Keeping Luke's Secret. Carole Mortimer
He shrugged broad shoulders beneath the black jacket and green shirt he wore with black trousers. ‘Perhaps it might prove—inconvenient for you, if you already have someone in residence?’ His eyes narrowed speculatively.
Deep grey eyes flashed her anger at his obvious derision. ‘I live alone, Mr Richmond,’ she snapped, pointedly holding the door open wider so that he could walk inside.
‘I’ve never yet known that as a viable reason for not having the occasional—weekend house-guest,’ he drawled mockingly, his physical presence making the hallway seem extremely narrow.
And Leonie extremely uncomfortable!
Consequently her reply was sharper than usual. ’Don’t judge everyone by your own standards, Mr Richmond,’ she snapped.
His only physical response to her obvious sarcasm was a slight rising of his dark brows. ‘Can you really see Rachel accepting my taking a procession of women into her home?’ he scorned.
Leonie frowned. ‘You live in Hampshire with your mother…?’ It was a question she had wanted an answer to since yesterday!
He shrugged. ‘Most of the time. Like you, I have an apartment in London; I just rarely use it.’
‘How nice to have that luxury,’ Leonie snapped scathingly; it took most of her wages to keep even this small apartment in London—and she was sure that this man’s London home was much more luxurious than this.
‘I think so,’ Luke drawled. ‘Do you have a problem with my living arrangements?’ His gaze had narrowed ominously.
‘Not in the least,’ Leonie dismissed uninterestedly. ‘Would you like to come through to the sitting-room?’ She pushed open the door to the right of where they stood, leading the way into her sparsely furnished sitting-room.
His mouth twisted derisively as he followed her. ‘I thought you would never ask,’ he murmured dryly.
Leonie shot him a reproving glance before turning to check that the sitting-room was at least tidy; she usually cleaned the apartment on a Sunday, but she hadn’t got as far as this room yet today. Everything looked as neat as usual, only yesterday’s newspaper on the coffee-table out of place.
It was a deliberately uncluttered room, completely bare of photographs, the chairs and tables cane, coloured scatter rugs on the highly polished light-coloured wood floor, a couple of Monet prints on the cream walls.
She bent down to pick up the newspaper, tucking it under her arm. ‘Can I get you a coffee? Or anything?’ she offered awkwardly.
‘Coffee will be fine; it’s a little early in the day for “anything”,’ Luke Richmond drawled, looking dubiously at one of the cane chairs. ‘Is that thing strong enough to take my weight, do you think?’ he murmured ruefully.
‘If it isn’t, I’m sure buying me a replacement won’t be a problem for you,’ Leonie snapped rudely, her cheeks flushing deeply red as he looked across at her, brows raised mockingly.
Get a grip, Leonie, she instantly rebuked herself. Okay, so the man was rude and condescending, but that was no reason to lower herself to his level!
‘I’ll go and make some coffee,’ she muttered before hurrying from the room, only breathing easily again once she reached the warm brightness of her cream and yellow kitchen.
What was Luke Richmond doing here?
As if she really needed to ask!
Obviously his mother had told him of her decision to offer Leonie the chance to write her biography—and Luke was here to see that Leonie turned down that offer. That alone was enough to make her want to accept it!
Which, in her opinion, was a totally childish reaction. She was twenty-nine years old, with a doctorate in History, was a well-respected university lecturer, and, even if she did say so herself, her biography on her grandfather the previous year had been well received.
But, then, that was the real problem for Luke Richmond, wasn’t it?
‘Here we are.’ She put the laden coffee tray on the table a few minutes later, dismissively registering the fact that he seemed to have risked one of the cane chairs—and that so far the ‘thing’ hadn’t collapsed on him! ‘Cream and sugar?’ she offered politely once the coffee was poured into the cups.
‘Neither, thanks.’ Luke Richmond accepted the cup she offered him.
She should have already known that this man would be completely uncompromising, even when it came to how he drank his coffee!
She added a liberal amount of cream and sugar to her own coffee before sitting down in the chair opposite his; she was one of those people lucky enough to be able to eat and drink anything without putting on weight.
‘So, Mr Richmond,’ she murmured after taking a sip of her own coffee, ‘what can I do for you?’
‘Well, you can call me Luke, for a start,’ he bit out tersely. ‘“Mr Richmond” makes me sound like Methuselah!’
It also kept him on a formal level—which was exactly where Leonie wanted to keep him!
His gaze was narrowed as he looked round the room. ‘This is rather nice,’ he finally murmured admiringly. ‘Who was your interior designer?’
‘Leonora Winston,’ she answered with a derisive twist of her lips. ‘Interior designer’, indeed!—was this man on the same planet as her? As if she could afford an interior designer!
But then, Luke had been born to a mother who was one of the highest-paid actresses in the world, must have lived with her in Hollywood for most of his childhood, and the house Leonie had visited in Hampshire yesterday, although extremely comfortable and beautifully decorated, was more like a mansion than a family home…
Luke looked at her with glacial green eyes. ‘It wasn’t my intention to be insulting,’ he rasped.
‘I know that,’ Leonie sighed, putting down her empty coffee-cup. ‘And no insult was taken. It must be difficult for you to understand—well, just difficult,’ she amended awkwardly as she realised she was the one being insulting now.
‘I can assure you I haven’t always lived with a silver spoon in my mouth,’ Luke said.
‘No?’ Leonie prompted interestedly.
‘No,’ he confirmed dryly, adding nothing further to the statement.
Deliberately so, Leonie was sure, intriguing her in spite of herself…
‘Mr Richmond—’
‘I thought we had agreed on Luke—Leonie,’ he added pointedly.
She drew in a sharp breath. ‘All right—Luke.’ She nodded impatiently. ‘Did you just come here to comment on my decor and drink coffee, or are you going to tell me the reason why you’re here?’ she prompted agitatedly.
Luke looked at her consideringly, somehow managing to look relaxed and comfortable despite the fragility of the chair he sat in. Leonie found herself shifting uncomfortably under the full impact of that piercing gaze.
’Does intimidation usually work?’ she finally snapped irritably.
‘“Intimidation”?’ he repeated slowly, seeming to savour the word before giving a shake of his head. ‘I’m merely looking at you, Leonie.’
It was the way he was looking at her that was so unnerving—just like a professor she had once worked with who had liked to study antiquities minutely under a microscope!
‘You’re a very beautiful woman.’
Now he had unnerved her! What did the way she looked—or didn’t look—have to do with anything?
‘Mr Richmond—’
‘Ah-ah—Luke,’ he corrected