Nine Lives - Danielle Steel Page 0,44
it. He wants to stay in the States, doing the same things forever. I’ll never get him out of here. Maybe you and I should go on a trip,” Helen suggested, and it sounded like a good idea to Maggie.
“I’d love it, if you can get away.” That was the problem. Her married friends never could. But the trip on her own had gone well and had proved to her that she could do it and even enjoy it. She wanted to go on another trip in the new year. Maybe with her son, if he was willing.
* * *
—
She showered and changed after that, and she was satisfied when she looked in the mirror. She had found a little evening purse too, and she put on the heels she had bought at Harrods.
She was ready when Paul arrived at the hotel. He called her room and she came downstairs to meet him. He took her to Harry’s Bar, a club he belonged to, famous for its fine Italian cuisine. She loved the food and the jet-set atmosphere. All the men were extremely well dressed, in beautifully tailored suits, and the women were wearing designer cocktail dresses, many of them with a lot of glitter. It was a chic crowd, and Maggie hoped that the dress she’d bought was nice enough. Paul smiled when he saw her.
“I love the dress!” he complimented her. “Did you just buy it?”
She nodded.
“Today. Just for you,” she added, and then was sorry she said it. She didn’t want him to think she was interested or pursuing him. She wasn’t, but he was so good-looking and the setting was so romantic that she found herself flirting with him, and he appeared to be thoroughly enjoying it.
He took her to Annabel’s afterwards to go dancing, and by the end of the evening, it felt like a date to both of them. She was relieved when he told her with regret that he had a commitment the following night that he couldn’t get out of, but he wanted to see her again the next day. She thought they both needed to cool off, but two days later, he looked like they had been apart for years when he saw her and said he had missed her. He took her to his apartment for a drink before taking her out to dinner. He had a fabulous penthouse apartment in Knightsbridge that was the ultimate bachelor pad, with every kind of comfort, a remarkable sound system, and some magnificent art. He collected Old Masters. Maggie said she had never seen such a beautiful place, and she meant it.
“I don’t spend much time here,” he admitted, “but I enjoy it when I do.”
He had three bedrooms in all, with beautiful furniture and art throughout the apartment. He said a decorator had helped him. In addition, he had a wood-paneled library, an enormous living room, a home office, a state-of-the-art kitchen, a dining room, and a small but perfect movie theater. Maggie loved the apartment. Everything he owned was elegant, luxurious, in great taste, and expensive. For an instant the memory of the dilapidated shack he had lived in crossed her mind. He had come a long, long way from there, but he was still simple and unpretentious. She admired him for it.
“Whatever happened to the cute boy on the skateboard?”
“I just bought a motorized one that goes thirty-five miles an hour,” he said sheepishly.
“Let me guess,” she said cynically, “you don’t wear a helmet.”
“How did you know?” He laughed guiltily.
“I know you. You think a helmet would spoil all the fun. It would lower the risk factor.” She suddenly wished he wasn’t so crazy, and such a danger to himself. It made him unsuitable for any role in her life, even friendship. She didn’t need any more losses. One day Paul would miss the mark and lose the bet and something terrible would happen. It was inevitable. It made her sad thinking about it.
He took her home that night and asked her to lunch the next day, but she had a museum tour set up, so he said he’d rearrange his dinner plans. She had no idea what they were doing, seeing each other every day. She had three days left in London, and she was flying back to Chicago on Sunday.
She finally asked him about it the following night.
“I don’t think it’s smart for us to see each other every day. Do you?”
He looked disappointed.
“Am I