Read Online Anything but Vanilla... by Liz Fielding - Free Book Online
Authors: Liz Fielding
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for you?’
‘Landlord’s perks.’
‘Don’t bank on getting them from me,’ she said, making it clear she thought that they amounted to more than sandwiches.
‘Not one created out of ice cream,’ he warned, ‘but hot, from the baker on the corner. Heavy on the brown sauce.’
* * *
Nancy’s phone went straight to voicemail and Sorrel left a message asking her to call back as a matter of urgency. She’d already tried Ria’s mobile and got a message saying that the number was not available, which was worrying. If she’d cut all her ties...
No. Alexander had said she was safe. Presumably he had a contact number even if he wasn’t prepared to share. She wished she’d taken more notice when Ria talked about her friends in Wales. She’d sent a card the last time. She still had it somewhere...
Meanwhile, she cleaned out the coffee maker and refilled it.
Alexander West might have set her nerves jangling, disturbing her more than any man she’d ever met—irritating her, with his dismissal of her ability to run a business based on nothing but the length of her skirt—but a pot of coffee was a small price to pay for the lifeline he had, no matter how reluctantly, thrown her.
He didn’t acknowledge her as she plugged it back in and switched it on. His attention was focused on the computer screen and since he was probably trying to work out where all the money had gone—and how much he could persuade her to pay for the business—she did not disturb him.
There was only so much ‘amazement’ a woman could take in one day.
She rubbed the back of her hand over her mouth as if to erase the memory of his kiss. It only brought the moment more vividly to life and he hadn’t even been trying. If he’d followed through on the heat that had come off him like an oven door opening as he’d turned to look up at her...
No.
Absolutely not.
He was just passing through and she didn’t do one-night, or even one-week stands. It had been a very long time since she’d even come close. Graeme...
She shook her head. Their relationship wasn’t about sex, it was about partnership. Their marriage, when it happened, would be based on mutual respect and support. Built to last. Not some flash-in-the-pan, here today, gone tomorrow, lust-driven madness.
Right now, her sole focus was her business; making it a household name in the events world.
She fetched her laptop from the van, checked the recipes Ria had given her, listed what she’d need to make the missing ices, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the sudden collapse of Ria’s business and Alexander West’s involvement in it all.
He was certainly not the freeloader she’d thought him. He’d put his hand in his own pocket to pay a couple of hefty bills—and not, apparently, for the first time.
Whatever his relationship with Ria, it went deep. And was, she reminded herself for the umpteenth time, none of her business.
Really.
She did need to speak to Ria, though, and tried her home number. Her call went straight to voicemail. She left a message promising to help, urging her to come back. There was nothing in her own message box that wouldn’t wait but, seeking a little steadiness to counteract the last couple of hours, she returned a call from Graeme Laing. He was not only her financial advisor and mentor since university, but everything she’d ever wanted in a man.
‘Sorrel... Thanks for getting back to me so quickly.’ Calm, ordered—at the sound of his voice, her pulse rate immediately began to settle. ‘I’ve managed to get tickets for the gala opening of La Bohème and I need to know if you’ll be free on the twenty-fourth.’
‘Really?’ She tried to sound excited. ‘I thought they were like gold dust.’
‘They are. Someone owed me a favour.’ No surprise there. He was the kind of man everyone wanted on their side in the turbulent financial world. Picking up on her lack of enthusiasm, he said, ‘Puccini is at the lighter end of the
‘Landlord’s perks.’
‘Don’t bank on getting them from me,’ she said, making it clear she thought that they amounted to more than sandwiches.
‘Not one created out of ice cream,’ he warned, ‘but hot, from the baker on the corner. Heavy on the brown sauce.’
* * *
Nancy’s phone went straight to voicemail and Sorrel left a message asking her to call back as a matter of urgency. She’d already tried Ria’s mobile and got a message saying that the number was not available, which was worrying. If she’d cut all her ties...
No. Alexander had said she was safe. Presumably he had a contact number even if he wasn’t prepared to share. She wished she’d taken more notice when Ria talked about her friends in Wales. She’d sent a card the last time. She still had it somewhere...
Meanwhile, she cleaned out the coffee maker and refilled it.
Alexander West might have set her nerves jangling, disturbing her more than any man she’d ever met—irritating her, with his dismissal of her ability to run a business based on nothing but the length of her skirt—but a pot of coffee was a small price to pay for the lifeline he had, no matter how reluctantly, thrown her.
He didn’t acknowledge her as she plugged it back in and switched it on. His attention was focused on the computer screen and since he was probably trying to work out where all the money had gone—and how much he could persuade her to pay for the business—she did not disturb him.
There was only so much ‘amazement’ a woman could take in one day.
She rubbed the back of her hand over her mouth as if to erase the memory of his kiss. It only brought the moment more vividly to life and he hadn’t even been trying. If he’d followed through on the heat that had come off him like an oven door opening as he’d turned to look up at her...
No.
Absolutely not.
He was just passing through and she didn’t do one-night, or even one-week stands. It had been a very long time since she’d even come close. Graeme...
She shook her head. Their relationship wasn’t about sex, it was about partnership. Their marriage, when it happened, would be based on mutual respect and support. Built to last. Not some flash-in-the-pan, here today, gone tomorrow, lust-driven madness.
Right now, her sole focus was her business; making it a household name in the events world.
She fetched her laptop from the van, checked the recipes Ria had given her, listed what she’d need to make the missing ices, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the sudden collapse of Ria’s business and Alexander West’s involvement in it all.
He was certainly not the freeloader she’d thought him. He’d put his hand in his own pocket to pay a couple of hefty bills—and not, apparently, for the first time.
Whatever his relationship with Ria, it went deep. And was, she reminded herself for the umpteenth time, none of her business.
Really.
She did need to speak to Ria, though, and tried her home number. Her call went straight to voicemail. She left a message promising to help, urging her to come back. There was nothing in her own message box that wouldn’t wait but, seeking a little steadiness to counteract the last couple of hours, she returned a call from Graeme Laing. He was not only her financial advisor and mentor since university, but everything she’d ever wanted in a man.
‘Sorrel... Thanks for getting back to me so quickly.’ Calm, ordered—at the sound of his voice, her pulse rate immediately began to settle. ‘I’ve managed to get tickets for the gala opening of La Bohème and I need to know if you’ll be free on the twenty-fourth.’
‘Really?’ She tried to sound excited. ‘I thought they were like gold dust.’
‘They are. Someone owed me a favour.’ No surprise there. He was the kind of man everyone wanted on their side in the turbulent financial world. Picking up on her lack of enthusiasm, he said, ‘Puccini is at the lighter end of the
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