‘You can stay here tonight,’ he said.
She looked up. ‘As part of the deal?’
‘Yes,’ he said. Whatever she might think of him, he would not let a young woman risk being alone in London without a safe place to sleep. ‘Though you can steer clear of my bathroom.’
‘And what about tomorrow night?’ she said, audacity trickling back into her demeanour.
‘Tomorrow night too.’
For the first time since he had encountered her in his bathtub Ashleigh smiled. Delightful dimples bracketed her cheeks and light danced in her eyes. He found himself dazzled by the warmth and vivacity that smile brought to her face. She really was lovely, in a wholesome, unsophisticated way.
‘Thank you,’ she said again. ‘That will give me the breathing space I need to make other arrangements.’
‘After that you’ll be on your own,’ he cautioned her.
‘I’m aware of that,’ she said. ‘I realise I’m only here on sufferance.’ She paused. ‘Just checking I won’t be charged accommodation fees for those two extra nights?’
‘Of course not,’ he said, an edge of impatience burring his voice. ‘You’re now an invited guest.’
‘Just needed to be sure,’ she said, but there was an impish gleam to her eyes that made him unsure if she was completely serious. He wasn’t used to being teased.
He looked pointedly at his watch. ‘I suggest you go back downstairs and change.’
She looked down at her jeans and trainers, as if seeing them for the first time. ‘Yes, these clothes won’t do, will they? I’m warning you, though, I don’t have the wardrobe to be a billionaire’s escort.’ She flushed. ‘I mean “escort” in the old-fashioned sense of the word, not...uh...the other.’
‘I thought I’d made it very clear that this is strictly business.’ Now he felt like rolling his eyes.
‘Yes, you did,’ she said. ‘And I didn’t mean...’ Her words petered to a halt. She walked back to the desk and picked up her backpack. ‘I’ll go down to change now. Shall I meet you at the bottom of the stairs in ten minutes?’
He nodded, secretly sceptical about the ten minutes. Never had he known a woman to get ready for a dinner date in that small amount of time.
She headed towards the door. Again, he thought how gracefully she moved. It made watching her do something as simple as walk away a pleasure. But she stopped and turned on her heel to face him again. ‘Mr Christophedes, before I go, I want to thank you for...well, for being so reasonable about all this. I appreciate it and I want to assure you that in return I’ll do my very best for you with the fake date scenario.’
It gave him a jolt that she called him Mr Christophedes. The formal usage felt as if she had put him in his place—an older guy, an employer, someone of a different generation to be kept at a distance.
He didn’t know why he didn’t like it. But she couldn’t keep calling him Mr Christophedes when they were together with Tina Norris. That would give away the game.
Ashleigh didn’t wait for an answer and her quickened pace as she left the room made it clear she didn’t expect one.
Lukas looked at the doorway for a long moment after she’d left. Who would have thought the maid in his bathtub would turn out to be such an interesting woman?
Ten minutes later, he was amazed to find Ashleigh waiting for him at the base of the staircase. She’d used the time to advantage. He was so taken aback by the result he was momentarily lost for words. Once again, she’d surprised him.
No trace of backpacker remained. She wore a simple black dress, buttoned down the front and belted at the waist, with elbow-length sleeves. The hem stopped just above her knees to display slender legs encased in fine charcoal stockings and finished with low-heeled black pumps.
‘Do I look okay for the restaurant?’ she said, aware of his overly long inspection.
Her hair had been tamed and pulled half back off her face. She’d darkened around her eyes, which made them look even bluer, and her mouth gleamed with a warm pink lipstick.
‘You look very nice,’ he said, then cursed inwardly that he’d used such an overworked English word. Eisai omorfi were the words that sprang to his mind—You look beautiful. But that would be inappropriate.
‘Great, because this is the only dress I’ve got with me,’ she said with a sigh of relief. ‘It’s what I wear when I’m waitressing at posh parties. Maids in Chelsea doesn’t have a uniform—a black dress is required for such occasions. My friend Sophie gave this to me when I started there. She’s a fashion designer—when she’s not a maid or waitress, that is—she’d made it for herself then adjusted it to fit me.’ She smiled. ‘But I guess that’s too much information, isn’t it?’
Lukas was still shaken by his reaction to how good she looked in that dress. It was discreet, modest even, but it fitted snugly and made no secret of her curves, a hint of cleavage in the open neckline, the belt emphasising her narrow waist and the flare of her hips. He had to clear his voice to speak. ‘Not really. Now I know you have a friend Sophie who is generous and good to you.’
Ashleigh smiled—not her full-on dazzling smile but halfway to it. ‘I went to school in Manchester with Sophie when we were teenagers and we’ve always stayed in touch. She got me the job too. Then introduced me to two of the other girls at Maids in Chelsea and we’ve all become friends.’ She looked up at him, that smile still hovering around her mouth. ‘But none with a sofa available when I needed it.’
Lukas smiled in response. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he was glad she’d ended up at his house—but his outrage at her impudence had dissipated.
‘You’ll be cold when we get outside.’ He noticed she had a coat slung over her arm. ‘Get your coat on and we’ll walk to the restaurant.’
She shrugged on her coat and once again Lukas stared at her, this time in what he feared was ill-concealed dismay. Of course she picked up on it. ‘It’s not great, is it?’ she said of the shabby quilted anorak that didn’t meet the hem of her dress.
‘Is that the only coat you have?’
‘A warm overcoat is not something you need in Bundaberg’s tropical climate,’ she said. ‘I borrowed this from my sister from when she backpacked around Europe. I’m waiting until next payday to buy something more suitable for London.’
‘In the meantime, you shiver?’ he said.
‘Let’s just say I walk really fast when I’m outside,’ she said. ‘Oh, and these help.’ From out of her coat pocket she pulled a hideous checked scarf and a pair of knitted mittens and flourished them in front of him. Lukas had to refrain from shuddering his distaste. He might have his issues with his mother but she was the most elegantly dressed woman he knew, and had set the standard for how he expected a woman to dress. He’d have to schedule a shopping expedition for Ashleigh in the morning so she looked the part for their fake date.
‘You can’t wear that out with me,’ he said, too bluntly.
‘Oh,’ she said, suddenly subdued. Without protest, she slid the odious excuse for a coat off her shoulders. ‘Then I guess I’ll shiver in just my dress.’ With great exaggeration, she wrapped her arms around herself and made her teeth chatter. ‘I’ll walk really, really fast to the restaurant.’
‘No need for that,’ he said, heading for the cloakroom under the stairs. ‘My mother left a coat behind on her last visit. She’s a little taller than you but I think it will fit.’
‘Your mother won’t mind?’
‘My mother has so many clothes she’s probably forgotten she has it,’ he said.
Lukas