Dominic looked up, several fries in hand. ‘My problem isn’t gaining weight, Mother, but losing it. I live a physically active life.’ He shoved the fries into his mouth.

She sniffed. ‘Your father favoured those same activities. His fourth wife is going to end up being his nursemaid.’

‘Who cares? Let the man be, Mother. You’ve been divorced for twenty-five years. How can it possibly matter what he does? And consider, he’s still paying you alimony. I wouldn’t bitch.’

‘Must you be vulgar?’

He softly sighed. ‘Sorry, Mother. Tell me what you bought today. Antiques, I assume. Any new jewellery?’

Shopping was Letitia Knight’s raison d’être. It was always a congenial topic – one of the few they had in common other than that of his sister and her children. Melanie’s husband Matt was off limits; he didn’t quite come up to his mother’s standards. So Dominic listened politely to a detailed account of his mother’s shopping expedition, added a comment here and there to show interest and fortunately heard her when she asked him about the China Club. He was able to reply to her question, which wasn’t always the case when his mother was holding forth on a shopping monologue.

As dessert was being served – crème brulée or chocolate mousse – Dominic pushed his chair back and came to his feet. ‘Let me check on Miss Hart. Perhaps I can bring the conference call to an end so you’ll have a chance to visit with her before we leave.’ He didn’t want any disparaging rumours spread by his mother; Katherine didn’t deserve the notoriety. ‘Zhu, coffee for us,’ he said to the young man standing at attention behind his chair. ‘And tell An, Miss Hart may want to eat as well. Excuse me, Mother. I’ll be right back.’

He took the stairs at a run, speedily traversed the upstairs corridor and quietly let himself into his bedroom. Pausing inside the door, he briefly debated the necessity of waking his houseguest. He had to, of course. Knowing his mother, if he didn’t squelch her suspicions he might as well put up a billboard proclaiming to the world that he was fucking Miss Hart. His mother was a notorious gossip.

Collecting Miss Hart’s dress and shoes from his dressing room, he gently kissed her awake. ‘Lunch, I’m afraid,’ he murmured.

She groaned.

‘We have to go down or she’ll come up.’

Kate instantly sat up, tried to open her eyes, didn’t succeed.

‘Just sit there, I’ll dress you,’ he said. Pulling away the blanket, he dragged in a breath of restraint at her sumptuous nudity. He was like a horny teenager around her. ‘Hold out your arms,’ he said gently.

Still half asleep, she automatically obeyed and he dressed her like one would a dozing child, sliding first one arm into her dress, then the other, tugging the soft fabric over her plump breasts, buttoning the amethyst buttons with dispatch. ‘Feet,’ he murmured, and she dutifully raised them. Slipping on her black leather heels, he lifted her from the bed, placed her on her feet, said, ‘Don’t move,’ and straightened the dress over her hips and legs. A quick glance to see that the buttons were all shut. ‘Wake up, Katherine,’ he said, deliberately brisk. ‘Do it and I’ll fuck you in an hour.’

He smiled as her eyes snapped open. But the lambent heat in the incandescent green of her eyes wiped the smile from his face, punched him in the gut. And he rapidly ran through possible options for avoiding lunch.

All hopeless, of course. They had to make an appearance.

‘I’ll make it under an hour. Did you hear me?’ Her eyes were almost shut again.

‘Yes, yes under an hour. Thank you.’

At least she was semi-conscious – he smiled – and polite. ‘You don’t have to answer any of my mother’s questions. If you don’t I will. Got it?’

She nodded, gave her head a shake and finally looked up to meet his gaze. ‘Save me. You promised.’

‘I will, don’t worry. Wait – I forgot your hair.’ Grabbing his hairbrush from the dresser, he smoothed out her tangles, pronounced her perfect, tossed the brush on the bed and took her hand. ‘Now, listen …’

As they moved out of the room, down the corridor and stairs, he filled her in on her fictional conference call, gave her a few names and a topic she could discuss if necessary. ‘You needn’t go into any detail. You can say it’s all confidential. I’ll say it’s confidential. I’ll cover for you if you get flustered.’

‘Why am I doing this?’

‘So my mother doesn’t make your presence here into a scandal. I don’t want your reputation compromised.’

She shot him an amused look. ‘Is this the nineteenth century?’

‘The twenty-first century’s just as bad, believe me. I’m just being cautious.’

‘Except for renting the entire top floor of the Ritz-Carlton.’

‘They were paid to protect my privacy.’

‘Are you sure?’ She thought of the bartender.

‘If they don’t, I’ll sue their ass off. Here we are. Smile. This won’t last long.’ He pushed the dining room door open and propelled her in with a hand at her back. ‘I dragged Miss Hart away from the phone, Mother. The Stone-hall Group had enough of her time today.’ He turned to Kate, his expression bland, his voice urbane. ‘Could I have some food brought up for you, Miss Hart? I’m afraid we’re on coffee and dessert.’