The Architect Read Online Free PDF Page A

him through the business suits, flower displays, and high-backed leather chairs.
    Not wanting to look out of place, I head to the woman behind reception. Just as my lips form to ask her which way the dining area is, a hand rests on my shoulder. In a second I’ve turned my head, inspected the hand, and I’m now being hypnotised by blue eyes. It’s him.
    He gives a sexy half-smile and says, “Good evening.” He stands there all tall and self-assured in his charcoal suit, white shirt and grey tie, waiting for my reply.
    â€œGood evening.”
    I feel his gaze move over me, up and down, like a rolling pin on a piece of dough that’s now had the air knocked out of it.
    â€œYou look stunning,” he states, before gesturing with his hand. “Shall we?”
    In answer, I take his arm and we head for the restaurant.

Chapter Five
    The waiter introduces himself as Philip, and shows us to our pre-booked table in the corner by an impressive arched window, and pulls out a chair for me. I take my seat and Heath sits opposite me after removing his jacket, smoothing down his trousers and giving me an eyeful of his crotch.
    â€œCan I get you a drink?” Philip asks as he hands us a menu each. Heath waits for me to reply. Not having been somewhere so posh before I browse the drinks list, more than half of which I can’t pronounce, then look at Heath.
    He must have spotted the uncertainty in my eyes as he asks, “Would you like time to look at the menu first? To see what might go best with what you choose to eat?”
    I nod, feeling embarrassed as the waiter agrees and leaves us.
    â€œYou don’t know what half of it says, do you?” His face looks kind, almost charmed at the thought of me not knowing.
    â€œI haven’t a clue.”
    He frowns as he skims the beverages. “Neither do I, really. I just say it in a French accent and hope for the best.”
    â€œYou’re such a liar.” I giggle. “I bet you know exactly what they mean, and how to say them.”
    His eyes meet mine from over his menu and he laughs. “Maybe.”
    I smile from ear to ear and look down at the menu to begin my hunt for some food I can say the name of. Also, to hide my eyes before they betray me and give away just how much I like this guy. Scanning for dishes, I am distracted as a couple walk past our table and are seated to the right of us. As I observe them, Heath catches my eye.
    â€œHow’s your day been?”
    â€œWell,” I start, “apart from the unwanted information about my colleague’s sex last night, it’s been a pretty good day.”
    â€œUnwanted information about sex? What’s wrong with you, woman?”
    â€œTrust me.” I cringe. “You wouldn’t want to know.”
    â€œReally? It can’t be that bad.”
    My eyebrows lift. “Oh, it is.”
    â€œGo on, tell me.”
    I smile. “Okay. Well, the woman I work with, Liz, is about sixty, and she gets up to all sorts of things. Apparently last night her and her husband,” I lower my voice, “were making love while his friend was getting a blow job from her.” I pause and have a quick perimeter check before I finish with, “I think they call it a spitfire.”
    He laughs, loud and joyous.
    â€œWhat?” I ask.
    Still laughing, he finally composes himself and whispers, “It’s a spit roast, you beautiful woman.”
    â€œWell, you knew what I meant,” I utter, feeling like a complete idiot, and pretending to read the menu as I give myself a dressing-down in my head. He must think I’m stupid. I can’t read the menu, I can’t speak French, and I can’t tell a threesome from an aeroplane. Way to go on impressing him .
    My negative thoughts are interrupted.
    â€œOkay, so tell me in English what you’d like to drink, and I’ll order it for us in French.” He closes the leather book and folds his hands