Page 15 of 2 Books in One Bundle

Casual interest.

Charm.

Could that be the right approach? Absolutely. Because there was no other. And who knew? She might even welcome it. She gave no indication that she was similarly tormented by an ongoing attraction, but if she was and her reluctance to move in had not been about a loss of independence at all, then proceeding in this way would be win-win.

There’d have to be conversation, of course. His apartment was large but ensuring her comfort and their baby’s safety would naturally necessitate interaction and he liked silence as much as he liked being on his own, in other words, not at all. In the absence of company and activity, his thoughts tended to circle round his faults and his worth—or obvious lack thereof—and he preferred to dwell on neither. Small talk generally made him want to grind his teeth because it was such a waste of time, but here and now it might be exactly the thing.

‘What would you like for supper?’ he said, practically sagging with relief at having found a way to handle his unexpected and very disturbing house guest.

‘I’ll eat anything,’ she said with a quick smile that for a second made him think of the bed before he told himself sternly,Business acquaintance...business acquaintance. ‘Although all the good stuff like blue cheese and shellfish is off the menu for a while.’

He obliterated the impulse to take several forward and took a decisive step back instead. ‘Right. I’ll leave you to settle in,’ he said with a nod.

‘Thank you.’

‘Come down when you’re ready.’

It took Mia more time to shower and change than it did to unpack. She hadn’t brought much because she wouldn’t be staying long. Once her clothes were stowed in the walk-in wardrobe and her toiletries lined up in the limestone-tiled shower room, she called Hattie for the fourth time since leaving the clinic for assurance that everything was on track for the party this evening, then ventured back down the wide floating staircase.

Unsurprisingly, the vast living space of Zander’s penthouse apartment, which occupied the three top floors of London’s most exclusive residential address, was very masculine—all moody colours, bold lines and a stark absence of daintiness, much like the man himself.

It was also, clearly, a party pad.

At one end of the room, above a granite fireplace that looked as if it was rarely used, hung the largest TV she’d ever seen. In front of the grate, three steel and leather sofas were arranged around a glass coffee table, together with a pair of armchairs that suggested style trumped comfort. In the middle of the space stood a full-size pool table, its petrol blue baize the only shot of colour in a palette of dark, sensuous neutrals, and at the other end was a bar area that stretched along the entire length of the wall, where dozens of bottles lined up on the softly lit shelves behind a counter large enough to accommodate half a dozen stools.

Arriving at the bottom of the stairs, Mia assessed the brown and gold colour scheme and the natural but hard surfaces, similar in style to upstairs, although way more intense, and decided that the décor wasn’t to her taste at all. She preferred brighter colours and a wider variety of them. She liked a curtain and a cushion or two and favoured easy comfort over sophisticated style. The only softness to be found here was in the thick cream rugs that covered the dark wood floor. The pictures on the walls were large and abstract. The books on the coffee table were hardbacked showpieces. Even the lamps dotted around the room had a sculptural air about them.

And where were the photos, the evidence of the people in his life? Admittedly, she only had one—of her and her mother, taken at the Herschel Museum of Astronomy that they’d visited the summer before she’d become ill—but Zander had five siblings and a mother, a smattering of in-laws and a clutch of nieces and nephews. If she’d been lucky enough to have a family the size of his, her bookcases would be buckling beneath the number and weight of the frames.

However, what her host chose to surround himself with was none of her concern.Shedidn’t have to live in this lavish yet strangely soulless apartment. She was just a temporary guest. And presumably not the first, although how many women he’d entertained here and in what way wasn’t any of her business either. No. She couldn’t care less about what he’d got up to in the days since their one-night stand. So what if hehadslept with all the women he’d been pictured with? The future was what was important, not the past.

After a quick look in first the study—no photos in there either—and then the dining room that could seat twenty, Mia eventually found Zander in the kitchen where, beyond the mile-long island, he was transferring silver-cloche-covered dishes from a trolley onto a round marble table encircled by four brass-framed and black velvet-covered chairs.

‘How are you feeling?’ he said, glancing up with those darkly compelling eyes of his that never failed to make her tingle in places she shouldn’t.

‘Fine.’

‘Any pain? Any twinges?’

‘No.’ At least, not of the kind he was referring to, thank goodness. Plenty of throbbing in other places though. He’d swapped his suit for faded jeans and a white shirt, which emphasised his Greek heritage, and looked even more gorgeous than he had in full billionaire businessman mode, striding around the hospital demanding answers.

‘Let me know immediately if that changes.’

‘I will.’

‘Take a seat.’

Doing as he suggested at one of the laid places in order not to ogle him, Mia surveyed the space with a professional eye. Along one wall, a two-plate oven-microwave combination was built into a bank of sleek graphite units. To her right, a full height wine fridge held what had to amount to three dozen bottles. There was ample storage and on the stainless-steel island only a gleaming hob and a sparkling sink broke up the acres of worktop. As he’d assured her earlier, it was state-of-the-art and pristine, and clearly not a lot of cooking went on in here.

‘Something smells amazing,’ she said, her mouth watering as he lifted off the cloches to reveal a platter of what looked like roast cod with sides of crisp French beans and buttery baby new potatoes.

‘The restaurant downstairs is the best in the city,’ he said, dispensing with the silverware and then languidly folding himself into the seat opposite her. ‘Help yourself.’

Mia picked up a fish slice and transferred a portion of cod from the platter to her plate. ‘Do you ever cook?’

‘Coffee and toast and that’s about it,’ he said, sitting back and watching her lazily. ‘I’m out a lot of the time. When I’m here I order in.’

‘How are you not the size of a house?’

---