In Want of a Wife? by Cathy Williams

interest to say to him. Hadn’t he already laid down the ground rules? What else could there be to say on the subject?
    She had dashed from school to the shops and had bought herself an outfit so out of her comfort zone that she was almost scared to remove it from its tissue paper and put it on in the privacy of her bedroom.
    But put it on she did. The red-and-white-checked miniskirt hugged her and showed off legs that were slender and well shaped. The long-sleeved, body-hugging ribbed jumper, also in a startling shade of red, was modest yet managed to suggest curves she hadn’t really known she possessed. And she now owned a pair of very high ankle boots—which, she grudgingly admitted, looked passable.
    There was nothing she could do about her coat or her bag but the small,
faux
fur hat was stylish.
    She made sure to arrive late. Not so late that there was a risk that he may just become bored and leave, but late enough to ensure that he would be already there when she arrived.
    And he was, sitting in a corner of the discreet, very posh French restaurant. It was a prime seat for looking at who was entering the restaurant, but Louis had the
Financial Times
in front of him and was nursing a drink. Lizzy took a deep breath and steadied her fraying nerves. It would have been easy to give in to that fleeting moment of panic, but instead she gathered herself and walked confidently towards him. She could feel heads turning to look at her, and for the first time she understood why Maisie and Leigh—and even Rose,to some extent—were so obsessed with clothes. In her small skirt, tight top and high shoes, and with her hair tumbling down her back, she felt sexy.
    When she was standing in front of Louis and he finally looked up, she felt a surge of pleasure because, controlled as he was, he couldn’t conceal that flash of pure, sexual appreciation.
    ‘Sorry I’m a bit late,’ she said carelessly. ‘Traffic.’
    ‘As in you stopping it?’
    Lizzy blushed furiously and sat down.
    ‘Nice outfit,’ he drawled, once again composed.
    ‘Oh, it’s just some old thing I grabbed from the back of the wardrobe.’ The wine being poured in her glass was a blessed distraction, as was the over-sized menu when it arrived. Her nerves began to settle over the polite pleasantries about her health and the weather and the small amount of information she volunteered about the school Christmas play she was helping to produce.
    She was acutely aware of his legs under the table and the fact that they were only centimetres away from her own. As he leaned forward to signal the waiter to take their order, his knee actually brushed against hers and she had to restrain herself from giving a little startled yelp.
    ‘So …’ Louis sat back in his chair, tilting his body so that he could stretch out his long legs. ‘Now that we’ve politely done the pleasantries, are you going to tell me why you’re here? Or did you just decide that you wanted me to see your sexy side?’
    Dark eyes roved lazily over her body, taking in the high breasts—fuller than he would have expected in someone so slender—her thin, graceful hands and her stubborn, strong, intelligent face—which wasn’t classically beautiful but was arresting, he was finally forced to acknowledge. She had the sort of face that he felt compelled to stare at, and that irritated and amused him at the same time.
    ‘If you want me to remark on it, then I’m more than happy to oblige. You’re sexy. I like the way that top fits you. You really do yourself a disservice by dressing like a guy. And you should never tie your hair back, it looks good like that. Is it as soft as it looks?’ He leaned forward and twirled some strands around his fingers; for one heart-stopping moment everything inside her was thrown into frantic disarray. God, was she
attracted
to this man? Surely not? Yet her body was suddenly hot and heavy and she could feel her chest lift with every breath, her blood pounding