Margaret's Sunday Snippet

Margaret shares the opening few paragraphs from her book Abby’s Bodyguard:

 

‘Abby Redman?’ enquired a deep, male voice.

 

Abby stopped walking and turned her head. She had just arrived at Orly airport from Heathrow and was heading towards the shuttle bus that would take her to her hotel. She had no idea who this man was. He was tall and broad shouldered with jet black hair and amazing grey eyes. But she didn’t know him from Adam and she certainly wasn’t expecting anyone to meet her.

 

‘And you are?’ she enquired, her fine brows dragging together, her voice sharp.

 

‘A friend of your brother.’

 

A smile accompanied his words revealing even white teeth. He was very good looking, well dressed in black linen trousers and a crisp white shirt, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a con man.

 

‘By coincidence I phoned him only this morning,’ he added with another one of his dazzling smiles. ‘And when he said that his sister was spending a few days in Paris I immediately thought that you might like some company.’

 

‘Oh, you did, did you?’ Abby straightened her back and squared her shoulders, her eyes shooting sparks of anger and distrust. ‘And my brother would be?’ She still didn’t truly believe that this man was a friend of his.

 

‘Why Martin, of course. Martin Redman,’ he said with more than a hint of amusement in his voice.

 

‘And your name is?’

 

‘Temple Townsend – at your service.’

 

He held out his hand but Abby ignored it. ‘Martin didn’t say anything about someone meeting me.’ She paused and glared at him. ‘How did you know who I was?’

 

The smile widened. ‘He described you perfectly. Tall, slender, long dark hair. Outstandingly good-looking.’

 

‘There must be thousands of women who match that description,’ she challenged, convinced her brother had not said any of that. He had never paid her a compliment in his life.

 

‘So call him if you don’t believe me.’ His eyes continued to twinkle. ‘Don’t worry, I mean you no harm. But who in their right mind would want to wander around a magnificent city like Paris on their own?’

 

‘I don’t need an escort.’ Abby kept her chin high and her eyes icy. ‘I am here on business.’

 

‘But also a few days holiday – according to your brother.’

 

 ‘Martin has a lot to answer for,’ she hissed as she speed-dialled his number, and was not impressed when he told her that, yes, Temple was an old friend of his.

 

‘When he offered to meet up with you and show you the sights I thought it a good idea since you’ve never been to Paris before.’

 

‘I am not a child, Martin!’ She tried to keep her voice down but found it impossible. ‘I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.’

 

‘Temple’s a good man,’ he said, ignoring her outburst. ‘You should get on well with him.’

 

‘Get on well?’ Her voice rose even higher. ‘How much time am I supposed to spend with him? He’s a total stranger. You’re unbelievable.’

 

Abby cut the call short and turned to face Temple who was once again grinning.

 

‘So now that you know I’m perfectly trustworthy,’ he said, ‘let’s go. I have a car waiting.’ And he picked up her suitcase.