Lovers In The Afternoon. Carole MortimerЧитать онлайн книгу.
and never stop. There was so much about this situation that was funny.
‘Miss Grant?’
She frowned up at him. ‘Why do you keep calling me that?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s your name, isn’t it?’
‘Leonie Grant, yes,’ she nodded in exaggerated movements. ‘I—Hic. I—Hic. Oh no,’ she groaned her humiliation as her loud hiccups filled the room. She really was making a fool out of herself—more so than usual, if that were possible! She should never have got out of bed today, should have buried her head beneath the bedclothes and stayed there until fate decided to be kind to her again. If it ever did, she groaned as she hiccuped again.
‘Maybe the whisky was a bad idea,’ Adam said in amusement, going over to the bar to pour her a glass of water.
Leonie gave him a look that spoke volumes before swallowing the water, almost choking as a hiccup caught her mid-swallow, spitting water everywhere, including over one black leather shoe as Adam Faulkner’s leg swung in front of her as he once again sat on the edge of his desk. ‘Oh dear,’ she began to mop at the shoe with a tissue from her bag, becoming even more agitated when several pieces of the tissue stuck to the wet surface.
She closed her eyes, wishing the scene would evaporate, that she would find it had all been a bad dream. But when she opened her eyes again the black shoe dotted with delicate yellow tissue was still there, and the man wearing the shoe was beginning to chuckle. Leonie looked up at him dazedly, liking the warmth in his eyes, the way they crinkled at the corners as he laughed, a dimple appearing in one lean cheek, his teeth very white and even against his tanned skin.
Mrs Carlson entered the room after the briefest knock, breaking the moment of intimacy. ‘I’ve checked your appointment book, Mr Faulkner, and you’re free at twelve o’clock or three o’clock.’
‘Twelve o’clock, I think,’ he still smiled. ‘Then Miss Grant and I can go out to lunch afterwards.’
‘Oh but I——’
‘Book a table, would you? He cut across Leonie’s protest, smiling at his secretary, much to her obvious surprise. ‘My usual place. And you may as well leave for the evening now, Miss Grant and I are just going to dinner.’
‘Er—yes, Mr Faulkner.’ The older woman gave Leonie a curious look, seeming to give a mental shrug before leaving the room.
‘She’s wondering why you could possibly want to take me to dinner,’ Leonie sighed, wondering the same thing herself. But at least the suggestion had stopped her hiccups!
Adam stood up after dusting the tissue from his shoe. ‘It’s the least I can do after your ordeal in the lift.’
‘But that was my fault——’
‘Nonsense,’ he humoured.
Leonie blinked at the determination in his face. ‘Why should you want to take me out to dinner?’
‘Miss Grant——’
‘Will you stop calling me that!’
‘Would you prefer Leonie?’ he queried softly, locking his desk drawers and picking up his briefcase in preparation for leaving for the evening.
‘Yes,’ she snapped.
‘Then you must call me Adam,’ he invited huskily.
‘I’m well aware of your name,’ she bit out impatiently. The whisky may have gone to her head but she wasn’t that drunk! And she had no idea why this man should want to take her out to dinner, they——
‘Then please use it,’ he urged, as his hand on her elbow brought her to her feet.
Leonie swayed slightly, falling against him, flinching away from the hard warmth of his body. ‘Please, I don’t want to go out to dinner,’ she protested as he propelled her from the room at his side, the top floor of the building strangely in silence, Mrs Carlson having followed his instruction and left for the evening, the other employees having left some time ago.
Adam didn’t release her arm. ‘When did you last eat?’ he asked pointedly as she swayed again.
‘I had some toast for breakfast this morning. I need to diet,’ she defended heatedly as the grey eyes looked her over disapprovingly.
‘You’re too thin,’ he stated bluntly.
‘I’m a size ten,’ she told him proudly.
‘Definitely too thin,’ he repeated arrogantly. ‘I happen to be one of those men who prefers his woman to have some meat on her bones.’
His woman? His woman! Just who did he think he was? ‘I happen to like being thin,’ she told him irritably.
He arched dark brows. ‘Do you also like starving to death?’ he drawled.
It was her weakness for good food that had pushed her up to a size fourteen in the past, and she had no intention of giving in to that weakness again, not when it had taken so much effort to lose the excess weight. ‘I’ll survive,’ she muttered.
‘Will you be okay in the lift now that it’s working properly?’ Adam asked as the lift doors opened to them invitingly.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she dismissed his concern. ‘Although the way today is going so far it could break down on us again,’ she said ruefully.
Adam smiled down at her as they were confined in the lift together. ‘I can’t think of anyone I would rather be stuck in the lift with,’ he said throatily.
Leonie gave him a sharp look, expecting sarcasm but finding only warm invitation in the dark grey eyes. He was flirting with her, actually flirting with her!
‘Pity,’ he drawled as they arrived safely on the ground floor, stepping into the carpeted reception area, nodding to the man on night security, guiding Leonie to the parking area, opening the passenger door of the sporty BMW for her, the top to the pale blue car back in the heat of the day. He took her briefcase from her and threw it in the back with his own before climbing in next to her, starting the engine with a roar. ‘Would you like the top up or down?’ he enquired politely.
She touched her hair ruefully. ‘I think it’s beyond redemption, so down, please.’
Adam glanced at her as he drove the car towards the exit. ‘You have beautiful hair.’
Leonie tensed at the unexpected compliment, her breath held in her throat.
‘The style suits you,’ he added softly.
The tension left her in a relieved sigh. ‘Thank you.’
Conversation was virtually impossible as they drove to the restaurant, although the fresh air did clear Leonie’s head somewhat, giving her time to wonder what she was doing on her way to dinner with this man. She should have been more assertive in her refusal, shouldn’t have allowed herself to be manoeuvred in this way. And yet she knew she was curious, couldn’t think what possible reason Adam had for wanting to take her out to dinner. And his tolerance with the mishaps that just seemed to happen to her was too good to last!
She had been to the restaurant before that he took her to, but it had been a year ago, and hopefully no one would remember that she was the woman who had tripped on her way back from powdering her nose and pushed some poor unfortunate diner’s face into his dinner!
‘Good evening, Mr Faulkner,’ the maitre d’ greeted warmly, his eyes widening warily as he saw his companion. ‘Madam,’ he greeted stiffly.
He remembered her! It had been over a year ago now, and this man still remembered her. He probably didn’t have many people who came here and assaulted another diner for no reason!
‘Do we have to eat here?’ she demanded of Adam in desperation as they followed the other man to their table.
His brows rose.