At The Greek Tycoon's Bidding. Cathy WilliamsЧитать онлайн книгу.
a swan and an ugly duckling.’
‘Point proved. Is she aware that you constantly make comparisons between yourself and your sister?’
‘Mum died seven years ago.’ She waited for the meaningless expressions of regret but none were forthcoming. Instead, Theo held her gaze thoughtfully before giving her a quick nod. ‘She was ill for about two years before she finally passed away. That’s why I never finished my education. I needed to get working.’
‘And what was your sister doing at the time?’
‘Claire was in London, doing an acting course and some waitressing.’
‘And you were left no assets that would have helped you with your own ambitions?’ Against his will, he was curious about the dynamics of her family. Without looking away from her, he ordered a bottle of wine and the fish of the day, which she ordered as well.
Heather flushed. ‘Claire needed what little there was far more than I did at the time. She promised that when she made it big she would pay me back—not that the money ever mattered. Mum was gone and I didn’t really care about dividing what she’d left us, which wasn’t very much anyway.’
‘And has she made it big?’ Theo asked casually, knowing what answer he would receive. Sure enough, it was no surprise to discover that dreams of stardom were languishing across the Atlantic. No surprise either to discover that the money had never managed to wing its way back to its original owner, who seemed stunningly content with the situation.
‘So you are happy to compare yourself unfavourably to someone whose only claim to fame apparently lies in her looks?’ Theo mused over a glass of wine.
‘She also happens to be a very warm person,’ Heather defended hotly. Mostly, she conceded to herself, when she was getting her own way. Her selfishness had always been a combination of infuriating and endearing. It had been hard to lose her temper with Claire, and the few times that she had she had met with a brick wall of plaintive incomprehension. ‘Anyway, I don’t compare myself to Claire. I just admire her looks. Don’t you have brothers you sometimes compare yourself to?’ It was such a ridiculous notion that she couldn’t help but grin. ‘No. I can’t picture you comparing yourself unfavourably to anybody. You’re way too self-confident for that. I guess you’d expect people to compare themselves to you.’
‘No siblings,’ Theo informed her flatly, his tone of voice warning her away from any further probing into his personal life, but Heather was gazing at him thoughtfully.
‘That’s very sad for you. I know that Claire doesn’t live here, but it’s just good knowing that she’s with me in spirit, so to speak. What about your parents? Where do they live? Over here? They must be very proud of you, what with you being so successful in your job…’
Women didn’t make a habit of probing into Theo’s personal life. In fact, women knew when to back off without having to be told. Something in his expression had always been very good at warning them about the boundaries he laid down. He wined them and dined them and treated them with extravagant gestures that were wildly out of most people’s orbit. In return he asked only for relationships without complications. His life was hectic enough without having to deal with demands from the opposite sex.
Heather didn’t appear to have the correct instincts warning her to drop the subject. In fact, she was looking at him with the keen enthusiasm of a puppy dog waiting for a treat.
Just as well she was of no interest to him sexually. Theo was convinced that if you fed women with too much personal information, it engendered illusions of permanence. They thought that they had somehow crawled under your skin and were therefore in the right position to stage a complete takeover.
Since this woman was not in the category of a fisherman trawling a net in the hope of netting the fish, he didn’t immediately succumb to the automatic instinct to shut down. Instead, he returned her gaze and shrugged.
‘My father died when I was a boy and my mother does not live over here. She lives in Greece.’
‘Which, of course, is where you’re from…’
Theo permitted himself a faint smile. ‘Why of course…?’
‘Oh, all those stereotypes of Greek men being tall, dark and handsome.’ Heather grinned at the bemused expression on his face. She was just teasing, but she wondered how many times in his life he had ever been teased. ‘Does your mother come and visit you often?’
‘You ask a lot of questions.’
Their food arrived and was placed in front of them; their glasses were refilled with wine which Heather felt quite free to drink considering she was now out of a job.
‘People have interesting stories. How else do you find out who they are if you don’t ask questions?’ Her appetite, which should have been sated after the sandwiches, stirred into life. Naturally she wasn’t going to guzzle the lot, but it wasn’t often that she found herself sitting in a restaurant of this calibre. Somehow it would have seemed rude to be dismissive of the food.
‘So does she?’ Heather persisted.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Your mother. Does she come over and visit?’
Theo shook his head in pure exasperation. ‘Occasionally,’ he finally conceded. ‘She visits my country house, and when she does I commute to London. She hates the city. In fact, she has never been here. There—satisfied?’
Heather nodded. For the moment, she wanted to say, before remembering that there would be no more moments, that in fact she was only here because he felt duty-bound to send her on her way with a bit more concern than he would probably otherwise have shown because he had effectively cost her her cleaning job. Which suddenly brought her back down to earth and the reality of losing an income, small though it was, which was necessary to her. She closed her knife and fork on the half-eaten plate of food and cupped her chin in one hand.
‘You’re finished?’ Theo asked in amazement.
Heather felt a little jab of hurt coil deep inside her. Through the shield of her naturally sunny disposition she suddenly had a bleak vision of an alternative reality. The reality that was coldly pointing out that while she had nurtured pleasant fantasies about this tall, aggressively handsome man, while she had always made sure to clean his floor when she knew that he was going to be around, he had never once glanced in her direction—would not have recognised her if she had landed opposite him on a desert island. And while she luxuriated in the thrill of being in his company now, unexpected as it was, the thrill was not mutual. To him she was nothing but an overweight woman whose company he was probably itching to get away from.
‘Did you think that I would carry on eating till I exploded?’ Heather said, far more sharply than she had intended. She softened her uncharacteristically sarcastic reply with a rueful smile. ‘Sorry, I was just thinking about what I shall do now that I no longer have a job to go to in the evenings.’
‘I can’t believe that you really have to hold down two jobs to survive. Surely you can cut back on one or two luxuries…make ends meet that way…?’
Heather laughed. Rich, warm laughter that had a few heads turning in her direction.
‘You don’t live in the real world, Mr Miquel…’
‘Theo…’
‘Well, you don’t. I don’t have any luxuries to cut back on. Friends come over for meals and we watch television and maybe drink a couple of bottles of wine on a Saturday night, and in summer we go on picnics in the park. I don’t do theatres or restaurants or even cinemas very often. Actually, I don’t have an awful lot of free time anyway, which is probably a good thing when it comes to balancing my finances…’ The look of horror on his face was growing by the second, but Heather was unfazed by that. Of course he wouldn’t understand the world she lived in. Why should he? She probably only had a vague inkling of his. ‘I prefer to save up for my course rather than blow money on clothes