FORGOTTEN LOVER, Carole Mortimer [chrysanthemum read aloud TXT] 📗

a little unusual, aren’t you?’ He fell into step beside her as they entered the hotel.

‘Am I?’ she quirked an eyebrow at him.

‘You sure are. I like you, Velvet Dale.’

‘Mrs Velvet Dale,’ she said pointedly.

Greg frowned. ‘You’re married?’

‘Widowed.’

‘At your age?’

She shrugged. ‘It happens. Besides, twenty-two isn’t young any more.’

He pulled a face. ‘What does that make me at thirty?’

‘Ancient!’ She laughed, the laugh dying in her throat as she became aware of piercing blue eyes watching her.

The man called Jerard was walking in the direction of the lift, his fierce gaze fixed savagely on her as she talked to Greg. And he looked furious, so much so that Velvet stayed talking to Greg while the other man got into the lift. She daren’t get in there with him, there was no telling what he would do if she did.

It took ages for the lift to come back down again, but luckily it was now empty. She hoped that man’s room wouldn’t be anywhere near hers.

She hadn’t really brought many evening dresses with her, not realising she would be dining with their important client. She wouldn’t wear anything too daring, at his age she might give him a heart attack. Charles Daniels must be at least seventy by now. No wonder Paul had warned against the black gown—it really was too seductively daring.

The brown one was ideal, attractive without being too revealing. Her hair was newly washed and gleaming, her make-up light and unobtrusive. She looked beautiful enough to make an impression but not to raise the poor man’s blood pressure.

‘Perfect,’ Paul told her when they called for her.

He was looking very distinguished himself in a black evening suit and white shirt, Carly as beautiful as usual in a clinging black gown.

‘How was Ocean World?’ Velvet asked them in the lift on the way up to the penthouse suite.

‘Well?’ Carly looked at Paul for the answer.

‘It was—it was good, very good,’ he admitted grudgingly. ‘Okay, okay,’ he sighed at Carly’s triumphant look, ‘so I enjoyed myself.’

‘You’ll have to go. Velvet,’ the other girl said enthusiastically. ‘If Grouchy here liked it then you know it was good.’

Velvet nodded. ‘I’ll see if I can get there some time tomorrow. I wanted to call my brother this afternoon.’

They stepped out of the lift. ‘How’s Tony?’ Paul enquired.

‘Wrecking the place, as usual,’ she laughed, looking around her appreciatively. ‘This is something, hmm?’

Paul nodded, their surroundings luxurious in the extreme. ‘Wait until you meet our host, he’s more than just something.’

Velvet laughed. ‘Seventy-year-old men don’t really appeal to me.’ Paul frowned. ‘Seventy-year-old—? He isn’t seventy, Velvet.’

‘But Charles Daniels—’

‘Died two years ago. His son’s been in charge ever since.’

She blinked. ‘His son?’

‘Yes, Velvet,’ a man appeared from a room to the left of them, a man with startlingly familiar fierce blue eyes. ‘I took over from my father,’ he confirmed his identity as Charles Daniels’ son.

She went pale. This man was the man who had stopped her in reception earlier, the man who claimed to know her—he was Jerard Daniels! Paul was right, he was more than just something, he was overpowering in the white dinner jacket and black trousers, every inch the powerful businessman he undoubtedly was.

He came forward to take her hand, the intensity of his gaze not allowing for the other couple in the room. ‘We meet again, Velvet,’ he said huskily.

She was mesmerised, held immobile by the intimacy of his expression. ‘I—Yes,’ she confirmed stupidly.

‘The two of you have met before?’ Paul sounded puzzled.

‘I—’

‘A couple of years ago,’ Jerard Daniels answered for her. ‘Although Velvet chooses not to remember that,’ he added harshly.

‘I don’t choose to, Mr Daniels,’ she snapped. ‘It happens to be the truth.’

‘But I remember you—vividly.’

She blushed at the familiarity in his eyes, her smile strained. ‘I’m sorry,’ she shook her head, ‘but I really have no recollection …’

‘Never mind,’ he put her hand in the crook of his arm, smiling at the other couple. ‘Shall we go through and have a drink before dinner?’

For the next fifteen minutes he was everything the polite host should be, although he didn’t let Velvet leave his side, his hand snaking out to grasp her wrist if she should attempt to do so.

He frightened her. There was about him an air of suppressed violence, a dangerous quality to him that disturbed her.

‘Have you lived in Florida long, Mr Daniels?’ Carly asked him as they ate their dinner, Velvet placed opposite him at the long table.

‘Jerard,’ he put in smoothly. ‘And I don’t live here, Carly. I’m only here at all because Velvet is.’

‘Oh.’ Carly sounded unsure of his direct answer.

Colour blazed in Velvet’s cheeks at the puzzled glances Paul and Carly kept shooting her. This man was embarrassing her, was giving her friends the impression that they had a relationship. ‘Is your wife with you, Mr Daniels?’ she asked waspishly.

His expression darkened, his gaze rapier-sharp as he looked at her. ‘My wife is dead, Velvet,’ he rasped.

‘Oh!’ She moved uncomfortably. ‘I—I’m sorry.’

‘She isn’t,’ he said abruptly. ‘To die from heart disease isn’t very pleasant.’

‘Oh.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘And your husband is dead too.’

She blinked at him, bewildered by his knowledge of her when she knew absolutely nothing about him. ‘He died in a flying accident,’ she supplied.

‘I know that too—you were a passenger. You were carrying his child at the time.’

She swallowed hard. ‘I—Yes.’

In that moment Jerard Daniels looked satanic, as if he would like to hit out and hurt someone. He seemed to control this urge with effort. ‘You have a son,’ he said in a curious flat voice.

‘Tony, yes.’

‘Named after his father.’

‘I—yes. You see, Anthony never saw him. He was born on the day Anthony died.’ She didn’t know why she was explaining herself to this man, her life with Anthony had nothing whatsoever to do with him.

‘I have a daughter,’ Jerard Daniels told her.

‘You do?’ she asked interestedly, her assumption that this man wasn’t father material instantly contradicted.

He was watching her closely. ‘She’s eight years old.’

‘Is she here with you?’ Carly