For a second he felt her stiffen, and then, as a few drops of rain conveniently precipitated out of the murky sky, she let him usher her into his car.
‘Where do I tell the driver?’ he asked.
She gave an address—a quiet road in Notting Hill—and he relayed it to the chauffeur, who nodded behind his glass screen as he changed direction and set off to cross Hyde Park towards Bayswater Road, instead of heading towards Park Lane and Salvatore’s hotel there.
‘I hope it’s not too out of your way—but you did offer!’ The blonde’s voice was half apologetic and half not.
‘Not at all,’ he assured her smoothly.
He smiled across at her. Her face was in chiaroscuro now, as the intermittent light from the street and passing vehicles played across it. He felt that kick go through him again, welcoming it.
‘Will you change your mind about dinner?’ He turned to look at her as the car moved off again into the traffic. ‘There are some excellent restaurants in Notting Hill!’ he said lightly.
She shook her head again, and he was surprised. Women did not usually turn down dinner invitations from him. His eyes rested on her appreciatively. In the time since he’d last set eyes on her she had not lost an iota of the impact she’d made on his senses. His eyelids drooped in sensual assessment.
‘Thank you—but I really do need to head home.’
Her voice still sounded composed, but he suspected she was not as indifferent as she was making herself out to be.
He was glad of her turning him down now. Perhaps it made sense not to rush things with her. He’d acted on impulse in picking her up as he had, and that was unusual for him. Unusual to the point of his never doing so. His affairs were always carefully considered and of deliberately limited duration, and he chose the women he had them with just as carefully.
So why act on impulse with this stunning blonde?
The question flitted, but he dismissed it.
‘Perhaps I could take you to dinner another evening,’ he said now. He would happily extend his trip to London to do so.
For a moment she seemed to hesitate. Then she shook her head. This time he was sure there was regret in her face.
‘I really can’t afford any more complications in my life right now,’ she answered.
He honed in on the key word. ‘More?’ he asked. She didn’t answer and he pressed again, an unwelcome thought occurring to him. ‘Are you involved with someone?’
If she were, then he definitely didn’t want to have anything to do with her. But she shook her head—quite decisively.
‘No—thank God! Not any longer!’
His eyes rested on her. He could see agitation in her face now.
‘A broken heart?’ he asked.
If so, that would be a definite no for him too. He preferred to keep things simple when it came to women—no complicated emotions ricocheting around.
‘A broken bank balance!’ came the retort. Anger flashed in her face, her voice. ‘Courtesy of my ex-boyfriend! It means I have to work non-stop right now.’ She looked at him square-on. ‘I can’t take any time out for...well, for dinner for a start. Or...’ She didn’t quite look at him now. ‘Or for anything else.’
‘I’m sorry to hear it,’ he said smoothly.
He was, too. In this confined private space she was having a powerful effect on him, from the perfection of her profile to the gold of her hair.
‘So am I,’ he heard her say, almost sotto voce.
That made him speak again. ‘What did your ex do to you?’
‘He took out a four-hundred-thousand-pound mortgage on my flat!’ she bit out. ‘Then did a runner, leaving me to repay it!’
The anger was back in her voice, in her face, in her emerald flashing eyes.
Salvatore’s eyebrows rose. For a woman without his kind of financial background that was a hefty amount indeed.