From Paris With Love This Christmas. Jules Wake

       Chapter 4

      ‘You’re sure?’ she asked for the second time.

      ‘Oui, Mademoiselle. We received the instruction from the account holder. I suggest you speak to them.’

      ‘And I can’t use the card?’

      ‘No, it has been cancelled. A new one will be issued to the account holder’s address.’

      Siena shook her head. Not careless then. Both her cards had been cancelled. She’d known Maman would be angry at her leaving, especially when they were due out to dinner that evening, but not this angry. What had Yves been saying to her? He could be so convincing.

      With resolute determination, she switched off her phone. She wasn’t going home. Not before Harry’s birthday. She had a plan and exactly a month to get everything lined up. In the meantime, she could easily survive on this month’s allowance. Admittedly she couldn’t buy a complete new wardrobe for spring, but she could make a start.

      For a minute she stared out of the window. An idea popped into her head and grabbing the pad she always kept to hand, she quickly sketched a tall willowy figure and outlined the dress. Cowl neck. Mid length pencil skirt, with hem dropped at one side. Three-quarter-length sleeves. After ten minutes, she put the pad down.

      She groaned out loud. It wasn’t right. What she saw in her head didn’t translate onto paper.

      Which is why she needed so desperately to go to college. This week she’d arrange an appointment at the London School of Fashion. With her fashion knowledge and contacts in Paris it shouldn’t be too difficult to get accepted on one of their courses starting next year. Then she could go back and present Maman with a fait accompli. She was too young to get married yet.

      In the meantime, she needed to find a bank and withdraw some sterling.

      She grabbed the last clean towel from the guest stack – she’d have to ask Jason for some more – headed into the bathroom and ran smack into him.

      Her mouth dried. Ça alors! With a white towel wrapped very, very low around his waist, dark hair dusting a mighty fine, firm chest and then tapering down there, he brought her to a dead stop. Her heart jumped in her chest, the irregular rhythm vibrating like a Mexican jumping bean. Last time he’d been half naked, she’d been too worried about her own nudity to take much in.

      She took in a breath to steady herself. How ridiculous. She’d seen, almost seen, naked men before. She’d even slept with one or two. It wasn’t like she was some blushing virgin, although her experience was pretty limited. Before Yves, they had been lights off, fleeting encounters. Certainly never up, close and personal with a tank load of raw virility chucked in.

      ‘Seen enough?’ The initial irritation on his face, half covered in white shaving foam which accentuated his tanned skin, had given way to suppressed amusement.

      ‘Sorry. I didn’t realise you were in here.’

      Almost mesmerised by his chest, she realised she’d clenched her hands tight to her sides, to stop her reaching up to touch the smooth skin. The cramped room meant there was very little room to manoeuvre with him standing in front of the sink.

      ‘I think we might need to establish some ground rules. Starting with not barging into the bathroom without knocking.’

      ‘You did it to me the other day.’

      Jason did that double take thing, which wasn’t funny or clever, eyes bugging out in exaggerated disbelief. ‘You weren’t supposed to … Oh forget it. Ground rules. Don’t …’ his voice trailed away.

      ‘Seriously, you want to do this now?’ She put her hand on her hips. His eyes seemed to have gone a bit glassy. ‘Can’t it wait until I’ve had a shower and a coffee? I’ve spent the last twenty minutes on the phone to credit card companies.’

      ‘Good idea,’ his voice sounded suspiciously strangled and he turned his back on her, rather abruptly as if he’d definitely finished talking to her. How rude. What was wrong with him now?

      With a sniff, she backed out of the bathroom, shutting the door with a bang, narrowly missing catching the hem of her nightie in … nom d’un chien! She looked down. She really needed to invest in some new nightwear.

      Jason took a slug of milky coffee and leaned back against the draining board. Maybe he needed to go out and get laid; it had been a while since he’d had sex but Siena wandering around in that see-through thing wasn’t helping. At this rate, living with her, he was going to burst a blood vessel or set his stomach off again. Correct that. He wasn’t living with her. Her stay was strictly temporary and he needed to find out when she was going home. She couldn’t stay here; she’d drive him insane. Only one day and two nights and already she seemed to have spread a detritus of belongings about the house. Ankle boots, sexy high-heeled fuck-me numbers, now littered the hall. OK, so two pairs, but that was still two pairs too many. A scarf draped over the banister might not be much, but it was the start of things. Like the leather jacket slung over the back of the chair opposite him. As for the bathroom, he was surprised he could still get in there. A lorry load of Clarins products had staked their claim along every available surface. He liked things tidy. In their place. He liked … the image of her exquisitely perfect body popped into his head. Only two days and he’d already seen far too much of that too. He didn’t seem to be able to dislodge the image from the loop in his head.

      ‘Morning.’

      And there she was, as if he’d conjured her up; her complexion glowing. He wasn’t prone to fancy imaginings but her skin did appear to have its own luminosity. Then again, hardly surprising given all those expensive lotions and potions upstairs.

      Deciding to be on his best behaviour and follow her civilised lead, he said ‘Morning. Would you like a coffee?’

      A smile lit up her face. Damn, it really did light it up. ‘I’d love one.’ She sank gracefully into the chair.

      She certainly was easy on the eye. Last night’s gorgeous vamp had been replaced with this daisy-fresh dewy-skinned natural beauty. No doubt the simple lavender blue T-shirt which highlighted the clear tones of her blue eyes cost a fortune but with pristine white jeans hugging long legs and skimming very neat ankles, she looked like some supermodel in from a long country walk.

      Dropping into the chair opposite he watched her take a cautious sip of coffee and wrinkle her nose. ‘Is this instant?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Oh no, really?’

      ‘Seriously? You’re complaining about my coffee?’

      ‘I wasn’t exactly complaining.’ She shrugged her shoulders.

      ‘Sounded like it to me.’

      ‘I wasn’t. Surprised, perhaps. I didn’t think people really drank instant.’

      ‘They do, but feel free to buy your own fresh coffee.’

      ‘Sorry,’ her smile faltered and he felt as if he’d drop kicked a kitten. ‘I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s a cultural thing. In France most people drink filter coffee or from a cafetière. I wasn’t complaining.’

      Jason sighed. ‘Look. I’m sorry. We got off to a bad start. I haven’t had much sleep recently and I wasn’t expecting a houseguest. When Laurie asked me to pick you up, I’d driven back from Scotland. It’s further north than Yorkshire and takes at least six hours drive.’ Siena nodded and he was glad he’d explained. Her knowledge of British geography