The Boss's Virgin by Charlotte Lamb (i am malala young readers edition .TXT) 📗

expected, a healthy-looking boy with his father’s dark hair and slim build, but as they came closer she saw that he had sensitive features, wide blue eyes, a fine nose and wide mouth, a mobile face that reflected his emotions as he talked to his father.

She slid out of her seat to greet him, smiling.

‘Johnny, this is Pippa,’ Randal told him, taking his overnight bag and putting it into the boot of the car, and the boy held out his hand, staring at her.

‘Hello.’

‘Hi, Johnny,’ she said, holding his small, slim fingers warmly. How much did he take after his mother? Physically he was very like Randal, but what about his nature, his personality? Was that inherited from Randal, too, or from his mother?

‘We have to hurry,’ Randal told them. ‘We mustn’t be late for lunch at the hotel. Hop in, Johnny.’

They drove off a moment later and were soon at the hotel, a white Georgian building in spacious gardens. Randal manoeuvred his way through the arched gateway into the car park behind the hotel.

‘This was once a coaching inn, in the eighteenth century,’ he told her and Johnny. ‘The coaches came through that arch and their horses were stabled overnight in those boxes, groomed, fed and watered, to rest until early next morning.’

The old stables had been painted pristine white and were used as outbuildings. Hanging baskets of flowers swung along the walls, spilling geraniums and nasturtiums, pink and white and vivid orange, giving colour to the ancient stone-cobbled floor. They all got out. Randal carried their bags through a door marked ‘Reception’ Pippa and Johnny followed him into the low-ceilinged lobby and found him signing them all in while a pretty receptionist watched him, smiling.

A porter collected their luggage, to take it to their rooms, while they walked through the hotel to the dining room for lunch.

As the head waiter showed them to their table Johnny gave a little gasp and stopped dead, staring across the room at another table where a ravishing blonde was half rising, staring too.

‘Mummy!’

Pippa’s heart burned over in sick dismay.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SO THAT was Renata, Randal’s ex-wife! And she was every bit as beautiful as everyone had ever said she was. Her figure was full and curvy, high, beautifully shaped breasts emphasised by the lilac shirt she wore, the lapels open and deep, revealing the smooth golden flesh, a trim waist, slim hips and long, long legs in white, tight-fitting jeans. Her hair was the colour of summer corn, ripe and golden, falling in rich waves around her lovely face.

Every man in the place was staring avidly, coveting her. Pippa gave Randal a quick, searching look, and found him staring too.

He must have been in love with her once. Perhaps he still was under his talk of hating her? It wouldn’t be surprising. Pippa knew she, herself, was attractive, but she had no illusions. She couldn’t hold a candle to Renata. The other woman was one of the best-looking women she had ever seen.

She was smiling now, at her son, and Johnny ran to her, was gathered up in her open arms and kissed.

‘Surprise, surprise!’ she cooed at him.

Randal walked over there, too, as if drawn by invisible ropes, said curtly, ‘Why didn’t you let us know you were coming?’

‘I did say I’d try, didn’t I? But I wasn’t sure I’d make it. I didn’t want to disappoint him if I couldn’t get here.’ Still holding her son’s hand, she smiled up at Randal lazily, her blue eyes sultry. ‘How are you, Randal? You look terrific.’

‘I’m fine.’ Randal shot a glance at the man seated at the table, gave him an unfriendly nod. ‘Hello, Alex.’

‘Hi, how’re you?’ the other man drawled in a strong Australian accent. He was tall, bronzed, blond, with a clean-cut profile, and wore a tan linen suit, jacket open to show a lemon shirt.

‘Fine thanks.’ Randal held his hand out to his son. ‘But we’d better have our lunch now—see you later, no doubt. We’re staying here. Are you?’

‘For tonight, at least,’ Renata said. ‘Maybe we could have dinner?’ She glanced past Randal at where Pippa was standing beside their table. ‘Is that your girlfriend? You didn’t say there was someone special. We must meet her—could we make up a foursome tonight?’ Her gaze coolly slipped over Pippa in her simple green silk tunic, one pencilled brow lifting in silent, unfavourable comment. ‘Pretty,’ she murmured in tones that made it clear she did not really think Pippa was anything of the kind, and Pippa stiffened in resentment. Who did she think she was?

‘Give us a ring later,’ Randal said remotely, walking away, bringing Johnny with him.

As the little boy sat down he looked at Pippa and said, ‘That’s my mummy.’

‘Yes,’ Pippa said with a forced, bright smile, picking up the menu and pretending to study it with interest.

Johnny copied her, following the words with his finger.

‘Can I have this melon filled with fresh fruit?’ he asked his father. ‘Sorbet’s a kind of ice cream, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, and this is raspberry sorbet. Good choice. I think I’ll have the same.’

‘Steak with peaches? That sounds nice. I never ate steak with fruit before.’

‘Excellent,’ Randal said, as if not quite listening. His forehead was lined; he looked abstracted.

Watching him from behind lowered lashes, Pippa caught the frowning look he threw across the room at his wife and wished she knew precisely what was going on inside his head. Clearly it had thrown him to see Renata here—but just what sort of shock had it been? There was a streak of dark red across his strong cheekbones, a little tic under one eye. Randal was trying to seem calm and in control, but obviously he was nothing of the kind.

The waiter came and took their order. She had melon, too, with fruit and the raspberry sorbet, followed by halibut in a light orange sauce.

Johnny talked excitedly about an adventure trip he had been taken on by the school the