Claiming His Wedding Night Read Free Page B

like a great idea.’
    Outside, it was another lovely sunny day, the air as cool and sparkling as champagne. At that time in the morning the square was still quiet and in the central gardens dew sparkled on the grass and the beds of early summer tulips.
    A dark blue limousine was drawn up by the kerb with a uniformed chauffeur waiting to open the door. As she crossed the pavement, he said a cheerful, ‘Good morning, miss.’
    Perdita returned his greeting and, trying not to feel like someone about to try and successfully negotiate a minefield, climbed in and fastened her seat belt.
    Traffic was very heavy and the journey seemed to be taking so long that she began to worry about being late. If she missed this appointment, the consequences would be disastrous.
    On tenterhooks, she breathed a cautious sigh of relief when they finally reached the airport environs and a few minutes later drew up in an area she didn’t immediately recognize.
    A smartly dressed sandy-haired young man was waiting for them.
    Before turning to lead the way into the terminal building, he greeted her with a smile and a courteous, ‘Good morning, Miss Boyd. My name’s Richard Dow and I work for Salingers.
    ‘I’m pleased you were able to make it in time,’ he went on as they crossed the VIP lounge. ‘The traffic seems to get worse.’
    To her surprise, Perdita found herself escorted throughheavy glass doors and out onto the tarmac apron where a private executive jet stood close by, its immaculate white and blue paintwork gleaming in the bright sunshine.
    As though sensing her surprise, Richard Dow said, ‘Didn’t Mr Calhoun’s secretary mention that Salingers executives usually have breakfast on the plane?’
    ‘No. No, she didn’t…Not that it matters,’ Perdita added hastily. ‘It’s just that I was expecting…’ The words tailed off as they reached the plane and she was ushered up the steps.
    A white-coated steward was waiting in the doorway to welcome her aboard. ‘Good morning, Miss Boyd. My name is Henry. If you’d like to follow me?’
    Short and nimble, his black slicked-back hair gleaming, he led the way through to a small but luxuriously furnished lounge where a table was set for breakfast with damask linen, crystal glasses, a bottle of Krug on ice and a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice.
    Pulling out a chair, he deftly settled her at the table. ‘If you would like a glass of champagne and orange juice while you’re waiting? Or a coffee, perhaps?’
    Her head still aching and intent on keeping a clear brain, Perdita said, ‘A cup of coffee would be nice, thank you, Henry.’
    Having assembled brown sugar and cream, the steward took a glass jug of coffee from a hotplate and filled her cup.
    Then, indicating a nearby bell push, ‘If you require anything further, Miss Boyd, just ring for me.’
    She thanked him and, silent-footed, he disappeared through a sliding door in the bulkhead.
    Relaxing a little now that she was sure the meeting was going ahead, she sipped her coffee and surveyed the quiet luxury that surrounded her.
    There were two soft leather armchairs, several bookcases, a comprehensive in-flight entertainment centre and a small leather-topped desk.
    Salingers did their top men proud, she thought, taking in the sumptuous carpeting and the two striking paintings by Joshua Lorens that she recognized as originals rather than prints.
    With this kind of money at their fingertips, they should have no trouble bailing out half a dozen struggling companies. So all she had to do was persuade them that buying into JB Electronics would be a good investment in the long run…
    Deep in thought about the coming meeting, it was a moment or two before she realized that the plane was moving, taxiing slowly across the apron.
    Perdita had half risen to ring for the steward before it occurred to her that the area was getting busy and the pilot was probably just moving up to accommodate another plane.
    Sinking back into her seat,