Wife By Approval. Lee Wilkinson

listened, his dark eyes fixed on her face.

      Thrown by the intentness of his gaze, she momentarily lost the thread.

      Then, realising he was waiting, she carried on a shade distractedly, ‘Her boyfriend is in London and expecting to stay with her. But her flat is really only a bedsit, so you see I have to find a hotel.’

      It seemed like a heaven-sent opportunity and, his thoughts racing, he said, ‘That shouldn’t be a problem. There are plenty of hotels in London. You don’t have any particular preference?’

      ‘No, anywhere will do…So long as it’s not too expensive,’ she added hurriedly.

      But, judging by his clothes and his car, he wouldn’t have to consider expense, so he was hardly likely to know any of the cheaper places. And she couldn’t expect him to go touring London on her behalf when he’d already been held up and inconvenienced.

      Recalling her earlier thought, she said, ‘I’m not sure if it’s still there, but there used to be a small hotel quite close to here, on Mather Street…I think it was called the Fairbourn…’

      His well-marked brows drew together over a straight nose. ‘If it’s the place I’m thinking of, I wouldn’t say it was particularly prepossessing.’

      So long as it was clean and respectable, she wasn’t in a position to be over-fussy. ‘As it’s only for three nights, I can manage.’

      Three nights suited his purpose even better, he thought jubilantly.

      Things had been going smoothly, but the business trip he’d been forced to take had cost him precious time and they had managed to trace her much faster than he’d anticipated.

      Hence the sudden need for drastic action.

      Which had worked so far, he reminded himself. But with so much at stake, he simply couldn’t afford to mess things up.

      ‘As the Fairbourn may well have closed down,’ he said smoothly, ‘and it’s hardly the sort of night to be touring the town in search of accommodation, I suggest you come home with me.’

      CHAPTER TWO

      WHEN, staggered, wondering what he had in mind, Tina simply stared at him, he repeated evenly, ‘Come home with me.’

      Knowing what kind of woman she was, he hadn’t expected much in the way of opposition and was shaken when she said, as if she meant it, ‘I couldn’t possibly do that.’

      ‘Why not? There’s a perfectly good guest room standing empty.’

      Though she was reassured by the mention of a guest room, there were other considerations. A mature man in his late twenties or early thirties, he might well be married. ‘Thank you,’ she began, ‘but I—’

      ‘It makes sense to come for tonight at least,’ he broke in decidedly. ‘Then tomorrow, if you want to move into a hotel, you’d have all day to find somewhere suitable.’

      Rather than ask if he was married, she said, ‘What on earth would your wife say?’

      ‘As I don’t have a wife, not a lot.’

      He hadn’t a wife. Her spirits rose with a bound.

      Then common sense took over. If he hadn’t a wife, he would almost certainly have a live-in lover.

      ‘But you must have…I mean there must be…’

      ‘A woman around?’ he supplied quizzically.

      ‘Well…yes.’

      ‘Oh, there is.’

      Though she had half expected it, her heart sank.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said carefully. ‘It’s very kind of you to suggest it, but—’

      He sighed. ‘Now I’ve put you off and I thought you’d feel easier, knowing there was another woman around the place.’

      She shook her head. ‘I really think I should go to a hotel. It’ll be far less trouble for—’

      ‘Oh, Gwen won’t mind,’ he said easily.

      If she was living with him she wouldn’t be too happy if he brought a woman home he didn’t even know. Decidedly, she began, ‘I’m quite sure your girlfriend would—’

      ‘Oh, Gwen’s not my girlfriend. She’s my housekeeper. A very upright woman,’ he added solemnly. ‘A pillar of the church and so forth.’

      Feeling as though she was on a roller coaster and with the disturbing impression that he was enjoying teasing her, Tina frowned.

      ‘Is that a problem?’ he asked, straight faced. ‘Do you have anything against religious women?’

      ‘Of course not,’ she began. Then, seeing the wicked gleam in his eye, she stopped speaking and gritted her teeth.

      ‘In that case it’s all settled,’ he announced calmly and let in the clutch.

      He had managed it so smoothly that they had pulled out of the car park and joined the evening stream of traffic that flowed down Lansdale Road before she could gather her wits enough to assess the situation.

      Though she was very attracted to him and wanted to be with him, the voice of caution warned that to meekly go off with a man she knew nothing about was reckless in the extreme.

      Just because he was well-dressed and well-spoken and had a big expensive car, it didn’t necessarily mean that he was trustworthy.

      As her mother would have phrased it, he might have designs on her.

      Though why should he?

      She was tall and slim with good skin and neatish features, but she was nothing to write home about, certainly not the sort to drive men wild.

      And a man with his looks and charisma wouldn’t be short of lady friends. In fact, with so much going for him he wouldn’t need to lift a finger to have eager females queuing up.

      But, apart from that, there was something about him, she felt, a kind of basic integrity that was oddly reassuring. And this might well be her one and only chance to get to know him. If she insisted on being dropped off at a hotel, in all probability she would never see him again.

      The thought was like a hand squeezing her heart.

      It didn’t seem possible for a quiet, self-contained woman like herself to feel so strongly about a man she had only just met and didn’t know.

      Yet she did.

      Throwing caution to the wind, she asked, ‘Where do you live?’

      His build-up of tension relaxing, he smiled. ‘I’ve a house in Pemberley Square, close to St James’s Park.’

      ‘Oh…’A far cry from Mather Street and the Fairbourn Hotel.

      ‘As we’ll be spending the night…’ He paused. ‘I was about to say together…but, as that might be misconstrued, I’ll say under the same roof, I think we should introduce ourselves, don’t you? My name’s Richard Anders.’

      ‘Mine’s Tina Dunbar.’

      ‘Tina?’ He sounded surprised.

      ‘Short for Valentina,’ she explained reluctantly.

      He gave her a sideways glance and, his voice casual, asked, ‘Is Valentina a family name?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Born on February the fourteenth?’

      She nodded. ‘That’s right. Though these days Valentine is used for either sex, unfortunately my mother preferred to stick with the feminine form.’

      ‘Unfortunately?’

      ‘Valentina is a bit of a mouthful.’

      ‘I