Lovers' Dance (68 page)

“Is he another billionaire, Madi?” Gloria asked, getting off her seat to go peer out the front entrance.

“Why did you tell him I was free, Gloria?” I groused, looking out at the limo parked in front of my building.

“Because you are,” she replied as if it was nothing big. “He’s good looking. Maybe not as handsome as your Matt, but still fit. Is he rich like Matt?”

“I don’t know,” I grumbled, rubbing the back of my neck. “And I don’t care. I don’t want that silly limo parked out front.”

“Take him to lunch, lass,” she teased. “Whatever it is you have, Madi. I want some of it. It’s true what they say, you know. Once you’re in the circle of the rich and famous, you’re in. Can you fix me up with one of Matt’s friends? Or give me that Scotsman. He looks like he knows how to treat a woman well. Eddie is Scottish and you know he’s nice.”

I shook my head at her logic. Eddie was Scottish and he was nice. That didn’t mean every Scottish person was as nice as our Eddie.

“It’s just lunch, Madi. Go on, all the others have gone out for their lunches and you’re seated in the office like a Billy no mates.”

“I was having a working lunch,” I said defensively.

“What’s one lunch going to do?” she asked.

I chewed my lower lip. What harm could it do? And Dougie was amusing.

“Should I?” I hedged, and she blew out air in exasperation.

“Go,” she said. “Otherwise, he might sit out there in that limo all day.”

She did have a point. The men from Matt’s world did what they pleased. I was getting tired of these types of men. It grew old fast.

“One lunch,” I mumbled, then walked to the changing rooms and slipped off my dancing clothes to replace them with jeans, blue silk blouse and a jacket. Good thing I had worn ankle boots today. After washing my face, I grabbed my bag from the office, checked my cell was in it for when Matt called, and gave Gloria a wave before I left my building. I strode towards the car and the back window whirred down.

“Have ye decided then?” Dougie asked, with a pleased smirk on his face as I peered at him.

“Decided what, Dougie?”

“Where ye are taking me to lunch. I’m quite partial to The Dorchester when I’m in London.”

I did nothing to hide the disbelief on my face as Dougie opened the door for me. I slid in and buckled up. Matt had taken me there quite a few times. It was pricey as hell.

“How about McDonald’s?” I quipped. “There’s a drive through not too far from here. McGregor, McDonald’s; you should feel right at home.”

Dougie burst into a deep throaty chuckle, pressed the intercom and ordered the driver to take us to The Dorchester.

I cleared my throat in a pointed manner. “If all you want is a glass of tap water at that restaurant, then fine. Anything else, you’re paying for.”

“Aye, lass, dinnae worry. What’s the price of a meal when ye have already stolen millions out of my grasp?”

“Like I said earlier, don’t blame me because you were too scared of going all the way that night,” I replied with a laugh.

“I plan to rectify that mistake, Madi,” he said, with a glint in his eye that I didn’t pay attention to. Lunch at The Dorchester with Dougal McGregor. I’m sure he would have me in stitches by the end of it.

<><><>

Matt closed the door of his hotel room and expelled a harassed sigh. Tugging at the tie around his neck, he wandered over to the bar and poured himself a stiff drink. He usually enjoyed travelling, be it for pleasure or work. He found it a chore now, and this was only his third day in the Netherlands. They were trying to broker a deal with Shell. Bastards had requested the meetings take place at their Netherlands headquarters, instead of London. It had annoyed him to the point of wanting to send someone else, but the only other person who could accompany Nathan on this deal was Adam, who was sick, or so he said. Matt didn’t quite believe the hoarseness of his voice and hacking cough was an unfortunate chest infection. He tossed back his drink and headed for the shower, needing to wash the stuffy boardroom smell off his skin. An hour later, he felt relieved as he walked out, encased in a bathrobe and towelling his hair. He went over to check his phone and saw a few missed calls from Adam. Finishing off his hair, he ordered room service, then turned on his laptop before calling his brother. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten pm, the UK was only one hour behind.

“Adam, you called,” Matt said.

“Yes. How are things over there, Matt?”

“Tedious,” Matt replied bad-temperedly. “And Nathan and I still have a week left here. It’s been raining all day. If I have to put up with rain, I’d rather it be in England.”

Adam chuckled, then broke off with a chesty cough. Matt frowned for a second.

“Have you been to the doctor, Adam? You sound terrible.”

Adam cleared his throat—it sounded painful to Matt—then said, “I’m on antibiotics, don’t worry. Listen, the reason I called earlier—”

“To check up on the deal, yes, I know, I’ve sent you an email with where things currently stand.”

“No, that’s not why.” Adam paused and cleared his throat again, this time it sounded different, like he was unsure of what next to say.

“Well?” Matt prompted.

“How are things with you and Madi?” he asked.

Matt couldn’t help the smile that graced his face. “Fine. I have a newfound appreciation for walking into my home. Nothing quite like seeing her curled up in bed waiting for me. You know, you should start thinking about your own love life. You can’t be the perpetual playboy forever.”

Adam let out a sharp bark of derisive laughter. “As if I’m going to take advice on relationships from my younger brother but, back on point, are you sure everything is fine?”

Matt didn’t like the tone Adam was taking with him, not one bit. “Of course I am,” he snapped. “I just said so.”

“Don’t get snarky, Matt. I wanted confirmation—”

“Why?” Matt cut him off curtly.

“Well, remember Diana Rocheford? Second wife of Frank Rocheford?”

Matt searched his memory, trying to put a face to the name. “The blonde?”

“No, that’s his new wife, Penny. Diana is the one who—

“Gossips like it’s going out of style. Yes, I remember now. The redhead with ample assets. What about her?”

“It’s gotten back to me that she has it on reputable source that your lovely Madison was having a cosy lunch with that Scottish lad at The Dorchester today. What’s his name? The one whose family owns those distilleries…Dougal—”

“Bloody McGregor?” Matt hissed down the line. “Not a chance, Adam.”

“Don’t kill the messenger. I’m just telling you what I heard.”

“You know I don’t put stock in their idle chit-chat,” Matt grumbled uneasily. “Especially if it’s from that woman. Didn’t she start that rumour about Louisa’s cousin that turned out to be completely untrue a few years back?”

Adam sighed. “I didn’t want to say this, but it’s not just Diana. Oliver Johnston saw too. He called me directly to ask if you two were finished. I, of course, told him to mind his bloody business, but I had to ask you, Matt. Are you sure everything is okay between you and Madi?”

“Yes, dammit, I am bloody sure,” Matt said angrily.

“Right then…it’s just that she’s a beautiful young woman and you work long hours and travel a lot. She could possibly be feeling neglected. Have you bought her anything nice recently? Why don’t you take her away when you get back to London? Spend some quality—”

“Adam,” Matt growled down the line. “Madi and I are fine. I have to go. Room service is at the door. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good night.” He hung up before his brother could say another word and stalked over to yank open the door and allow the hotel’s staff to wheel his gourmet meal in and lay it out on the dining table. With his mobile in hand, Matt walked over to the table to get cash for the man as a customary tip.

Matt slammed the door shut and immediately dialled her number.

“Hey, hon.” She greeted him warmly. “How are things over there?”

“Are you home, poppet?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even. “I mean home as in Kensington, not your place?”

“No, I’m home in Greenwich.” she replied.

“I want to see you. Go get your iPad so we can Skype. I’ll call you in ten minutes.” Matt ended the call before she could say another word, fully away of how abrupt he was being. What in God’s name was she doing with McGregor? It couldn’t be true.

Ten minutes later Matt sat at the table, logged on to his Skype account and called her. The sight of her smiling face soothed some of the anger inside him. But, beautiful as she was, Matt was a man who rarely beat around the bush.

“Madison DuMont,” he began in a stern voice. “Why am I hearing tales of you and Dougal McGregor enjoying lunch at The Dorchester? That’s one of our favourite restaurants, so I know it’s highly unlikely to be true.” Matt scowled at the screen. “But, on the slim chance it is, I’m asking you now. Did you meet with McGregor for lunch today?”

Her face was a picture. A surprised picture of uneasy shock. “How on earth do you know about my lunch with Dougie?” she asked.

Matt’s jaw clenched, ignoring the delicious smells wafting up from the food on the table. “So it is true. Do you mind explaining why you, my girlfriend, were out with that womanizing poser?”

She was staring at him, mouth parted slightly, dark brown doe eyes wide.

“Anytime now will do, Madison,” Matt ordered.

“This is unbelievable,” she muttered, pulling the clip out of her hair and shaking her fingers through her curls. “You’re in the Netherlands. How could you know about my lunch with—”

“That’s beside the point. Why were you with McGregor? How on earth did you meet him?”

“He came to the studio,” she began.

“He what?” Matt asked. “He showed up at your work?”

“I know, right?” she said, twirling a curl around her finger. “Showed up out of the blue and invited himself to lunch at my expense. He’s something else, Matt.”

Matt did not like this development at all. The fact McGregor had shown up at her work was downright alarming, and a move similar to ones Matt had done many a times in the past when in pursuit of a woman he desired. Surprise her with a complete take-charge attitude, then lavish her with affection. Matt had to admit the Scotsman had balls. Shame he would be losing them soon. Right about the time Matt returned to the UK and found his sorry arse.

“I don’t want you socializing with McGregor, poppet. If he contacts you—”

She frowned at him from the screen. “It was only lunch. He was in London on business and wanted to meet up. He’s harmless and funny.”             

Matt returned her frown. “I don’t want him around you. He’s a cad, and you’re too naïve to see it.”

Her brown eyes narrowed. “Excuse me? Naïve? It was lunch, Matt. A nice lunch that I spent yakking about you half the time, anyway.”

“You talked about me with that clown?” Matt asked, outraged.

She paused, uncertain about his obvious anger. “Nothing personal. Just how great things are between us. Are you jealous?” she asked in a pointed manner. “Because you don’t have to be. Dougie has a girlfriend. He told me about her and she sounds nice. Did you know his family has been in the whiskey business for centuries? And we talked about Scotland. I’ve never been, you know. Maybe we should—”

“Madison,” Matt cut her off tersely. “I don’t care about Dougal McGregor. I care about the fact you were seen in public with him. You need to understand how these things can be perceived. I will not have people gossiping about me, and you meeting another man for lunch is food for gossip. Stay away from McGregor,” he commanded.

Through his screen Matt could see the flurry of emotions skip across her face, finally settling on frustration. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, Matt. I don’t know how things work in your world and I’m trying here. It was lunch.”

“Make sure it was the last lunch you have with him. You can’t do these things, Madison. Appearances are important in my world, and your behaviour is not in line with what it should be,” Matt said, in a voice as frustrated as the look on her beautiful face.

“It’s never enough, is it?” she asked, lower lip quivering. “I’m always going to do something outside what is expected of someone with a man like yourself, aren’t I? I’m trying to fit in, Matt, but I wasn’t born into this life. I don’t know the expected etiquette. It was lunch. You don’t think I find it difficult? Being the black girlfriend—”

“Don’t start with that,” he groused. “I’m not in the mood to discuss your feelings of racial inequality.”

“Fine,” she said coldly. “How about we discuss your behaviour, Matt?”

Matt peered at her through his laptop. “I beg your pardon? My behaviour?”

“Yes, Matt. Like the fact you practically forced me into therapy. What? You think because I haven’t said anything that I’ve gotten over what you did?”

Matt ran a hand through his slightly damp hair. “It was for your own good, Madi.”

“I know,” she replied in a tight voice. “I know I need help, but you didn’t ask if I was ready for it. No, you did what you usually do, which is whatever you want to do whenever you want to do it.”