Jill Mansell - Sheer Mischief

But he wasn’t stopping. ‘Don’t,’ she protested, pushing his hand away. ‘I’m too fat.’

‘Rubbish!’ replied Bruno firmly. The female predilection for dieting was a source of constant irritation to him, particularly when they tried to do it in his restaurant. ‘Everyone else is too thin.’

Out of sheer desperation, she said, ‘Where’s Nina?’

‘Gone to visit her parents.’ He gave her a soulful look.

‘She comes back on Tuesday morning. I’m all alone for two whole days.’

‘You poor thing.’ Janey smiled at the expression on his face. ‘Whatever will you do with yourself?’

He knew what he’d like to do, but he also realized that he would have to tread very carefully indeed. Janey Sinclair was one of those rare females who seemed genuinely unaware of her own attractions. Since getting to know her, he had been struck by the aura of sadness surrounding her, and impressed by her refusal to seek sympathy from those who knew what she had gone through.

She was certainly no holiday bimbo. If she had been, he would have seduced and discarded her long ago. As it was, however, the sense of intrigue and interest had been maintained. She was, in a way, forbidden fruit. Time and again Bruno had told himself that in view of his own track record he should simply leave it at that and not get involved, but the attraction was definitely there and he was expert enough to know that it was mutual. Behind the awkward, diffident exterior he sensed Janey’s own interest. It was heady stuff, all this self-denial and surface badinage. It had been years since he had experienced the pain and pleasure of such a slow-burning, tentative friendship. But at the same time Sunday and Monday stretched emptily ahead and he was certainly no saint ..

‘I’m too hot,’ he said, finishing off the Coke and eyeing her glistening, Ambre-Solaired body. ‘And if you stay here you’re going to burn. Come on, let’s go and get some lunch.’

It was a tempting offer. Hungrier than she’d realized and delighted at the prospect of company, Janey raised herself up on her elbows and said, ‘Where?’

‘My place.’

‘Oh.’ Nina wasn’t there. She wasn’t sure she should But—’

‘Oh dear,’ he mocked, sensing her doubt. ‘Now I’ve got you worried and you’re desperately trying to think o a diplomatic way to say no.’

Janey, floundering, felt her cheeks redden. ‘Well ...’

‘For heaven’s sake,’ said Bruno, sounding faintly exasperated. ‘Live a little. All I’m talking about is a spot of lunch. I’m not inviting you to have wild sex with me.

Embarrassed, she replied, ‘I didn’t think you were.’

‘Oh yes, you did.’ He grinned and helped her to hex feet. ‘But there’s no need to panic; you’ll be quite safe. Come on, let’s go.’

Like Janey, Bruno and Nina lived above the shop, but whereas her own flat was tiny, their apartment was both spacious and stylish.

Janey, who had never visited it before, was impressed. Immaculate white rugs on the tiled floors offset the lavender and green décor. Modern, semi-abstract paintings were ranged around the walls and well-tended plants spilled out of white porcelain pots. The main ceiling was palest lavender, exactly matching the two three-seater leather sofas, and the cat occupying the one closer to the windows was white with luminous green eyes.

‘You’re surprised,’ said Bruno, handing her an ice-stacked Pimm’s.

‘A bit,’ she admitted. The almost clinical perfection of the apartment was so at odds with languorous, faintly hippyish Nina.

But once again he seemed able to read her mind. ‘This is me. Nina isn’t bothered about interior design; she just goes along with my ideas.’ As far as Janey could make out, Nina went uncomplainingly along with most things. Following him into the well-equipped kitchen, she leaned against the wall and watched Bruno prepare lunch. There was something almost irresistible about a man who could cook and talk at the same time. Before she had a chance to put down her empty glass, he had refilled it and added an extra dash of gin for good measure.

The unaccustomed strength of the drink went straight to her head. By the time they sat down to eat, her knees were like cotton wool and she was feeling deliciously uninhibited.

Why aren’t you two married?’ she asked, intrigued. ‘I don’t make promises I can’t keep.’

‘So you aren’t faithful to Nina.’ Gosh, she couldn’t believe she’d actually said that. To make up for it, Janey tried to look disapproving, although the effect was slightly spoiled when she attempted to fork up a frond of radicchio and it slipped, landing on the pale green tablecloth instead.

This time his smile broadened. ‘Actually, I was thinking of the for richer, for poorer bit.’

‘Oh.’ She wondered if he was joking. It was difficult to tell, with Bruno.

But this time, it seemed, he was serious. ‘Nina’s the wealthy one,’ he explained guilelessly, the sweep of his arm encompassing both the apartment and the restaurant below. Then he shrugged. ‘She bought this place, I run it, and the arrangement suits us both. But if she didn’t have any money, well ...’

‘That’s terrible,’ Janey protested, but Bruno wasn’t in the least put out.

‘No it isn’t. It’s honest.’ Finishing his omelette and pushing his plate to one side, he lit a cigarette. ‘There are trade-offs in every relationship. Ours simply happen to involve money. And Nina does realize this,’ he added, pausing to execute a perfect smoke ring. ‘She understands. If she decided she didn’t like it she could always kick me out.’

The Brie omelette and tomato salad were delicious but Janey had lost her appetite. It was all very well for Bruno. He made it sound so simple and natural, but as far as she was concerned his theories were too unnervingly close for comfort. She wasn’t wealthy by any means, but after meeting Alan she had worked hard and long enough to acquire the lease on her own small shop and the flat which went with it. He, on the other hand, had been falling behind with the rent on his own shared apartment and taking on casual work only when it became absolutely necessary in order to eat. Surfing and water skiing, his two great passions in life, weren’t exactly profitable.

During the moments of dark despair following his disappearance, Janey had wondered uneasily whether she had ever been more than a convenient stop-gap, supplying bed and board to a man whose love she’d only imagined.

But she was here now, with Bruno, and she damn well wasn’t going to cry. He and Nina had an understanding: they were more of a business partnership than a real couple, and they weren’t even married. Taking another gulp of Pimm’s, she felt her own resolve weakening.

She’d been alone for eighteen months, mourning the loss of her husband and wondering if life would ever be truly enjoyable again. Maybe it was time she had a little fun. Maybe she should take the plunge and find out.

‘So your life is perfect,’ she said, her smile deliberately provocative. ‘You have everything you want.’

‘Pretty much.’ He nodded in agreement, those devastating bedroom eyes roaming lazily over her body. Janey shivered with sudden longing; it had been so long since she’d felt wanted.

Bruno certainly wanted her, but he had no intention of doing anything about it. Not yet, anyway. Tempting though the thought was, he knew that Janey had her preconceived ideas about him and that if he lived up to them this afternoon she would undoubtedly have her regrets by tomorrow. And he didn’t want their relationship prematurely curtailed by a guilt attack. Where Janey Sinclair was concerned, he had decided, a single afternoon of pleasure simply wouldn’t be enough.