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‘Course I didn’t. Anyway, you know pheromones are a load of bollocks.’
‘Hamster bollocks?’
He grinned. ‘Probably.’
James tucked his car in the far corner of the car park outside Saint Saviour’s church and the gates of Foxbrooke Manor. The black Ferrari suddenly felt too ostentatious, the kind of car that would make the councillors think he was a flash git.
Glancing down at his designer suit and handmade shoes, he sighed. Should he have nipped into Bath to grab something made from polyester that didn’t fit and worn that instead?
Fuck it. It’s not like they’re going to be looking at the label.
He turned for the manor, hoping the short walk would clear his head. The councillors were due at seven and Estelle had told him to arrive at six forty-five, so he was doing exactly as instructed.
Despite the cold weather the front doors were already open, but he knocked anyway, then poked his head inside the entrance hall. Clothes rails stood to one side awaiting coats, and fairy lights wound up the banisters of the enormous staircase in front of him.
James’s gaze travelled up to the landing where Estelle had tumbled, his muscles tensing as if preparing to act again. There was a flash of gold at the edge of his vision, then she appeared, stopping at the point she fell, staring at her hand on the banister.
‘Estelle?’
Her head snapped up and her mouth opened. She raised a hand in greeting, but didn’t move.
‘How’s the ankle?’
‘Fine.’
She started along the landing and he went to the bottom of the stairs to wait for her.
As she rounded the corner, she paused, then squared her shoulders and stepped down towards him.
James held his breath. He’d seen the hint of gold through the ornate carving of the banister, but now there was nothing between him and Estelle. Wearing a bandage dress, the iridescent strips of material coiled around her curves. She was like a Christmas present he wanted to unwrap immediately.
Shimmering gold eyeshadow highlighted her eyes, and jewelled clips pinned back her hair. Gazing at her was like staring into the sun. Her beauty was blinding.
Uncertainty flickered behind her outwardly confident expression as she descended, her feet stopping a step from the floor so they were the same height.
‘Star.’ The word was out before he could stop it.
Her full lips parted and she sucked in a breath.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he continued, as all the filters between his brain and mouth continued to malfunction.
‘It’s just the clothes. I borrowed this from Mom,’ she said in a rush. ‘And Willow did my make-up.’
‘No, it’s you.’ Stop talking! ‘The dress only highlights what’s already there.’
Estelle’s breath came quicker, her chest rising and falling, flooding his body with need.
James’s arm, in solidarity with his mouth, was also refusing to listen to reason, and he held out his hand.
She hesitated, then took it. A lightning bolt of desire shot from where their fingers touched, straight to his dick.
‘Ah! There you are!’
Estelle snatched her hand away and James turned.
Arthur Foxbrooke was crossing the entrance hall towards them, wearing a black-tie suit that looked a size too small, and a purple silk cummerbund stretched around his middle.
‘Look! I dressed up!’ He pointed proudly at himself. ‘Haven’t worn this since the last century!’ He grabbed James’s hand and pumped it up and down. ‘Glad you’re here. Bev still coming?’
