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Alex’s head came up and she looked at him incredulously. ‘You’ve just made that up,’ she accused huskily. ‘Please let me go.’
‘No. Come with me.’ The pressure on her elbow increased and he steered her out of the foyer into a side room, a smaller, more informal sitting room with comfortable armchairs done in restful shades of green. He closed the door behind them. ‘I meant it,’ he said.
‘But that doesn’t make sense.’ Alex clasped her hands in front of her and prayed she wouldn’t burst into tears. ‘Why would you be angry about that?’
He shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘Because it’s the last thing I need at the moment, an interpreter who’s going to steal the show. Not only that, I can’t allow for anyone to believe that we are on more intimate terms as well.’
Alex’s colour fluctuated, but she said steadfastly, ‘I don’t think there is the slightest chance of that!’
‘My dear …’ Max Goodwin stood back from her and allowed his dark blue gaze to sweep her from head to toe again ‘.believe me, it would occur to me if I saw you with someone else. You look wonderfully slim and elegant, black obviously suits you, it makes your skin look like cream velvet, your eyes are stunning, they look green today—and why the hell didn’t you tell me you had legs to die for?’ he added irritably.
‘Because it’s none of your business,’ she flashed back, then blushed. ‘I mean, they’re just, well, legs.’
‘No, they’re not,’ he contradicted. ‘They’re the best pair of legs I’ve seen for years. For that matter how did you manage to look … like you did yesterday morning?’
Alex plaited her fingers. ‘It was the clothes. I also had thermal undies on.’ She paused.
‘Go on, this is absolutely fascinating,’ he drawled.
Alex grimaced. ‘You did ask.’
For a moment Max Goodwin exhibited no expression at all, then his lips twisted into a faint smile. ‘You were lucky it was such a cold day up here.’
‘I was,’ she agreed, then looked perturbed. ‘I still don’t know whether to believe you.’
‘I’m not in the habit of lying.’
‘But—’ she shook her head a little dazedly ‘—you were the one who wanted me to look more—more with it. I actually was rather convinced you were afraid I might be an embarrassment to you.’
‘For my sins, so I was.’ He smiled austerely. ‘You know, even if you were expecting me to make some crushing remark about your appearance, I wouldn’t have thought it would have bothered you a lot.’
Alex blinked at this disclosure.
He shrugged. ‘I was pretty much convinced you didn’t give two hoots about what I thought.’
She thought through this and a slow tide of pink coloured her cheeks again as she wished fervently she could assure him she didn’t. But of course it was too late for that. She bit her lip.
‘I—’ she began tentatively. ‘That is … look—’ she gestured frustratedly ‘—it must be a “girl” thing. I mean, it must be the one area where I really don’t know what I’m doing.’ She paused and gathered composure. ‘I couldn’t help wondering if I’d ended up looking completely wrong,’ she told him tentatively.
‘No. The opposite.’
Alex gazed at him wordlessly for a long moment. She’d never thought much about men’s tailoring before and was not to know his suit was made from the finest wool/cashmere blend, but anyone could see it fitted perfectly. The smooth charcoal-grey fabric was beautifully stitched along the lapels and he wore a white shirt with a broad stone stripe and a tie with tiny emerald hexagon motifs. Gold cufflinks glinted at his wrists.
His shoes simply looked as if they had cost a fortune. And add to the whole his dark good looks.
Talk about stealing the show, she thought suddenly. Max Goodwin could be the one to do it. So why wasn’t he married? Why had he eluded it until his middle thirties and why was he not amused to discover he had a son? ‘Ms Hill?’
Alex came out of her thoughts with a little start. ‘Sorry. You said?’
‘I said nothing. You were looking at me as if I were—I’m not quite sure.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Reprehensible? Or some kind of specimen that was completely foreign to you?’
Alex chuckled involuntarily, a little breath of sound. ‘That could be it. But—look, do you want me to race home and change?’
He took his time about replying, studying her a little askance as if he was going to take issue with what she’d said first, then he glanced at his watch and shook his head. ‘We don’t have the time anyway. We shall have to make do. Just ignore any excessive adulation that comes your way and—’
Alex broke in, ‘I am not a silly, impressionable young girl, Mr Goodwin!’
‘No. But you may never have appeared in public as if you could grace the cover of Vogue. Plus, it is only human nature for people to wonder if I’m bedding you as well as employing you!’ He looked irritated again. ‘What was I saying? Ah. Just ignore the adulation and don’t leave my side. By the way—’ he frowned as if at a sudden thought ‘—did you say you were a restraining influence?’
