Modern Romance August 2018 Books 1-4 Collection. Tara Pammi

breakfast. She told herself it was hunger which made her consider his suggestion—it definitely wasn’t because she was reluctant to see him walk out of her life for a second time. But then she looked at her damp jeans and realised what a mess she looked. ‘I can’t possibly go out looking like this.’

      ‘You could go home first and get changed.’ He gave a small inclination of his head. ‘I have a car here.’

      Tamsyn stiffened as a black limousine began to drive slowly towards them. Was he out of his mind? Did he really think she’d let someone like him within a mile of her scrubby little bedsit? She could just imagine the shock on his over-privileged face if he caught sight of the damp walls and the electric kettle which was covered in lime-scale. ‘I live miles away.’

      ‘Then let’s just go to the Granchester.’

      Tamsyn nearly choked as he casually mentioned the exclusive hotel where her sister used to work before being fired for sleeping with one of the guests. ‘The Granchester is just about the most expensive hotel in London,’ she objected. ‘We’ll never be able to get a table at this short notice, and even if we could there’s no way I could go somewhere like that for dinner, wearing this.’

      ‘Oh, we’ll a get a table,’ he said smoothly, as the limousine drew up beside them. ‘And my cousin’s wife Emma is staying there at the moment. You look about the same size as her. She’ll lend you something to wear.’

      Tamsyn shook her head. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous. I can’t possibly borrow a dress from a complete stranger!’

      ‘Of course you can.’ He spoke with the confidence of someone unused to being thwarted, as he opened the door of the car and gently pushed her inside. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll fix it.’

      Afterwards Tamsyn would put her uncharacteristic compliance down to his distracting presence, or maybe it was just his sheer certainty. She’d never experienced the sensation of a man taking control of a situation in such an unflappable way. She wasn’t used to someone offering to fix things. She was used to drama and chaos. She wondered if there was some biological chink in her armour which made her yield to his superior strength, or whether she’d just had the stuffing knocked out of her by the loss of yet another job? Either way, she found herself climbing into the back of the taxi with Xan sliding next to her as they began to drive at speed through the rain, towards the Granchester.

      The rain-blurred lights of the city passed in a streak while Xan made a phone call. She heard him say her name as he began speaking in rapid Greek, before laughing at something the person on the end of the line must have said. And it was the laugh which made Tamsyn’s heart clench with unexpected wistfulness. Imagine living the kind of life where you could just jump into the back of a limousine without worrying about the cost, and laugh so uninhibitedly as you chatted on the phone—as if you didn’t have a care in the world.

      Like a glittering citadel, the Granchester Hotel rose up before them and as the car slid to a halt, a doorman sprang forward to greet Xan like an old friend. The flower-filled foyer was busy as expensively dressed guests milled around, looking as if they had somewhere important to go. A woman was walking purposefully towards them, one of the most beautiful women Tamsyn had ever seen. Slim and smiling, her hair was as pale as moonlight and she was wearing a short blue dress which hugged her hips and a tiny cardigan just a shade darker.

      ‘Xan!’ she said fondly, rising up on the toes of her ballet pumps to kiss the Greek tycoon on both cheeks, before turning to Tamsyn with a wide smile. ‘And you must be Tamsyn,’ she said. ‘I’m Emma and I’m married to Xan’s cousin. I gather you need something to wear for dinner tonight and time is tight—so why don’t you come with me and I can sort you something out?’

      It was weird—maybe because Emma was so polite and so...gracious—that Tamsyn didn’t find herself frozen by her usual air of suspicion. Instead, she smiled back and the three of them walked over to an elevator which nobody else seemed to be using. And of course, the presence of Emma in the enclosed space meant that Tamsyn’s conversation with Xan was temporarily interrupted, although she couldn’t help but be acutely aware of his presence and the mocking light in his eyes. What on earth have I got myself into? she wondered as the elevator slid to a silent halt and they stepped directly into an enormous room whose wall to ceiling windows gave a stunning view over the glittering skyscrapers of London.

      ‘Xan, why don’t you help yourself to a drink?’ Emma gave another soft smile. ‘Tamsyn, come with me.’

      In a dream-like state, Tamsyn followed the elegant blonde down a long corridor and into a dressing room which led off from an huge bedroom. Maybe if she hadn’t just lost her job for the umpteenth time and maybe if the image of her tiny bedsit hadn’t just flashed into her mind, then she might have told Emma she’d changed her mind, thanked her for her kind offer and just left. Xan might be keen to put some mysterious ‘proposition’ to her, but despite what she suspected was his tendency to always get his own way—she doubted whether he would actually try to keep her here by force.

      But she didn’t do any of those things. Perhaps it was the blonde’s serene presence or just the fact that Tamsyn was tired. Bone tired. As if she could sleep for a hundred years and then maybe a hundred more. So she nodded politely as Emma ran her perfectly manicured fingernails—a deep shade of blue which matched her cardigan—along a line of colour-co-ordinated clothes hanging in the biggest closet Tamsyn had ever seen.

      ‘I’m not going to stand over you and influence your choice,’ she told Tamsyn softly. ‘Just wear whatever takes your fancy—and that includes shoes, if they fit. I’ll go and entertain your man and see you back in the sitting room.’

      Mutely, Tamsyn nodded. She wanted to tell Emma that Xan wasn’t her anything but surely that was an over-complicating factor and things were complicated enough already. Her heart was racing as she quickly washed in the en-suite bathroom before slithering into a long-sleeved dress in green cashmere which she cinched in at the waist with a belt. Her tiny feet swam like boats in tall Emma’s sleek footwear so she packed the toes of some green suede shoes with wads of tissue paper. Liberating her curls from their elastic band, she raked a comb through them in a vain attempt to tame them and, tucking her own damp clothes under her arm, walked back towards the sitting room.

      She was surprised to hear Emma speaking in Greek to Xan, but the conversation died away as she walked into the massive room. She couldn’t deny the inordinate amount of pleasure she took from the look of disbelief on Xan’s face as slowly he looked her up and down. It reminded her that she really could scrub up well—even if she had to rely on the charity of other people in order to do so.

      The tycoon was rising to his feet, dominating the room with his powerful presence, a faint smile curving his lips. ‘I’ve told Emma we have a table booked downstairs.’

      It seemed almost rude to just use the kind blonde’s apartment like some kind of upmarket changing room, but Emma was also getting to her feet, giving Tamsyn another genuine smile which made her feel momentarily disconcerted.

      ‘And Zac is just flying in from Zurich,’ she said, her cheeks growing pink with pleasure. ‘Where it appears that my husband has bought yet another hotel.’

      It was only then that Tamsyn made the connection and she wondered how she could have been so dense. Emma was married to Zac Constantinides—the billionaire owner of the Granchester group of luxury hotels and Zac was Xan’s cousin? Why hadn’t Hannah reminded her of that? As the lift zoomed them back down to the hotel foyer, she wondered why she hadn’t made the link herself, when it wasn’t exactly the most common surname in the world. Probably because her mind and her body had been so full of new and conflicting emotions. And they still were. Surreptitiously, she touched her tongue to lips which were as dry as washing hung out in the sun, achingly aware that she was far from immune to the statuesque man who walked beside her.

      They were shown into Garden Room, which overlooked an outdoor space which was surprisingly big, given its central London location. A discreet notice on the wall informed customers that the gardens had recently won a top horticultural award and although