Waiting For Mr. Wonderful!. Stephanie Howard

address in the phone book.’

      ‘I see.’ Her growing anxiety made it easy to resist his smile this time. Georgia fixed him with a sharp look. ‘And what’s this matter you wish to discuss with me? It must, as you say, be important for you to have put yourself to all this trouble.’ In spite of her calm tone, she could feel her heart thumping.

      ‘It is also rather urgent.’ His expression had grown serious. As he paused, Georgia could feel his eyes scour her face. ‘So let’s not waste any more time. Let’s go somewhere private and discuss it.’

      He made as though to step past her and head for the front door of her flat.

      ‘Just a minute!’ At the harsh note in her voice, Georgia saw him hesitate. ‘This important, urgent matter...does it in any way concern my shop?’ She held her breath, fearing she knew what his answer would be, but praying with every fibre of her being that she was wrong.

      She was not wrong. He looked straight at her. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It does.’

      The words seemed to hang for a moment in the air, dark and menacing, sending a rush of panic through her. So her tormentors had not given up, after all.

      Until Kay had told her about Lasalle’s visit this afternoon, Georgia had dared to believe that all her recent headaches were finally over. It had actually begun to look as though the Paris-based company who, six weeks ago, had begun an all-out campaign to persuade her to sell her thriving little clothes shop had finally accepted that it wasn’t for sale. They would never get their hands on her beloved Georgia D, no matter what dirty tricks they employed.

      She took a deep breath and looked Lasalle straight in the eye. ‘In that case, you’ll have to talk to my solicitors.’

      Her voice was stiff with contempt as she reeled off their names. On the surface, Lasalle appeared to be a rather different type from the other couple of envoys who’d been sent over to harass her, but beneath the glossy exterior he was no doubt just another thug who took pleasure in bullying a defenceless woman.

      ‘You’ll have no trouble tracking them down,’ she added with a cool smile. ‘They’re listed in the phone book which you’re already so familiar with. Just give them a ring. I’m sure they’ll be most helpful.’

      Dismissively, she turned away, about to stride past him to the front door.

      He moved faster than a viper. Before she’d taken a single step, Lasalle was standing in front of her, blocking her path.

      ‘You surprise me. I had imagined that, considering recent events, you’d be a little more interested in hearing what I have to say.’

      Considering recent events. How about that for a perfectly blatant attempt at intimidation? As a couple of those recent events went flashing through her brain—the mysterious fire in the storeroom that had damaged most of her stock, the dispute over her lease that had almost lost her the shop—Georgia felt her contempt for him instantly double.

      ‘I’m sure my solicitors will be interested.’ She barely glanced at him as she spoke. ‘Give them a ring. Make an appointment to speak to them. But now, if you don’t mind, get out of my way.’

      ‘It’s not your solicitors I wish to speak to.’ He remained precisely where he was, fixing her with a look that seemed to pierce right through her skull. ‘The person I’ve come here to Bath to speak to, Miss Dee, is you.’

      ‘That’s really too bad, I’m afraid, Monsieur Lasalle. I don’t waste my time speaking to people like you.’

      Her eyes flashed back at him, her cheeks pink with anger. What right did he think he had to take this overbearing attitude?

      ‘So, what I would suggest is that you move out of my way, now, then just get off my property and go back to wherever it was you came from.’

      She’d expected him at least to look a little put out by this attack, which had been delivered in her most lethally cutting tone of voice. But, instead, he simply looked into her furious face and smiled.

      One dark eyebrow lifted. ‘Is this,’ he wanted to know, addressing her as though she were some disrespectful child who’d just had the temerity to talk out of turn, ‘the way you generally treat people who are trying to help you?’

      ‘Help me?’

      ‘Yes, help you. That is what I’m trying to do.’

      This was a new twist. ‘And in what way are you trying to help me?’ Georgia feigned a look of curiosity. What kind of idiot did he take her for?

      The cobalt-blue eyes narrowed. ‘You may not be aware of it, but you’re in serious danger of losing your business. I came here to try to help you hang onto it.’

      Another new twist. So, he was a white knight come to rescue her? He really must think she was totally naive!

      Georgia fixed him with a cool look. ‘That’s terribly decent of you, but it just so happens that I don’t need your help. I’m perfectly capable of hanging onto my business by myself.’

      She paused for a moment, then added with a mocking smile, ‘What makes you think I’d fall for a ridiculous story like that, anyway? Why on earth would I believe that you want to help me? Why would you want to do that? You don’t even know me.’

      ‘Very true. I don’t. But I know a little about you, and I also know something about your situation...’ Before she could butt in and demand to know why he was so interested, he elaborated, a sudden harsh smile on his lips, ‘Actually, I would say I know more about your situation than you do if you seriously believe you can handle this thing yourself.’

      ‘What thing?’

      ‘The takeover bid.’

      A tingle of fear ran down her spine. Ignoring it, she told him, ‘You’re a little out of date. I have reason to believe that the takeover bid’s been dropped.’

      ‘Really? Well, it would certainly be nice if you were right. After all your hard work building up your shop from nothing to become one of the most highly regarded fashion shops in the south of England, it would be a tragedy if it were to end up in the hands of someone else. I can appreciate that’s the last thing you’d want to see happen.’

      ‘You’re dead right. It is. And it’s the last thing that’s going to happen. Nobody’s going to get their hands on my shop.’

      He was watching her. ‘I admire your confidence,’ he told her. ‘But alas, I very much fear it’s misplaced.’ He paused. ‘Perhaps you don’t appreciate the full extent of what you’re up against. Duval’s not the kind of man to give up on something he really wants.’

      Duval. At the sound of that hated name, quite involuntarily, Georgia’s fists clenched. The owner of the French fashion chain which had been trying to buy her shop, Duval had come personally to pay her a visit once, seeking to win her round with a mixture of promises and veiled threats. And, though she’d no actual proof, she was totally convinced that Duval had been behind the series of events—including the storeroom fire and the wrangle over her lease—which had suddenly started happening after she’d refused to play ball.

      Georgia didn’t scare easily, but Duval had scared her. For a time, it had looked as though he might manage to drive her out of business.

      She felt a chill touch her skin now as, in a clinical tone, Lasalle spelled out to her, ‘Your shop is perfect for Duval. Just what he’s been searching for to provide him with a foothold so he can start expanding into Britain. And, believe me, he’s absolutely determined to have it.’

      ‘You would know that, of course.’ Anger and disgust filled her and she made no attempt to keep them from her voice. ‘Since it’s perfectly clear that you’re one of his lackeys. You’re a little different from the others, of course. Not quite so crude. I congratulate Duval on his subtle change of tactics.

      ‘But it’s not going to work. I’m going to give you exactly the