Magnate's Make-Believe Mistress by Bronwyn Jameson Read Free Book Online

their waitress approaching, but he delayed her with the barest of signals. “What about you, Isabelle Browne with an e, ” he asked, deliberately choosing the phrase Hugh had quoted from her phone call. But he saw nothing in her eyes except lively amusement. “Have you lived around here for a long time?”
    â€œI’ve lived in Melbourne most of my life, and here on the peninsula for the past six years.”
    â€œYou really are a local.”
    â€œYep.” The smile in her eyes teased the corners of her mouth and tickled his libido. “In the past twenty years I haven’t been any farther than one holiday to Bali.”
    â€œYou have no ambition to see the world?”
    â€œOh, I’d love to travel, but I’m afraid that ambition has been put on hold. At the moment I have other priorities.”
    She spoke evenly, furnishing the information with matter-of-fact ease, but there was something going on behind her eyes and a tension in the edges of her smile. Other priorities. That could encompass a multitude of possibilities, but one blared loud in Cristo’s mind.
    Pregnancy.
    The reminder of what had brought them to this place, this conversation, chilled the relaxed heat in his veins. He’d not forgotten his purpose, but he’d allowed his enjoyment of her company to colour his perception. No more. Straightening in his seat, he signalled the waitress. “We should order. What do you fancy?”
    The worry creases between her brows deepened as she scanned the menu again. “Everything is so…much.”
    Everything was exactly as she’d described it that morning—simple ingredients, with a twist. “Do you mean the prices?” he asked, taking a second look before shrugging dismissively. “Compared with London, these are modest.”
    â€œPerhaps for you,” she murmured.
    â€œSince I’m paying, let’s not make it a problem for you.” He reached across and removed the menu from her hand. Leaning back in his chair, he smiled at the waitress. “What do you recommend, Kate?”
    He took control of the ordering with the confident command Isabelle expected of a man from his background. Polo, wealth, privilege. Argentina, England, Italy. No wonderhe’d struck her as exotic and expensive. Little wonder he’d taken zero-point-five seconds to charm the waitress, Kate, into a flirtatious smile. The pretty redhead had tripped over herself to assist with wine-matching recommendations along with the food choices.
    This all served as a sobering reminder to Isabelle of the vast chasm in their circumstances. The kick she felt low in her belly when he looked at her a certain way, when he laughed at something she’d said, when he’d placed a hand low on her back to usher her toward their table—she wasn’t used to having a delicious man like Cristo Verón pay attention to her. As he’d pointed out, she was not the type to respond to flattery. Not that she couldn’t enjoy the experience, but she was too sensible to forget her place.
    This was work, and she took the opportunity to reinforce that fact when the wine arrived. Even after saying she would be sticking to water, Cristo plucked the bottle from the ice bucket with an aim to pouring for her. She placed her hand over the glass and fixed him with a steady look. “I haven’t changed my mind.”
    Apparently he took that as a challenge, because his gaze narrowed on hers. “You do not like my choice?”
    â€œI’m sure it is a very fine choice—” after all of the confab between him and Kate, how could it not be? “—but I don’t drink when I’m working.”
    â€œSurely one glass would not hurt.”
    â€œSurely you don’t mean to tempt me when I’m acting as your driver.”
    For a long moment their gazes clashed, and she wondered if the dark intensity of his was a response to being thwarted. She