Katie Oliver - The Dating Mr Darcy Trilogy - Prada and Prejudice / Love and Liability / Mansfield Lark

Suddenly she remembered. Rhys and his infuriating, persistent calls…she’d thrown her mobile on a shelf in the pantry. She closed her eyes. Bloody hell! Would this endless, endless day never end?

She couldn’t stay here. It wasn’t that late, and she was more than halfway home, but it was too far to walk. She eyed the dark street uneasily. There was a petrol station nearby, wasn’t there?

Natalie bit her lip. She’d lock up her car and walk. Even if the station was closed, they’d have a phone box, and she could ring mum to come and fetch her. She couldn’t stay here.

Resolutely, she got out and locked the door. She gripped her handbag and began to walk quickly down the street. She heard the echo of her high-heeled footsteps, and the distant swish of cars on the A4.

Somewhere behind her, growing closer, a motorcycle approached. She walked a bit faster. The low growl of the engine grew louder, and she glanced over her shoulder to see the motorbike slowing down, until it drew up alongside her.

Natalie looked back nervously but kept walking. She couldn’t see the rider’s face; a visored helmet obscured it.

Her legs turned to jelly. Should she run? Scream? Dial 999? No, scratch that, she couldn’t call for help – she didn’t have her bloody mobile. Stupid, stupid—

“Natalie?”

She came to a stop, her heart beating wildly. “Rh-Rhys?”

He lifted the visor. “I saw your car abandoned back there,” he said, concerned. “What happened?”

Relief washed over her. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m really glad to see you!” she said fervently. “I ran out of petrol… I didn’t have my mobile—”

“So I heard,” he said, his words grim. “Get on, I’ll take you home. You can tell me about it on the way.”

Sheepishly she took the helmet he held out. “This is getting to be a habit, you rescuing me. How did you know to come looking?”

“After I left, I rang to see that you got back safely. Imagine my surprise when your mum answered.” He glared at her. “She found your phone in the pantry.”

She dropped her gaze, embarrassed. “Well, I didn’t want to talk to you earlier, did I?” She knew what was coming next – the bloody lecture.

And the thing was, she reflected, this time she absolutely deserved it.

He opened his mouth to ask her what the hell she’d been thinking, putting herself in such danger, did she know what might have happened? But he caught sight of her face, pale and exhausted, and let out a short breath.

“Never mind. I’m just glad you’re all right. Now put on that helmet, and let’s get you home.”

Chapter 10

The sound of the door buzzer echoed through the flat the next morning. Natalie lifted one side of her eye mask to see sunshine streaming in through her bedroom curtains.

“Coming,” she croaked as she rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. She peered into the mirror. Crikey – could definitely be better.

She splashed water on her face and tugged at the wrinkled Blondie T-shirt she’d slept in – second night in a row, must do laundry – and went to the door. The buzzer sounded again.

“Hold on!” she muttered, annoyed. Tarquin was impatient. And early . Natalie already regretted asking him to go clothes shopping with her. Much nicer to have a nice lie-in, then a late lunch, perhaps pop in to Chanel for a look around…

She pressed the speaker button. “Come up.” She barely had time to drag a comb through her hair and brush her teeth when Tarquin knocked on the door.

“You won’t believe it, Tark,” Natalie said as she swung the flat door open, “but I forgot about going shopping today—”

“You, forget about shopping? Impossible.”

It took a moment to process the fact that it wasn’t Tark who stood in her doorway, but Rhys Gordon.

Rhys bloody Gordon! He looked at her as if he’d never seen a girl in a T-shirt and…well, to be honest…not much else.

She crossed her arms self-consciously against her bra-less chest. “Rhys! What are you doing here?”

“I’ve had your car filled with petrol and brought round. I tried to call,” he added, “but your mobile’s turned off and your telephone’s been disconnected.”

Although he didn’t say it, she knew he longed to criticise her for these latest infractions.

But all he said was, “Sorry if I woke you. I know it’s a bit early, but I’m on my way in to work.”

She leaned against the doorjamb. “I really appreciate your help last night,” she said, and meant it. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t come along.”

“Check your petrol gauge now and then. And don’t hide your phone in the bloody pantry. I’m just glad I was able to help.”

She opened the door a bit wider and stood aside. “At least come in and let me give you a cup of tea — or coffee? —before you go. I owe you that much.”

He nodded. “I wouldn’t say no to a coffee. Thanks.”

“Let me grab a pair of jeans first. I’ll be right back.”

“I can’t stay long,” he called out after her. “The bloke from the petrol station followed me in your car; I’ve got to take him back.”

“Is he perched on the back of your motorbike?”

“No, I’ve got the Jag.”

Natalie emerged from the bedroom five minutes later wearing jeans and a T-shirt, with her hair sorted and a slick of lipstick on her mouth. “I’ll get that coffee. Won’t take me a second, it’s only instant.”

She switched the kettle on and spooned Nescafe into two mismatched mugs. “Sorry I don’t have real coffee. I need to do a shop but I haven’t had time.”

“Oh, you cook?”

“You needn’t sound so surprised,” she said, indignant. “Yes, I cook. I make a great spaghetti Bolognese. And my Victoria sponge is better than mum’s.”

The kettle whistled. She poured hot water into their cups and handed one to Rhys.

“Thanks. Stop by my office later and we’ll go over those numbers.”

“I can’t. I’m going shopping with Tark this morning.” At his puzzled look she added, “Tarquin Magnus Campbell. He’s heir to the fourth earl of Draemar and he’s my dearest friend. He and Wren are getting married in Scotland next month, so of course I need a dress…and a wedding gift.”

Rhys narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“What do you mean?” she demanded.

“If you need clothes, it means you plan to spend money. That’s never a good thing.”

“Ha bloody ha. Perhaps I might stop by your office after lunch? You could show me the figures then.”

He nodded. “I’ll see you later, then.”

The buzzer sounded again. “That’s Tarquin,” Natalie announced. She walked over and pressed the button. “Come up.”

“I should go,” Rhys said. “Thanks for the coffee.” He added pointedly, “Try to buy something on sale. And if your car ever breaks down again, promise me you’ll lock the doors and stay put.”

Natalie’s gaze collided with his. He really did have the most penetrating blue eyes. “You know,” she blurted, “you’re almost nice when you want to be.”

He raised his brow. “Only almost? I’ll have to work on that.”

Several rapid-fire knocks sounded on the door.

Natalie let out an exasperated breath. “It’s like Waterloo Station in here this morning! Excuse me.”

She left Rhys in the kitchen and hurried down the hallway to open the door, then froze. “Dominic!” She pulled the door shut behind her and stepped into the hall. “What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed.

Dominic leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb. He reeked of stale Gitanes and whiskey. “We need to talk, Nat.”