met her gaze with knowing amusement.
She shook her head sadly. ‘Why do I get the feeling your poor grandfather is going to be waiting a while...’
He rolled his shoulders and his amusement faded as something far more serious flickered in his eyes. ‘He’s been unwell—this is preying on him. Hence the lecture.’
Leah watched him blink away that sliver of pain. That he’d not ended the call soon enough to get into the theatre showed he had patience and loyalty and respect for his relative.
‘Family expectations can be hard,’ she offered with soft honesty. ‘I’m an eternal disappointment to mine.’
He looked back into her eyes and they were held for a moment—silent scrutiny, total awareness—and she was struck by the conviction there was much more buried beneath his perfect surface.
‘I don’t believe you’d ever be a disappointment,’ he finally muttered—so low and so serious that she couldn’t smile and shake it off.
Instead a heated flush swept over her skin and she swallowed back the hard lump that had formed in her throat. ‘Well, you’d be wrong.’
He gazed at her for another moment of that unspoken communication—the deeply guarded truth, not the superficial denial that there was anything wrong.
Then he blinked and his lips twitched. ‘Your family want you to marry too?’
Laughter burst out, breaking that intensity. She shook her head.
‘Quite right, it’s a dreadful idea,’ he teased.
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘It isn’t—’
‘You’re wrong.’ He saluted her with his drink again. ‘All marriages end up miserable.’
‘Wow...is that what happened to you?’
He almost choked on his drink and then laughed. ‘Not married. Never married. Never will marry.’
Yes, the only ring in his world was the ring of finality.
‘Because...’ She inhaled deeply as she studied him thoughtfully. ‘Parents?’
He flashed a look at her—pure pain, pure denial, pure promise of retribution.
‘Yeah,’ she murmured meekly. ‘Poor grandfather.’
‘You think I’m that predictable.’ He took another sip.
‘I think that everyone feels pain, sometimes,’ she said. ‘And often the people who inflict the most pain are the people we’re meant to be closest to.’
‘I’m not close to them,’ he said softly, then forced another smile. ‘So, tell me about your dancer friend. Is it her debut?’
‘No, it’s just that I’ve only recently moved to London so I haven’t been able to see her perform until tonight.’ She shifted guiltily on her chair as she remembered. ‘And now I’ve missed her.’
‘Only the first half. And she doesn’t need to know you’ve missed that.’
‘You think I should lie to her?’
He smiled at her as if she were a timid little lamb. ‘You’re omitting a little of the truth. That’s not a lie.’
‘Of course it’s a lie,’ she corrected him flatly. ‘It’s not completely honest.’
‘And we should always be completely honest?’ He shook his head and laughed openly.
‘You think I’m wrong?’
‘Naïve, perhaps.’ He leaned closer. ‘Sometimes telling the truth serves no purpose. When it can only hurt the person who has to hear it, why would you?’ He broke off with a sharp breath.
&nbs
p; She had the feeling he wasn’t thinking of her little ‘missing the first half’ mistake any more.
‘So you’d omit the truth, or tell a lie, to protect someone?’ she asked.
‘Of course.’
He said it with such quiet certainty, she knew he had and did. She thought of the grandfather all over again and wondered what it was he protected him from.
That quizzical look lit his eyes again. ‘What would hurt your friend more? Knowing you missed the first half, or never knowing you missed it?’
‘If she ever found out I lied, that would hurt her the most. But if I tell her the truth, she’ll just laugh at me.’