‘Nope.’
‘But it’s the cheapest one.’
Aiesha held it up to the light, watching as the facets of the diamond glittered. ‘Doesn’t look cheap to me.’
‘It’s not, but—’
‘Don’t worry, James.’ She flashed him a quick little smile. ‘I’ll give it back when this is over. You can give it to your real bride.’
He stood looking down at her for a long moment, his brow creased in a frown.
‘Have I got lipstick on my teeth or something?’
‘No.’
‘Then why are you looking at me like that?’
He moved his thumb over the back of her hand in a rhythmic motion, his eyes still holding hers. ‘I thought we could go somewhere for a quiet drink. I know a cosy little bar where the music doesn’t thrash your ears. You can actually have a conversation without having to shout or mime.’
He wanted to talk to her? That could be dangerous. She had said enough. She had already told him too much. He knew too much. ‘Won’t I look a little overdressed?’
‘This is Paris,’ he said. ‘It’s impossible to be overdressed.’
* * *
The bar he took her to was in Saint-Germain-des-Prés, where a pianist was playing blues and jazz. The atmosphere was warm and intimate and, although the drinks were crazily overpriced, Aiesha indulged in a brightly coloured cocktail that made her head spin after two sips. Or maybe it was being in James’s company. He wasn’t so stiff and formal and brooding now. He was watching her fiddle with her straw with an indulgent smile kicking up one side of his mouth as if he had solved a difficult puzzle and was feeling rather pleased with himself.
She could only assume she was the puzzle.
He had been patient; she had to give him that. Waiting for her to drop her guard. Not pushing her too hard. And yet he had stood his ground with her on occasion, not letting her get away with manipulating him. ‘Game playing’ he called it. He was right. She did play games. It was her way of keeping people at a safe distance.
But she hadn’t been able to keep him away from her secrets. He had discovered almost everything about her and yet he didn’t push her away...or at least not until the end of the month when they would go their separate ways.
He would move on with his life and find a suitable bride. He would find someone who wouldn’t play games. Someone he would be comfortable introducing to his friends and colleagues. Not someone who had the potential to embarrass him or destroy his reputation via an ill-timed comment to the press from one of her crazy relatives.
Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn’t she be the one he chose? Why couldn’t she accept him if he did?
Because that was the stuff of fairy tales and she wasn’t a little kid any more, hoping that someone was going to wave a magic wand over her head and make everything turn out right in the end.
‘I wouldn’t drink that too quickly,’ he said.
Aiesha gave her straw a couple of twirls before she took another sip. ‘Don’t worry, James. I won’t embarrass you by suddenly jumping up and dancing on the tables.’
His smile was exchanged for a frown. ‘Look, can you drop the armour just for tonight?’
Aiesha crossed one leg over the other and leaned back on the velvet sofa they were sharing. ‘What armour?’
His dark blue eyes held hers. ‘Let me see you without the brash bad-girl mask. Be the girl in the alley this afternoon. The one who loves dogs. The one who let me hold her as she told me stuff she’s told no one before.’
She pursed her lips and reached for her drink, taking a generous sip that sent her blood-alcohol level soaring. Or maybe it wasn’t the alcohol. Maybe it was the chance to let her guard down and stay down long enough to connect with someone who was smart enough, intuitive enough to see behind the facade.
It was so tempting...
Could she do it?
Just for tonight?
What did she have to lose? It wasn’t as if she had anything to lose or gain. James wasn’t going to suddenly fall in love with her just because she showed him the side of herself no one ever saw. He cared about her, but then, so did his mother. It didn’t mean he loved her or wanted to spend his future with her. He was too conservative, too sensible to fall for someone so far outside his social circle.
Aiesha kept her gaze trained on the pink-and-orange umbrella in her cocktail. ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘I don’t want you to hide from me,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you to play games. I hate it when you do that. I’m not going to exploit you. I’m not that sort of man. Surely you know that by now?’