Slowly, she drew the ring off her finger. ‘It’s beautiful, but I don’t think it’s really me,’ she said. She put it down on the velvet tray and pointed to a dazzling band of square-cut diamonds.
‘May I try that one?’
Rafe picked it up and took her left hand so that he could slide it onto her finger. ‘It fits perfectly, Cinderella,’ he said and, although he was smiling, there was an expression in his eyes that made Miranda’s heart trip.
‘So it does,’ she said breathlessly.
‘Does that make me Prince Charming?’ asked Rafe.
He was acting, too, Miranda reminded herself. Firmly, she brought her breathing back under control. ‘I think it must do!’ she said with what she hoped was a flirtatious look.
‘A very stylish choice,’ the jeweller approved.
Miranda turned her hand this way and that to admire the dazzle of the diamonds and then smiled at Rafe, the personification of a besotted fiancee. ‘May I have this one, darling?’ At least she didn’t need to worry about whether he could afford it or not. He could have bought the whole shop without so much as a dent in his bank account.
‘You can have whatever you want,’ he told her, his voice deep and warm and his smile appreciative of the effort she was making.
The diamonds flashed in the light as Miranda laid her hand against his cheek. ‘Thank you,’ she said softly.
With one part of her mind she was aware that this was the kind of thing a girl would do when her fiance had bought her a beautiful ring, but the other part wasn’t thinking at all. It was just that he was there, smiling at her, and her hand had lifted of its own accord.
He was freshly shaved and his skin was smooth and warm beneath her fingers. If she had been thinking, she would have left it as a brief caress, but it felt so good to touch him that Miranda’s hand lingered. Still smiling, Rafe turned his head, lifting his own hand at the same time to capture hers so that he could press a kiss against her palm.
It was a very gentle kiss, with none of the wild excitement they had shared at the door to Rosie’s flat, but Miranda felt it right down to her toes. His lips were warm and sure and infinitely exciting, and when he parted them to touch the tip of his tongue to her skin an erotic shock jolted through her.
Heat flooded through her, swamping her with a dizzying rush of desire and driving everything else from her head. She forgot the jeweller, watching benevolently. She forgot the role she was supposed to be playing. She forgot everything, in fact, except Rafe, Rafe with his blue, smiling eyes and his warm, smiling mouth and his lean, masculine, irresistible body.
Miranda wanted to climb onto his lap, and pull her hand away from his lips so that she could press her mouth to his, and kiss him properly. She wanted to taste that wickedly delicious tongue and twine her own around it. And that wouldn’t be enough, either. She wanted to pull off that immaculately knotted tie and unbutton his pristine shirt and drag it off him. She wanted to fall with him off the ridiculously spindly chair and make love right there on the expensive carpet.
The yearning was so strong that the breath snarled in Miranda’s throat, and her heart pounded. She was terrified by how clearly she could imagine it, how much she wanted it. By how close she had come to losing control and simply launching herself at him.
Terrified? There was that word again.
Miranda caught herself up just in time. She wasn’t terrified of anything, remember?
A little shakily, she drew her hand away. See, she was perfectly in control. Tilting her chin, she gave Rafe a brilliant smile.
In spite of her bravado, Miranda still felt boneless and unsteady when they left the jeweller’s. Rafe opened the door for her, and his hand at the small of her back seemed to burn through her shirt.
‘Where are you meeting Octavia?’
‘Harvey Nichols.’
‘I’ll get you a taxi.’
Rafe had barely lifted a hand before a black cab on the other side of the road turned right across four lanes of traffic to pull smartly up to the kerb in front of them.
Miranda eyed him with something close to resentment, although truth to tell she was also relieved to find that irritation had dissipated at least some of that agonising awareness. It was much easier to remember that this was all just a pretence when Rafe was making arrogant assumptions about what she wanted.
‘What if I’d wanted to take the bus?’
But Rafe only grinned at her expression. ‘Now, don’t spoil it, Miranda,’ he said, opening the door with a flourish. ‘Or should I call you darling? You’ve been doing a wonderful impression of a besotted fiancee so far!’
Miranda’s gaze slid away from his. Only minutes ago she had been fantasising about ripping his clothes off and making love on the carpet, she remembered uncomfortably. What if Rafe had been able to read the naked desire in her eyes? She cringed at the thought. As if he didn’t find her amusing enough as it was!
She lifted her chin and bared her teeth at him as she got into the taxi. ‘Just doing what I’m being paid for,
‘If you carry on like that for a month, you’ll be worth every penny of that twenty-five grand!’ said Rafe. He handed the driver a note through the window and told him to take Miranda to Knightsbridge.
‘I’ll meet you later,’ he said, preparing to close the door on her. ‘I’m putting you in Octavia’s hands, remember. I’ve given her a credit card, so you’re to let her use it,’ he added with mock sternness. ‘I want to see you transformed!’ And before Miranda had a chance to object, he had shut the door and banged on the roof of the taxi to tell the cabbie to drive on.
Rather to Miranda’s surprise, Octavia was waiting for her as promised. Naturally, she spotted the ring right away.
‘Ooh, that is
Miranda had been a little nervous about how Octavia would react to news of the engagement. Expecting scornful disbelief that she had apparently captured someone like Rafe, she had been astounded when Octavia had barely blinked.
‘I
‘You
‘It was just something about the way you and Rafe were dancing together,’ said Octavia carelessly. ‘Not that my nose isn’t severely out of joint,’ she went on, wagging a perfectly manicured finger at Miranda and pretending to sound cross. ‘Now I’m going to have to find myself another billionaire!’
She had taken it so well, in fact, that Miranda felt guilty about not telling her the truth, but they had agreed that not even Rafe’s grandmother would know that the engagement wasn’t a real one. As Rafe pointed out, if it came out that they had been fooling everyone, he could wave goodbye to any chance of ever being taken seriously.
‘What we need is to make sure everyone knows about our engagement without looking as if we want any publicity,’ he said. He had proposed leaking the news to a journalist, but Miranda had pooh-poohed that idea.
‘I’ll just tell Belinda and Octavia, and swear them to secrecy,’ she said. ‘It’ll be all over town in no time at all.’
Sure enough, a snippet had already appeared in the gossip column of an evening paper, and an extraordinary number of school friends Miranda hadn’t heard from for years had rung her up to congratulate her enviously and angle for invitations to the wedding.
Belinda was beside herself with excitement and was already pestering Miranda to set a date and pick a designer for her dress. Octavia had been rather more restrained, though her eyes had lit up when Rafe had handed her a credit card and charged her to transform Miranda’s wardrobe.
‘And you’re not to let Miranda take charge of this,’ he instructed her. ‘She’ll just choose the cheapest thing there is and give what’s left to a dogs’ home!’
Now Miranda hugged her sister and let her admire the ring, but she was conscious that Octavia had been preoccupied recently, and that, although she was as lovely as ever, she wasn’t her usual frivolous self. She hadn’t been paying her little sister enough attention, Miranda thought guiltily. It would be good to spend a day together and find out what was going on.
‘Is everything OK, Tavvy?’ she asked as they stepped onto the escalator. ‘You look tired.’
