The Millionaire Affair. Sophie Weston

as he had done.

      ‘You might just have answered your own question,’ she drawled with deliberate insolence.

      He was clearly disconcerted. Not used to people being less than delighted to see him. Lisa thought sourly. The thought rang a faint bell in her head.

      She didn’t have time to pursue it. The man was knocking at the door to Tatiana’s part of the house. There was no answer. He looked back at Lisa, all the way down that haughty nose.

      ‘Do you have a key to Tatiana’s place?’

      ‘No,’ said Lisa.

      His mouth tightened. He looked very determined. The inner bell rang louder.

      She said grudgingly, ‘I could go up through the garden and see if she’s there.’

      He nodded. ‘Yes, that’s an idea. All right.’

      “‘Thank you very much, Miss Romaine”,’ Lisa muttered.

      He did not appear to hear.

      Lisa thumped her way bad-temperedly down the stairs. She was sure nothing had happened to Tatiana. She had met her in the hall last night, off to attend a ballet recital, looking stupendously glamorous and about half her age. She had probably just gone out to avoid this pestilential stranger. What was more, Lisa didn’t blame her.

      She turned round to shout as much up to him, and found he was close on her heels.

      ‘Oh,’ she exclaimed, swaying backwards in shock.

      He caught the lapels of her coat and steadied her.

      And that was another shock. The backs of his fingers brushed against the softness of her upper breasts. It was only a touch, but it felt as if he had branded her. Lisa heard her own intake of breath. In the narrow space of the staircase it sounded as loud as a warning siren.

      ‘Whoa,’ she said, shaken.

      Nikolai was shaken too. But his control was better than hers. And his recovery time was not affected by a series of late nights.

      ‘Are you all right?’ he said, his expression enigmatic.

      ‘You startled me,’ she muttered. ‘I didn’t expect you to come with me.’

      ‘I could hardly leave you to climb into Tatiana’s on your own.’

      ‘Climb in?’ said Lisa, startled.

      ‘If necessary.’

      She glared at him for a frustrated moment. Then shrugged and led the way downstairs.

      Her small kitchen diner stretched the width of the house. Tall French windows gave on to the garden. Lisa waved a hand at them.

      ‘Help yourself. Security key’s on the table. I’ll get some clothes on.’

      He acknowledged that with the merest flicker of the opaque brown eyes. But Lisa could sense his amusement as if he had laughed out loud. Suddenly she realised what it must be like to blush. She whisked into her bedroom and closed the door between them with a decisive bang.

      She returned in three minutes, in grubby jeans and a cropped shirt. She had stuffed her feet into deck shoes and tied a scarf round her hair, but she hadn’t done anything about the ravages of last night’s make-up. To tell the truth, Lisa had forgotten it. But to the man awaiting her it looked like a deliberate statement that she didn’t care how he saw her.

      Once again he felt that unexpected, unwanted kick of interest. Crazy, he told himself.

      ‘Well?’ said Lisa.

      He had opened her French windows. An ironwork spiral staircase went up from the garden to Tatiana’s balcony. There was a tray of seedlings and a watering can on the stair. He indicated them with a gesture.

      ‘Well, if she’s in the garden, of course she didn’t hear us,’ said Lisa, disgusted. She thought about what she had just said. She didn’t like the way she had coupled them together like that. ‘You,’ she corrected herself. ‘Of course she didn’t hear you.’ She raised her voice to the volume that could cut through the buzz of a hundred-man dealing room. ‘Tatiana! Where are you?’

      Nikolai winced. ‘Wouldn’t it be easier to go and look? It is Sunday morning, after all. Some people are probably still sleeping. Or—’

      Or in bed making love. He did not say it. But Lisa’s eyes flew to his in shocked and instant comprehension.

      And this time she did blush. She couldn’t help it. Disbelieving, she pressed her hands to her face and felt the heat there. She could never remember blushing in her life before.

      And the man laughed. He looked her up and down with those cat’s eyes, suddenly lazily appreciative, and he laughed.

      ‘Oh, find her yourself,’ snarled Lisa.

      She whipped back into her flat and banged the door.