Nik removed the hand firmly from his cheek where it had lingered and whispered so only she could hear him, ‘Don’t overdo it, angel.’
As they moved across the hall the sound of voices and laughter drifted out through the open double doors of the drawing room.
‘Anyone I know here?’ Lucy asked.
‘Just a small gathering of friends.’
Letting Lucy go ahead of them, Nik fell into step beside his sister. ‘Hope you didn’t mind me bringing Lucy.’
‘Why should I mind?’
‘I thought you might have had me paired off with some good breeding stock...?’
‘I don’t—’ Tatiana stopped and gave a shake of her head, admitting ruefully, ‘I suppose I do, but I just want you to be happy and...like you used to be...before...’
Impelled by an inconvenient spasm of guilt, Nik stepped in to hug his sister as suddenly the charade with Lucy seemed less of a good idea. ‘I am happy.’
‘I like Lucy. Are you two together?’
Nik’s glance slid away. She looked so hopeful that, although this had been the idea, he felt reluctant to raise her hopes, knowing full well they were false ones. ‘Early days,’ he prevaricated slickly.
‘I just hope Lucy won’t be bored silly,’ Tatiana fretted, glancing towards the model who was walking through the double doors. ‘It so happens that there is a woman here who might interest you—’
‘Just when I thought I might have misjudged you,’ he began sardonically.
‘Not in that way!’ Tatiana cut back. ‘She’s a good friend of mine.’
‘And you wouldn’t wish me on a friend?’
She slung him an irritated look. ‘I just want you to set a good example when you meet her, and give a really generous donation to the charity—set a good example for the others.’
‘Another of your worthy causes, Ana?’
‘This is important to me, Nik.’
‘Fine, I’ll be generous.’
* * *
Chloe glanced at the clock...maybe he was a no show? Annoyed with herself for caring one way or the other, she turned her back on the doorway and focused her attention fully on the man beside her, a middle-aged Greek man who ran a property development company and seemed genuinely interested in the charity.
‘I admire your enthusiasm but, and I don’t want to be negative, aren’t you being a little overambitious? Have you costed it up properly? The premises alone would—’
‘Yes suitable premises, especially here in London, will be difficult.’
‘Which is where I come in?’
Her smile glimmered. ‘Your specialist knowledge and advice would be much appreciated.’
‘And my money?’ he added shrewdly.
Chloe’s dimples appeared. ‘I know that Tatiana has already spoken to you about...sorry, I really can’t do this.’
The recipient of her half-empty glass of champagne looked startled and then amused as Chloe popped the finger food she had been holding into her mouth, swallowed, then smiled. ‘That’s better!’ she said as she held out her hand for her glass.
Tipping his head, her companion replaced the crystal wine cup in it.
‘Mostly I can multitask,’ she told him cheerfully. ‘I can do food or drink but not both at the same time. You wouldn’t believe how many outfits I’ve emptied glasses of wine down, which makes it sound as though I always wander round with a glass of pinot in my hand, which I don’t.’ She delivered another smile. ‘I can assure you that your donation will be in sober and sensible hands.’
The older man gave an appreciative chuckle at her tactics. ‘Nice try, but I don’t recall saying yes.’
Chloe conceded his point with a nod. ‘But you didn’t say no either and I’m an optimist.’
This time the man’s chuckle was loud enough to divert some of the attention currently being given to the model who was making her entrance. ‘So let me get this right, you’d like me to let you have the lease on several buildings for a fraction of what they are worth, and what do I get?’
‘A warm glow knowing you’ve done the right thing? Or, failing that, the sort of publicity that money can’t buy? The sort of publicity that comes from having your company represent the caring face of capitalism,’ Chloe said, thinking wryly that she was getting quite good at this.
The man gave her an approving look tinged for the first time with respect. ‘I think we should schedule a meeting, Lady—’
‘Call me Chloe,’ she cut in quickly.
He tipped his head in acknowledgment of her request. ‘Right, Chloe, how about...?’
As the man’s eyes moved over her head and his voice trailed away Chloe turned to see what had snatched his attention. The answer was immediately obvious in the shape of a glamorous redhead in a glittering gown more suited to a red carpet event than a dinner party.
Immediately tolerant of her companion’s distraction, she turned to study the new arrival with some curiosity. In her experience people you had only previously seen beautifully lit on the screen or airbrushed in magazines rarely lived up to expectations, but Lucy Cavendish did and then some.
She looked beyond her hostess and the model to see if Lucy had come with someone. The woman’s past boyfriends had included not one but two Hollywood A-listers, a Russian oligarch and the heir to a banking fortune, so Chloe was expecting a handsome face or serious money, someone who might be interested in donating to a good cause, perhaps?
She got neither...or rather actually what she got was both!
What she also got when she saw that Lucy’s date was Nik was a jolt similar to the occasion her hairdryer had given her an electric shock, times a hundred. A home-made and dangerously uncontrolled defibrillation that felt as if a hammer had landed on her chest and made her limbs feel weak.
But this was fine; she could totally deal with it...
Not dealing with it, Chloe!
Ignoring the mocking voice in her head, she took a deep breath, straightened her slender square shoulders, cleared her throat and readjusted the chunky necklace of raw amethyst slices that hid the pulse pounding at the base of her throat.
Breathe...she told herself, so she did, and for good measure she focused on the positive.
The worst was over and, as worsts went, seeing the man you’d made the mistake of sleeping with without knowing his full name was, on the scale of things, pretty low-key. A couple of minutes and her nervous system would catch up with the message and by tomorrow she’d be laughing—all right, maybe smiling about it.
But that was tomorrow; being realistic today, as in the next sixty seconds, she was aiming for a less ambitious goal. Her legs stopping shaking would be a good start.
She stifled a stab of impatience; her nervous system was getting this situation way out of proportion. After all, what was the worst that could happen?
And what was the worst anyway: him remembering her or him not?
Her mobile lips quirked into a smile as she considered the alternatives. An awkward reunion or a hit to her ego?
Did it really matter?
The fact that she could even ask herself the question was a sign of how much she’d changed in a little over a year. There had been a time when, despite the outward confidence she projected, what people thought about her had mattered, and she