The Tycoon's Trophy Mistress. Lee WilkinsonЧитать онлайн книгу.
through Queens, which seemed to be mainly residential, she queried, ‘How far is it?’
‘About fifteen miles to mid-Manhattan. It’ll take about an hour, depending on the traffic.’
Though aware that she should be using the time to advantage Charlotte could think of nothing else to say, and once again very conscious of the man by her side she looked resolutely through the car window.
For his part, his first surging excitement now leashed by his better judgement, Daniel was content to simply have her by his side.
Earlier, on the plane, the urge to hold her in his arms had been so great that he had thrown caution to the winds.
He had felt her momentary withdrawal, her tenseness and, expecting the worst, had braced himself for an open rejection.
When it hadn’t come he had been both pleased and puzzled. Either she had decided to forgive and forget or she was playing some deep game of her own.
Whichever, it seemed that, in the short term at least, life was going to be far from dull.
CHAPTER THREE
AS THEY approached Manhattan, though Charlotte had seen enough pictures to make it reasonably familiar, she still caught her breath at the sight of the city decked all in sparkling white.
‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ she exclaimed.
‘I think so,’ he agreed.
Her reason for being there momentarily forgotten, she turned to him in excitement. ‘I thought I knew what to expect, but I hadn’t imagined anything quite like this.’
Pleased and relieved that she liked his city, he said, ‘New York has so many different faces, so many moods, that it’s always able to surprise even the people who call it home. That’s one of the reasons I enjoy living here.’
His comment reminded her of something she still wasn’t sure about, and she asked, ‘Perhaps you can tell me where I’ll be living? Mr Telford mentioned a company flat, but I’ve no idea where it is.’
‘The company flat is at our headquarters in the Lloyd Wolfe building, which is situated Uptown on Central Park East.’
‘Is that where you live?’
‘No. I live in Lower Manhattan.’
‘Oh!’ It would have suited her purpose better if he’d been living in the same building.
‘You sound disappointed.’
He seemed able to pick up the slightest inflection she thought uncomfortably, and hastened to deny. ‘Not at all. It’s just that for some reason I’d expected you to have a penthouse on Fifth Avenue.’
‘I did for a while but it didn’t really suit me, so I moved… Sure you’re not disappointed?’
‘No, of course not. Why should I be?’ Then, seeing he was far from convinced, she added, ‘I’m just surprised. I can’t imagine anyone not enjoying living on Fifth Avenue.’
‘I did, in a way, but as well as being relatively run-of-the-mill the penthouse always seemed a touch impersonal, like living in a hotel.
‘Now I have a house that’s different, as well as being very personal. It’s in an area usually referred to as The Villages.’
‘The Villages?’ she echoed uncertainly.
‘They’re a collection of neighbourhoods just west of Broadway.’
‘Isn’t that quite a way from your headquarters?’
‘Not too far, as the crow flies.’
‘Do you go in every day?’
‘Yes, unless I’m away on business.’
‘And you don’t find the traffic a pain?’
‘It can be, of course, but a chauffeur-driven car does a great deal to mitigate it.’
‘Is that where I’ll be working?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, if I’m living on the spot I won’t have far to travel,’ she remarked with a smile.
‘Unfortunately, because of the very short notice, the accommodation there is still occupied.’
‘Oh…’
‘It should be vacated in the next two or three days, and then you’ll be able to move in and get settled before Christmas.
‘In the meantime, I thought you could stay at my place.’
‘Stay at your place?’ she echoed, knowing she should be pleased, but momentarily horrified and sounding it.
‘Like most big cities, New York can be a bit lonely and unnerving,’ he went on smoothly, ‘especially if you’re on your own and don’t know the ropes. So, rather than book you into a hotel, I thought you could have the small self-contained suite that my housekeeper used to occupy… Unless, of course, you have any serious objections to living under my roof for a short time?’
Recovering a little, and somewhat reassured that he’d described it as a self-contained suite, she stammered, ‘W-well… No.’
Delighted by the relative lack of opposition, he remarked quizzically, ‘I thought the press might have managed to convince you that no woman is safe when I’m around?’
She didn’t need convincing, Charlotte thought bitterly, she already knew that he was a ruthless womanizer.
Managing to look amused, she said coolly, ‘I don’t believe all I read.’
‘In that case, we’ll call it settled.’
‘Thank you.’
‘It’s my pleasure, I assure you.’ He smiled into her eyes, a personal communication that emphasized the fact that he was already interested in her as a woman rather than just an employee.
Returning his smile, Charlotte reflected with a surge of triumph that things seemed to be going her way. Thanks to the company flat being occupied, she might have several more days of what should be fairly close contact to try and increase that interest.
His grey eyes were still looking into hers and, afraid he might read her thoughts, she said quickly, ‘Won’t you tell me about The Villages?’
‘They’re wonderful places to live, with first-class restaurants, good theatre and a great variety of night-life. The best known is undoubtedly Greenwich Village, with Washington Square as its heart…’
He talked knowledgeably about The Villages and their history until they reached an area where the streets no longer conformed to the rigid grid system and had a friendly, small-town feel to them.
The main thoroughfare, with its boutiques and cafés, its bookstores and art galleries, was busy and bustling with Christmas shoppers.
Snow was piled along the edges of the sidewalks, white and uneven, like miniature mountain ranges and, despite the sunshine, a row of icicles hung from an upper storey windowsill.
The stores were bright with decorations and tinsel. In one window a red-coated Santa rode on a loaded sleigh pulled by prancing reindeer, while in another elves and furry woodland creatures tied a green scarf around the neck of a carrot-nosed snowman.
Leaving the main shopping centre and most of the traffic behind them, they reached a quieter residential area and turned left into Carver Street.
A cul-de-sac lined with bare snowy trees and elegant brownstones, Carver Street meandered a little, like an amiable drunk.
At the end, standing detached and fronting on to the street, was a small three-storey house with a steeply-pitched roof and overhanging eaves.
It was built of pink and blue bricks in a herringbone pattern and its garden