Cents and Sensibility

Stella Fain has a rule for men she likes: make them wait...  But the gorgeous Jay proves an exception to the rule when he bowls Stella off her Prada wedges at a press junket on the Côte d'Azur.  He might seem to have everything going for him, but Stella is about to realize that there's only thing worse than having a boyfriend with no money...  and that's having one with too much. 

Jetset lifestyles can be fabulous, but Stella's career as a journalist isn't something she wants to jeopardize for any man, no matter how filthy rich or gorgeous.  And then there's her father - a six-times-married prime slice of Alpha Male with a grudge against inherited wealth...  and Jay.  There's no denying money makes the world go round and diamonds are a girl's best friend, but they don't make the path to love any easier to tread.  With or without the Prada wedges.

Extract from Cents and Sensibility by Maggie Alderson

Chapter One

And luxury was something I knew plenty about. I was a 'senior feature writer' on the Daily Journal - which was considered London's most prestigious broadsheet newspaper - and luxury was my special area of expertise.

While my colleagues specialised in the Middle East, or crime, or parliament - for me it was crocodile-skin handbags, inlaid backgammon sets, bespoke shoes, and couture fragrances. All those little areas that add up to the modern ideal of the luxury lifestyle.

And the Cap Mimosa pretty much summed that lifestyle up, I thought, as I looked around the exquisitely elegant cream and gold room. Then, after checking the schedule in the press pack, I saw I had time to enjoy a bit more of it, before the first official event; a welcome dinner for all the journalists, with Tara and the rest of Jericho's global publicity machine. Although madame herself would not be joining us until the next day, I noted.

Eager to make the most of my free time, I headed straight down to the heavenly infinity pool to do some laps. There was only one other person in there, powering up and down, while I took it a little more gently, pausing each time I reached the end to gaze out over the Med, and the huge white boats bobbing in the hotel's private marina.

When I felt I'd swum enough, I sat at the top of the pool's elegant curving stone steps, with my feet in the water, just breathing in the garden-scented air and enjoying the feeling of sun on my skin.

The other swimmer stopped for a moment at the other end, to let the water out of his goggles, giving me a tantalising glimpse of broad, brown shoulders. The he resumed swimming and I stood up to leave the pool.

I was just dropping my Anya Hindmarch kaftan over my head, when the swimmer got back up to my end, and stopped to adjust his goggles again - clearly looking in my direction as he did so.

That put an extra swing in my step, as I headed off towards the steam room at the hotel spa, but before I got there I ran into Amy, who was en route to her idea of a rejuvenating Riviera afternoon: the outdoor bar.

With my healthy intentions immediately abandoned - the prospect of Amy's company was irresistible - we were soon installed on rattan sofas set among orange trees in pots, the wisteria in glorious full bloom along the loggia next to us, drinking champagne and roaring with laughter. And that was where she introduced me to Jay.

I noticed him immediately when he walked onto the terrace. He was startlingly tanned in a white linen shirt, which was flapping open, a towel around his waist, his black hair wet and elegantly slicked back.  He had very brown bare feet.

It was the guy from the pool, I realised. Class Eurotrash, I thought to myself, now I had a chance to look at him properly, and I saw his eyes - strikingly dark blue - rest on me for a moment as he walked over to the bar.

He didn't notice Amy immediately, as she had her back to him, and it wasn't until she shrieked with laughter - at a story I was telling her about my last, disastrous press trip to a Bavarina schloss for the launch of a solid silver pencil sharpener range - that he came over.

'Amy?' he said, standing behind her, but looking at me, making me suddenly aware of the wet T-shirt competition effect of my wet bikini through the kaftan's semi-sheer fabric.

She turned round and then jumped up to hug him, with her customary enthusiasm.

'Jay!' she squealed. 'Darling one, what a heavenly surprise, but of course you're here. This is your natural territory. Are you with anyone? Come and join us. This is my gorgeous friend Stella Montecourt-Hain. She works for the Journal. She's terribly clever.'

So he did join us and, fuelled by more champagne which he insisted on buying, the chemistry between us was instant and vivid. Amy chatted on in her infectious way, telling long involved stories that somehow never got boring, with Jay and I interjecting the odd one liner, our eyes meeting with increasing frequency.

I was just trying to stop mine sliding down to his chest and stomach, as he slowly did his shirt buttons up, with elegant fingers. I'd never seen anyone look so sexy putting their clothes on.

'So, Jay,' said Amy, having come to the end of a hilarious anecdote about a trip to the Arctic Circle, when she had been bounced out of a reindeer sleigh at high speed and no one had noticed for five minutes. 'We're here for a riveting jewellery launch with international megastar, Jericho. Are you here for any particular reason, or just because it's rather nice?'

'Well, I'm here for the launch too, actually,' he said in his strange accent, a weird mixture of Posh London Mockney and Cape Cod American. 'I ran into Jerry in Aspen and she said I should come hang out for the launch.'

Amy's eyebrows shot up.

'Jerry, is it?' she said, archly.

'That's just what people call her, Amy. Nothing more than that. She's kinda fun, so I thought I'd come and see what happens at these things.'

'Maybe you should launch a range of jewellery too, Jay.' said Amy and he pretended he was going to throw his drink over her.

'What do you do?' I asked innocently, having no idea that was the very worst question I could have asked a Money Bunny like him.

I knew I'd made a mistake, when I saw Amy's face freeze, but Jay kept his cool, in a way which would have amazed me when I knew him better.

'I'm an investment manager,' he said smoothly, shooting Amy a look which I didn't understand at the time. 'But mostly, I like to have a good time. Would you girls like to come out dancing with me tonight?'