Jessica Hart - His Temporary Cinderella

‘It must have been a hard time for you,’ said Philippe after a moment. ‘I know how I felt when my brother died. I wanted everything to just … stop. And I wasn’t a child, like you.’

He set his glass carefully on the table. ‘Lotty was good to me then, too. Everyone understood how tragic it was for my father to lose his perfect son, but Lotty was the only one who thought about what it might be like for me to lose a brother. She’s a very special person,’ he said. ‘She deserves a chance to live life on her own terms for a change. I know this is a mad plan,’ he went on, deliberately lightening the tone, ‘but it’s worth a shot, don’t you think?’

‘I do.’ Caro was happy to follow his lead. ‘If nothing else, it will convince George and Melanie that I’ve moved on to much bigger and better things!’

She shot George a victorious look, but Philippe shook his head. ‘Stop that,’ he said.

‘Stop what?’

‘Stop looking at him.’ He tutted. ‘When I take a girl out to dinner, I don’t expect her to spend her whole time thinking about another man!’

‘I’m not!’

‘You’re supposed to be thinking about me,’ said Philippe, ignoring her protest. ‘George is never going to believe we’re having a wild and passionate affair if he sees you sneaking glances at him.’

‘He’s never going to believe we’re having a wild and passionate affair anyway,’ said Caro, ruffled. ‘He thinks I’m too boring for that.’

‘Then why don’t you show him just how wrong he is?’ Philippe leant forward over the table and fixed Caro with his silver gaze. He really had extraordinary eyes, she found herself thinking irrelevantly. Wolf’s eyes, their lightness accentuated by the darkness of his features and the fringe of black lashes. It was easier to think about that than about the way her heart was thudding in her throat at his nearness.

‘How do you suggest I do that?’ she said, struggling to hold on to her composure. ‘We can hardly get down and dirty under the table!’

A faint contemptuous smile curled the corners of Philippe’s mouth. ‘Well, that would certainly make the point, but I was thinking of rather subtle ways of suggesting that we can’t keep our hands off each other. For a start, you could keep your attention fixed on me, rather than on him! If we were really sleeping together, we’d be absorbed in each other.’

‘It doesn’t always have to be about you, you know,’ grumbled Caro. ‘Anyway, I am looking at you.’ She fixed her eyes at him. ‘There. Satisfied?’

‘You could make it look as if you adore me and can’t wait for me to drag you back to bed.’

‘Oh, that’s easy.’ Caro summoned a suitably besotted expression and batted her lashes at him.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Philippe.

‘Nothing’s the matter! I’m looking adoring!’

‘You look constipated,’ he said frankly. ‘Come on, you must be able to do better than that.’

‘You’re the expert on seduction,’ said Caro, sulking. ‘You do it.’

‘OK.’ Philippe reached across the table for her hand, turned it over and lifted it. ‘Watch and learn,’ he said, pressing a kiss into her palm.

Caro sucked in a breath as a current of warmth shot up her arm and washed through her. Her scalp was actually tingling with it. Bad sign. Willing the heat to fade, she struggled to keep her voice even.

‘Oh, that old chestnut,’ she said as lightly as she could. ‘I would have done the hand-kissing thing, but I thought it would be too boring.’

‘Kissing’s never boring,’ said Philippe. Now he was playing with her fingers, looking straight into her eyes, brushing his lips across her knuckles until she squirmed in her seat. ‘Not the way we do it, anyway. Or that’s what we want it to look like. We want everyone to think that we’ve just fallen out of bed, don’t we? They ought to be looking at us and seeing that we can’t keep our hands off each other. That we can’t wait until we get home and I can undress you, very, very slowly, until you beg me to make love to you again.’

The sound of his voice and the tantalising caress of his fingers were doing alarming things to Caro. Heat was uncoiling in the pit of her belly and her mouth was dry. She had to get herself back under control.

‘I never beg,’ she said, but not nearly as steadily as she would have liked.

Philippe looked into her eyes and smiled. ‘You do when you’re with me.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Caro, but his smile only deepened. She could see the candlelight flickering in the silver eyes, and her heart was thumping so loudly she was afraid the other diners would turn round and complain about the noise.

‘Yes, you do, because I’m the only one who knows that behind closed doors you’re a wild, passionate woman.’ His voice was a tangible thing, velvet smoothing seductively over her skin. It would be so easy to succumb to it, to the warm, sure hands and the wickedly attractive smile, and Caro had to physically brace herself against it.

‘Gosh, do women really fall for this stuff?’ she asked.

‘It’s working, isn’t it?’

For one horrible moment, Caro wondered if he could see her toes curling. ‘Working?’

‘You haven’t been looking at what’s-his-name at all.’ It was true. She had completely forgotten about George for a while there. ‘But he’s been looking at you,’ Philippe went on in the same disturbingly arousing voice, ‘and he’s very much afraid that you’ve found yourself a much, much better lover.’

Caro’s eyes flickered to George, who was looking as if he’d been stuffed. Maybe there was something in this technique of Philippe’s after all.

Philippe sat back smugly. ‘And that’s how it’s done,’ he said. ‘Now you have a go.’

Her hand was throbbing where his lips had grazed her skin. Flustered by Philippe’s abrupt transition from lover to teacher, Caro tucked the stray strands of hair behind her ears and assumed a nonchalance she wasn’t feeling.

‘Well, I would, but the food will be arriving any second and I don’t want to spoil your appetite.’

‘Coward,’ he said softly. ‘Besides, it’s good practice for you. You’re going to have to do better than screwing up your face if you’re going to convince the Dowager Blanche that we’re mad about each other.’

‘Oh, all right.’ Caro took a fortifying sip of her champagne and moistened her lips nervously while she thought, and saw Philippe’s gaze fix on her mouth. She hadn’t even started yet! Surely it couldn’t be as easy as that?

Leaning forward, she rested her arms on the table, hugged them together and tried a seductive smile. She felt a fool, but Philippe’s eyes dropped to her cleavage, and his eyes darkened unmistakably.

Encouraged, Caro felt around with her foot and managed to hook the toe of her shoe around his ankle. With a little manoeuvring, she could rub her foot tantalisingly up and down his calf. It felt awkward but it seemed to be working.

She waited for Philippe to burst out laughing, but he didn’t. There was just the suspicion of a smile around his mouth as the light gaze returned to her face.

‘How am I doing?’ she asked.

‘I think you may be a natural.’

Was he being sarcastic? Caro eyed him suspiciously but it was impossible to tell what he was really thinking.

It was a relief when their starters arrived and she could sit back. Funny, she had forgotten about how hungry she was while Philippe had been kissing her fingers. Now she picked up her fork to dig into her wild mushroom risotto and discovered that for possibly the only time in her life, her appetite had deserted her.

But Caro wasn’t going to waste her one and only opportunity to eat at the Star and Garter. She made herself savour the food and refused to let herself think about Philippe sitting opposite her with his warm hands and his warm mouth.