Prada and Prejudice (Dating Mr Darcy - Book 1) (21 page)

He swung the door open. “Yes?” he growled.

Natalie blinked. Rhys stood, in all his disheveled glory, in the doorway. He wore a faded pair of jeans and a Manchester United T-shirt, and his feet were bare.

She thrust out a box of Chelsea buns and a bottle of wine. “I came to say sorry…and to give you these.”

His scowl thawed to a frown as he took the box and the wine. “Thanks. But it wasn’t necessary.”

“Well, you’ve moved house, so I owe you a housewarming gift.” Natalie bit her lip. “We need to talk, and we can’t do it at work since we’re always busy. And I don’t want to do it on your doorstep. If you’ll listen, I may have a solution to the Poppy Simone problem.”

Rhys lifted his brow but made no comment as he swung the door wide. He turned and led the way up the stairs to the kitchen, where he put the box and bottle on the counter.

“So what’s your solution?” Rhys asked. He crossed his arms loosely against his chest. “Have you got someone else?”

“Yes.” Natalie hesitated. “I know she’ll do it, and for free. She’s even available on the day.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Quite sure,” she replied, “because—” her heart constricted in her chest “—it’s me I’m talking about. I’ll be the star attraction at the re-launch fashion show.”

“You,” Rhys repeated. His face was expressionless.

Natalie nodded. “Since the ads came out, I’m constantly asked for my picture, or autograph. The newsagents say the tabloids with my photo sell out. And—” the clincher “—Phillip Pryce has agreed to design some new pieces for the store. I’ll debut them at the re-launch fashion show.”

Before Rhys could respond, they heard a crash, followed by a string of expletives. He brushed by her and shouted, “If you broke anything, you git, I’ll have your balls for breakfast!”

Natalie followed Rhys to the sitting room. A young man in jeans and a blue jersey looked doubtfully at an enormous box. “It isn’t broken…I don’t think. What is it, anyway?”

“It’s the coffee table,” Natalie said. She held out her hand. “We’ve not been introduced. I’m Natalie Dashwood.”

“Sorry.” He wiped his forehead with a rag and thrust it in his pocket. “I’m Jamie, Rhys’s brother.” He took her hand and grinned. “I’m younger and better looking than he is.”

“Nicer, too,” Natalie agreed.

“Thanks. You’re famous, you know. My girlfriend bought that skirt and stripy top in the advert, and mum follows all the tabloid stories about you and Rhys and the affair…”

Jamie’s voice trailed away as he caught sight of Rhys’s murderous expression. “I’ll go start on the boxes downstairs. You might’ve marked them,” he added with a meaningful glance at Rhys, “but I’ll sort it out.”

“Help yourself to a Chelsea bun,” Natalie offered.

“Don’t mind if I do.” amie lifted the lid on the bakery box, grabbed two buns, and thundered down the stairs, whistling.

“If I’m to get anything done today, I need to put this bloody table together,” Rhys grumbled. He handed Natalie an instruction sheet and sat on the floor. “Read me the bit after ‘insert screw A into cross-brace’.”

She sat down across from him. “About my idea—” she began.

“Let’s go with it. I think it’s brilliant.” He smiled briefly at her and picked up a packet of screws. “Now help me find this bloody screw A before the day’s done, will you?”

Just before noon on Sunday, a horn blew twice outside the James residence.

“What the devil–?” Alastair muttered as he put aside his newspaper. He rose and went to the study window to investigate.

“Jago’s here!” Hannah announced as she charged down the stairs. “Be back in time for dinner. Bye!”

Before Alastair could respond, the front door opened and slammed, and she was gone. “Cherie!” he called out irritably.

She appeared in the doorway a moment later. “What is it?”

“Hannah’s going out with Jago Sullivan. I don’t want him dating my daughter. And why didn’t he come to the door?”

“Oh, Alastair…it’s not a proper date – they’re ‘hanging out’, according to Hannah.”

“Whatever it’s called, I don’t like it. He’s a stock boy, for God’s sake, with a bloody ring in his eyebrow.”

“If you make a fuss, she’ll only be more determined to see him.”

He sighed. “You’re right, of course. I’m getting too old for this.”

“She’ll be gone soon, and you’ll miss all this fuss.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Alastair grumbled, and resumed his seat. “I could do very nicely without it.”

Chapter 27

Late Sunday afternoon, Natalie pushed away her bowl of spaghetti. “Jamie, that was amazing! Will you show me how to make the sauce?”

“Sure. It’s dead easy.” He held up the half-empty bottle of Barolo. “Another glass?”

“Careful,” Rhys warned Jamie as he topped up their glasses, “the last time Natalie had wine, she ended up in every tabloid in London.
And
she ruined my suit.”

“You got in the way. That wine was aimed at Dominic, not you,” she pointed out.

“I’d love to stay and listen to you two argue,” Jamie said as he stood, “but I promised mum I’d get her some sweets.” He clapped a baseball cap on his head. “What can I say, I’m a good son.”

“Bye, Jamie,” Rhys said as he pushed back his chair and stood up. “Don’t hurry back.”

“OK, I can take a hint. Laters.” He kissed Natalie’s cheek, thundered down the stairs, and left.

Natalie stood as well and eyed the dishes. “I like your brother. He’s much nicer than you.”

Rhys came to stand in front of her. “I’m nice, too, sometimes. When I want to be.”

“Really?” She tilted her head back to study him. “I haven’t seen that side of you, sorry.”

He reached out and wiped a bit of passata sauce from the corner of her mouth with his thumb. “Do you know the first thing that I realised about you?”

“What’s that?” she asked, her voice husky.

“That your aim with a wineglass is terrible.”

She caught her lip between her teeth. “Well, as it happens, I have talents in other areas…”

“Saving money isn’t one of them,” Rhys observed in a low voice as he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.

“No.” Electricity tingled through her at his touch.

“And you don’t maintain your car,” he added as his eyes met hers.

“No,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “But I
did
get the fuel pump replaced.”

“And you’ve a bad habit of leaving things till the last minute,” he murmured, and bracketed her face gently with his hands, “important things.”

“Important things?” she echoed, her eyes wide. “Like what?”

“Like this.”

His arms came around her and his mouth covered hers, and all thoughts of shirts and stains and fuel pumps fled. Desire thrummed through her with a sudden intensity that left her legs trembly and her thoughts scattered.

Rhys pressed her closer as he deepened the kiss.

Natalie clutched at his shirt, grabbing a handful of the soft cotton as desire, raw and sweet and powerful, overtook her.

She’d been kissed before, of course she had. But this? This was entirely different.

Every inch of her skin tingled and responded to his touch. The heat of his jeans-clad thighs against hers, the muscled length of his arms around her, his tongue seeking hers as they kissed – it set her thoughts whirling out of control. There was only his mouth on hers.

“Natalie,” he breathed against her lips, lowering his hands to cup the curves of her bottom, “I’ve wanted you ever since that night at Alastair’s party.”

“Have you?” She closed her eyes as his lips moved away from hers and sought out the sensitive skin behind her ear. “I thought you despised me. I thought…ooh, that’s nice…” She melted as he nibbled her earlobe.

“I thought you were incredibly spoilt—” his hands slid up her waist “—but also incredibly attractive.”

“I don’t know how you resisted me, then.”

“I had a very long, very cold shower when I got home,” he growled, and pressed her hard against the wall and kissed her again, more insistently.

Natalie was helpless to resist the onslaught of his tongue and hands and the hard, heated length of his body against hers. She wanted him with a strength that left her breathless with need.

As Rhys tore his mouth away and began impatiently to unbutton her blouse, Natalie’s mobile shrilled from her jeans pocket. She groaned as he kissed and licked his way down her neck. “Ignore it,” she gasped, “it’ll stop in a second.”

The ringing continued, insistent.

“Shit!” Natalie exclaimed, exasperated, and pulled away. “I forgot to forward it to voicemail, it’ll just keep ringing. Let me just turn it off—”

Rhys grunted something unintelligible and continued to leave heated kisses along her neck.

She pushed him reluctantly away and pulled out her mobile to shut it off. When she saw the call screen, she froze.

Ian Clarkson.

“I’ve got to take this,” she told Rhys, “it’s important,” and she clapped the mobile to her ear. “Hello?” Her voice was unsteady, her stomach a knot of dread.

“Natalie. I didn’t think you were going to answer.”

She gave Rhys an apologetic smile and murmured, “It’s only Caro. Sorry, won’t be a minute.”

He kissed the side of her mouth. “See that you’re not. And tell your sister I’m very put out with her right now.” He padded off to the sitting room to give her privacy.

“What is it?” she demanded in a low voice when Rhys left.

“You’re with Gordon, aren’t you?”

“No,” she lied. She glanced at the sitting room door. “What do you want?”

“You’re a crap liar, Natalie. Meet me for lunch tomorrow. I’ve reserved a table at Carrafini.”

“But someone might see us there! It’s just down the street. Besides, I’m meeting with Phillip at eleven, I can’t possibly—”

“Cancel it. Don’t put me off, Natalie. You didn’t return that fifty quid to the cash box yet, did you?”

She closed her eyes. She’d forgotten completely about the damned money she’d taken.

“I thought so. I’ll see you tomorrow, eleven-thirty. Don’t keep me waiting.” He rang off.

With shaking hands Natalie slipped the mobile back in her pocket. Oh God, oh God…what to do?

“Finished your call?” Rhys asked as he came back in.

She nodded. “Caro needed help with her new DVR player.”

He came behind her and took her in his arms. His breath was warm as he nuzzled her neck. “Stay tonight, Natalie.”

She closed her eyes as she imagined sharing Rhys’s bed. She felt safe in his arms, all her worries about Ian forgotten. She longed to spend tonight with him, God, yes…but Ian Clarkson had ruined the moment with his call.

“I can’t,” she said, and pulled away regretfully. “Nor can you. Tomorrow’s Monday, after all. Work.”

“Ah, yes, work.” He kissed her again, his mouth lingering on hers. “We’ve a lot to do tomorrow.” Rhys frowned. “Which reminds me…I meant to ask you something.”

She looked at him inquiringly. “Oh?”

His eyes met hers. “I had a drink in the Connaught the other night. I saw you at a table with Ian Clarkson. You had your heads together, looked very serious.”

Her thoughts raced. “We were discussing the website. He was put out that you tore it apart,” she added lightly.

“Indeed.” Rhys’s eyes narrowed. “Odd that he wanted to discuss it with you, and over drinks, don’t you think?”

“He…wanted an outside opinion. And he didn’t want any interruptions.”

“Natalie, you’re a crap liar. Why were you with Clarkson? He’s a slimy bastard. And he’s married to your best friend.”

“I told you, we were talking about the website—”

“That’s bollocks and we both know it,” he cut in. “I saw him touch you, I saw you flinch. What’s going on? What’s he got on you? Tell me.”

Her legs were unsteady as she walked across the kitchen to the hallway. “Got on me? Nothing! You’re imagining things.”

“Natalie, I want to help you, but I can’t unless you tell me the truth—”

“There’s nothing to tell! Tell Jamie thanks for dinner. It was really good, and I-I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She grabbed her handbag and hurried down the stairs as Rhys stormed after her.

“That was him just now, wasn’t it?” he demanded as she reached the front door. “It was Ian.”

“Rhys, please, let it go,” Natalie begged. “I can’t…it’s not—” She stopped, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. “I have to go.” And she flung the door open and fled.

Chapter 28

As she returned to her car, Nat’s thoughts were in turmoil.

She hated being at Ian Clarkson’s mercy. And she hated lying to Rhys even more. She had to
do
something. But what?

First things first, she decided as she unlocked the Peugeot. She had to put that fifty quid back in the cash box before someone noticed it was missing…

“Natalie! Wait up.”

She looked up to see Jamie Gordon coming towards her. “Jamie! I didn’t expect to see you lurking around out here.”

“I didn’t expect to see you, either. I thought you’d be spending the night with Rhys.”

She was glad the darkness hid her blush. “Well, you needn’t worry, I’m not staying over.”

“Oh. Sorry. But not as sorry as Rhys, I imagine.” He raised an eyebrow. “Fancy a pint before last call? We didn’t get much of a chance to talk, before.”

“Well…OK. Sure. Orange squash for me, though,” she said as she re-locked the car. “I’m driving home.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, why
aren’t
you staying?” Jamie ventured when they’d seated themselves and he returned with their drinks. “I know it’s none of my business—”

“It’s OK.” She hesitated. “We had a row. There’s something I need to tell him, but…I can’t. I don’t know how he might react. His temper—”

“Yeah, he
does
have a temper,” Jamie admitted, and sipped his lager. “Our dad drank, a lot. Some people drink and get happy. But whiskey only made the old man mean. He was hit head-on by a lorry one night, walking home from the pub. For some reason, he was walking in the road. The lorry driver didn’t see him until it was too late. Killed dad instantly.”

Natalie looked at him in mingled shock and dismay. “How awful! I’m sorry.”