His arrogant head tilted back. 'If that is what you want, I agree. But let's discuss it over dinner.'
What she wanted was to step back in time a couple of months, she thought wryly, and never to have met Luc again. Unfortunately, that was impossible...
The Old Forge in Magum Down was a picturesque old English sixteenth-century forge that had been converted in the nineteen thirties into a small, privately owned hotel, and the restaurant was known for miles around for its excellent cuisine.
Parisa watched Luc break a piece of bread from the hot roll on his plate and pop it into his mouth. How was it that Luc could make the simplest act somehow sensual?
He caught her staring, his lips tilting at the corners in a brief, very masculine grin before saying, 'Eat your meal, Parisa, before it gets cold.'
'Mmm,' she mumbled, disconcerted by the quick stab of awareness that made her hand tremble slightly as she abruptly lowered her gaze to her plate and forked a tender piece of veal scallopine to her mouth. She wondered for the hundredth time why she was here, and what it was about Luc that meant that, even as she despised the highhanded way he had treated her, her body responded to his potent masculinity with a frightening intensity. 'More potatoes?' She offered him the dish in an attempt to get her mind back to the more mundane, but it didn't work.
'You remember my appetite... I'm flattered,' he said with a harsh laugh, accurately reading her mind. 'But do you recall everything, I wonder?' He leant back in his chair, eyeing her with cold disdain. 'Your body beneath mine, your hands clinging to me.' His low, deep- timbred drawl, the memories he awakened brought a flush of heat to her cheeks. 'No, you didn't care enough even to tell me where you lived.'
For a second she felt light-headed. Perhaps he had wanted to see her again, did care about her. But one glance at his set, angry expression, and she cursed herself for being a fool. She had waited in London for him to call, and he had never bothered. He wanted her now for his mother's sake.
'For heaven's sake keep your voice down,' she hissed, ignoring his provocative comment. 'This is a public restaurant.'
'So sorry, I wouldn't dream of embarrassing you.'
Liar... She wanted to scream her frustration to the heavens, but one glance at Luc's face, and she lowered her eyes. Why was he so angry with her? Surely it should be the other way around...?
Parisa lifted the fluted glass from the table and took a sip of the sparkling champagne, a gift from the proprietor and his wife. They had seen the announcement in The Times. She was a regular customer, and they knew her quite well. It had been a lovely gesture, but it only added to Parisa's feeling of guilt. She could not help feeling a complete fraud. The huge diamond on her finger and the rather large cheque she had paid into the bank that morning, all provided by the man sitting opposite her, did nothing to assuage her guilty feelings. Luc might have played a trick on her, but he had certainly paid very dearly for the privilege.
'Parisa, I did not bring you here to argue with you; quite the opposite. Will you marry me?'
Parisa choked on her wine and started to cough. She couldn't believe her ears. With her napkin held to her mouth, she raised watery eyes to her companion.
Luc, his expression remarkably bland, said smoothly, 'It was a straightforward question. I didn't expect you to choke on it.' His mouth relaxed, curling into a mocking smile as he studied her flushed face. 'But when you can speak I would like an answer.'
'No,' she spluttered, swallowing hard, her blue eyes wide as saucers in a face now pale with shock. Twice today he had asked her to marry him, and yet if he had asked her two months ago she would have jumped at the chance. But now she was much wiser...
'Impulsive as ever, Parisa. You haven't considered the prospect at all.' He laughed, a hint of devilment lurking in his eyes, as he reached across the table and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. 'Think about it. All your frustrating... problems solved at one go. I am a very wealthy, legitimate businessman, not—as you seemed to think—a crook. You spend two weeks as my wife, visit my mother, and a large amount of cash will be deposited in your bank account.'
The sheer arrogance, the conceit. And what did he mean, 'frustrating'... ? Deposit money... As if she would consider for one minute...
'But you are a liar. You quite happily let me think you were a villain, a member of the Mafia. I was a huge joke to you, nothing more,' she said bitterly. 'It was only by chance I read in a Sunday newspaper you were a businessman and not a criminal.' That still rankled every time she thought of it. 'You had Luigi Reno charged with fraud, but you were not above using his filthy photographs to trick me. In fact you are just as much a blackmailer as he was.'
'But it didn't stop you going to bed with me, cara,' he reminded her silkily. 'Or enjoying it.'
'I don't need you to remind me what a fool I was,' she snapped, her eyes spitting fury.
'You don't know what you need,' she thought she heard him murmur, before he returned his attention to the food in front of him.
Her mouth curved with a hint of bitterness. How like him to drop a bombshell and then ignore her. Over two months had passed since she had spent the night in his arms, and now he had the nerve... To hide her shock and anger she picked up her glass of champagne and gulped it down.
'More wine?' Luc said urbanely, and refilled her glass. 'Finish your meal and think about it, Parisa.' And for the next few minutes silence reigned, as Luc cleared his plate with obvious relish, then added, 'Didi was right about this place. The food is superb.'
'Yes,' Parisa responded mechanically, eating without even tasting the delicious food, her mind in too much of a turmoil to concentrate on the meal.
'Good. I have a special licence for Thursday. We will marry at eleven and visit Mamma before she goes into Theatre.'
'No, I meant yes, the food is great,' she spluttered. She was too stunned by the events of the last few hours to think straight, and it did not help at all to realise Luc was laughing at her.
'Are you sure you have given my proposal careful consideration, Parisa? Earlier this evening you were telling me about your rather reckless ancestors, and decrying the fact none of them had any business sense. Yet here you are turning down an excellent proposition without a second thought.'
His black eyes held hers, a hint of challenge in their depths, and a wave of something very like fear washed over her. Until that moment she had almost succeeded in convincing herself that nothing Luc did could threaten her, but now she was not so sure.
'You must have inherited the reckless genes apparent in most of your ancestors,' Luc offered with open mockery.