A Risky Business #SYTYCW15 #CarinaPress

Chapter Three

Back in LA - it's a sultry evening ...

I'd had a lovely, long shower in my very expensive hotel room (thanks, Dad!), washed my hair and was now standing in front of the open wardrobe trying to decide what to wear. I wished I'd bought my favourite blue dress, but then I hadn't exactly been expecting to be going out in the evenings. I'd have to go for the traditional little black number, and hope that I didn't look too 'done up' - this was still business after all.

I added some chunky turquoise costume jewellery to try to soften the look a little and chose a pair of wedges rather than my traditional heels. I was just wondering whether to pin my hair up or leave it down when the telephone on the bedside table rang.

"Miss Weston?"

"Yes."

"There's a Mr Sparkes in reception for you."

I didn't know why, but that statement not only bought a smile to my lips, but also made my tummy do a little flip.

"Miss Weston?" she repeated.

"Yes, sorry. Could you tell him I'll be down in a moment please?"

"Of course, Miss Weston." The receptionist sounded only too pleased to pass my message onto the delectable Mr Sparkes who had probably already been entertaining her with his charming English accent. Well, she could have him for the next few minutes, but it was me that he was going to be spending the evening with. I mean, for the purposes of discussing important contractual matters, of course.

Deciding to leave my hair loose around my shoulders, I applied a last slick of lip gloss, picked up my clutch bag and made my way downstairs. As predicted, he was leaning on the desk chatting up the receptionist, and, also as predicted, she was loving it. All I could hear as I walked across the lobby was her giggling as she flirted with him like crazy. At that moment I wished that I had gone for the heels, as at least their clicking on the marble floor would have announced my arrival. Instead I had to settle for clearing my throat to attract their attention.

The receptionist, to give her her due, instantly regained her professional composure and fixed me with her well-practised corporate smile. Damien stopped leaning on the desk and stepped towards me to kiss me on both cheeks. He looked great, and he smelt divine.

"Kate," he said, "how lovely to see you again, you look beautiful."

"Mr Sparkes," I said very deliberately. "Shall we go?"

"Sure," he said. Then to the receptionist he added, "Bye, Letitia."

I rolled my eyes.

"Good evening, Mr Sparkes, hope to see you again soon."

Yeah, I bet you do, I thought.

Damien didn't answer her, but offered me his arm, which I accepted. We walked together out of the hotel and onto the busy Los Angeles street and Letitia, on this occasion anyway, accepted defeat.

"I've booked us a table at a place called Gigi's," he said. "I understand it's just around the corner. I thought we'd walk, unless you'd prefer to take a cab of course," he added.

I knew exactly how far it was. Gigi's is my favourite restaurant and I have eaten there many times over the years. In fact I knew the owners and, indeed, some of the waiting staff quite well and I wondered what they would make of me suddenly turning up with Damien by my side.

Pushing away any worries or doubts that might have been trying to creep into my mind, I smiled up at him and said,

"It's such a lovely evening. Let's walk."