The Right Mr Wrong

‘You always had a problem with me watching.’

She tensed, hoping to stop him from seeing her all-over tremble. She had always been aware of the way he watched her. ‘It’s not you,’ she lied sassily. ‘I don’t like anyone watching me work.’

‘In case you make a mistake?’

‘Not at all.’ She lied yet again. ‘I’m not afraid to make mistakes. I’ve made many.’ Too, too many.

‘Then you’re fine to write in front of me. Write my name.’

She shook her head. She wasn’t going to make more mistakes. She had to focus now.

‘You’re still a chicken,’ he jeered.

‘You’re confusing cowardice with being sensible.’ She had always tried to do the sensible thing. No shame in that, right? ‘And with these smudges?’ She held up her fingers. ‘Why would I waste my time and resources?’

He glanced at the table. ‘You’re really into all this?’

‘I want Aurelie to have what she wants.’

‘So you’ve not been put off weddings and all that’s wonderful about them?’

‘Of course not,’ she mocked. He was the cynical one, not she. ‘You think because my marriage didn’t work out, I’d go all bitter and anti?’

His lips twitched. ‘No. I just…wouldn’t have expected you to be so into weddings, I guess.’

‘I’m into other people’s weddings,’ she said smoothly, putting her pen back into its case. ‘And you’re still not into weddings at all.’

His shoulders lifted. ‘And yet here I am. Happy to enjoy someone else’s wedding.’

‘That’s an improvement on the last time I saw you. You didn’t seem to want anyone to marry then.’

‘And I was right, wasn’t I?’ He casually picked up a candle and breathed in the scent.

She took that hit. ‘You couldn’t have foreseen what was going to happen.’

‘Couldn’t I?’

No. She rejected the idea totally.

‘You and I both knew it wasn’t right,’ he said softly, lowering the candle and coolly looking at her. ‘Even Oliver knew it wasn’t right.’

‘I think it’s best if I go home and work on these in my studio,’ Victoria said through gritted teeth.

‘Where are you staying? Paris?’ Liam asked, his lips curving in that suspiciously sinful way. ‘I can give you a lift.’

‘You’re not staying here?’

He shook his head and straightened, looking all man-of-action. ‘I have some things in town I need to do.’

She couldn’t possibly get a lift with him. Never. The train was the only option.

Victoria looked up to meet his gaze and saw the mockery written all over him. But as she was about to answer he laid a finger over her lips.

‘What are you so worried about?’ he taunted slyly. ‘You’ll be stuck with me for less than an hour. What harm can come?’

To be stuck in a car with the guy who’d once tempted her so completely? She’d be mad to contemplate it. She had to think of some excuse.

‘With you driving?’ she tried to tease archly. ‘You always travelled too fast, Liam. So I’d say all kinds of harm could come.’

‘Oh, well.’ His answer came lazy and insolent. ‘If it’s speed you’re afraid of, why don’t you drive?’

TWO

Liam tried not to hold his breath as he waited for her answer. Victoria Rutherford—the only woman he’d wanted, but had never had. The one who’d got away. It was such a cliché, but face to face with her for the first time in five years?

He still wanted.

She was even more beautiful now. Until today he wouldn’t have thought that was possible.

‘Sure.’ Her very pretty chin tilted upwards as she finally gave him an answer.

Liam had to suppress more than a sigh of satisfaction—there was a burn in his blood and in his gut as well. Last time he’d asked her something it had been a denial she’d issued. Not today. And, as crazy as it was, Liam had more to ask of her. Much more. He wanted to hear ‘yes’ from her mouth many times over.

Maybe then his mind would be freed from all those memories.

Victoria willed confidence. Of course she could drive that big black car. It might have power but it’d also have every safety feature ever invented. And no doubt it had a fancy sat-nav system and automatic clutch. It’d be a cinch. ‘I’d love to drive.’

Yeah, she just oozed faux confidence—refusing to show how flustered she was.

She carefully packed her gear into her bag. Shame she didn’t have some light leather driving gloves to don with chic aplomb. Gloves would hide the almost permanent ink stains. ‘Let’s get going. I’ve got a lot of work to do.’

But the car that an assistant brought to the front entrance of the chateau wasn’t the big black machine she’d seen from the window. It was a tiny two-seater.

Victoria eyed the sleek gleaming silver with its explicit promise of speed and seduction and turned to Liam. ‘Who do you think you are—James Bond?’

Even she, no car fiend, recognised a vintage Aston Martin when she saw it. No automatic clutch, no sat-nav, no airbags. No roof even. And no chance she was driving it.

He held open the driver’s door for her. ‘You don’t think it’s gorgeous?’

That wasn’t the point. ‘Is it yours?’

Of course he had some zippy racing thing. The guy only knew one speed—supersonic.

He shook his head. ‘It’s a rental. But I figure that’s no reason to be boring.’

As if he could ever be boring. Still, the ownership gave her an out from the nightmare. ‘Then insurance won’t cover me. I’m not taking the chance of damaging a rental car.’

‘But you wouldn’t mind damaging mine?’