Читать книгу A Rich Man's Touch - Anne Mather, Anne Mather - Страница 9

AN ENORMOUS bouquet of flowers was delivered to the café the following morning. It contained roses and irises, freesias and carnations, and many other species Rachel couldn’t identify. Stephanie thought that some of the more exotic blooms were orchids, but Rachel was simply overwhelmed by the size and beauty of the bouquet.

There was a card attached but, as if he was aware that his gift would be contentious enough, Gabriel had merely signed his initials and left her to explain why he’d sent them.

‘You mean, you actually went out with him last night and you weren’t going to say anything?’ Stephanie asked accusingly, when her friend was obliged to explain that she had seen Gabriel Webb again.

‘It wasn’t that important,’ Rachel protested, cradling the bouquet defensively. ‘We had a drink together after I closed the café. That was all.’

‘All?’ Stephanie shook her head. ‘But surely you knew that I’d find out sooner or later? Your mother’s bound to mention it.’

‘Mum doesn’t know,’ admitted Rachel reluctantly. ‘I—I had him drop me at the end of Maple Avenue.’

Stephanie’s jaw dropped. ‘Why?’

‘Why do you think?’ Rachel cast her eyes around, looking for vases in which she could arrange the flowers. ‘To avoid another confrontation, of course.’ She paused. ‘Are you going to tell her?’

‘Not if you don’t want me to.’ Stephanie was indignant.

‘You told her how many times Gabriel had come into the café,’ Rachel reminded her, and the other woman snorted.

‘So it’s Gabriel now, is it? And as far as telling your mother about him coming here is concerned, I didn’t know it was a secret.’

‘It’s not.’ Rachel shook her head a little guiltily now, aware that she had used Gabriel’s name far too easily. Even though she insisted on calling him Mr Webb to his face, it was obvious that deep down she didn’t think of him that way and the knowledge was disturbing. She supposed she ought to tell her mother the truth about why she and Andrew had split up, and thus clear Gabriel’s name in that respect. But wasn’t that admitting that she thought there was something between them? She sighed as she looked at Stephanie. ‘I—I don’t know what to do about it; why he keeps coming here.’

Stephanie gave her a disbelieving look. ‘Why do you think?’

‘I don’t know what to think.’

‘Oh, come on, Rachel, you’re not that naïve.’ Her friend was impatient now. ‘He’s obviously attracted to you. Don’t look at me like that. What other reason could there be?’

Rachel turned away, unwilling to pursue that any further, and, glancing up at the shelves, she said tersely, ‘Um—where did we put those vases we used at Christmas?’

‘Don’t ask me.’ Stephanie was equally terse in her response. ‘Why don’t you send the flowers to a hospital instead? That way you’ll not have to worry about your mother asking where they came from.’

‘Oh, God!’ Rachel groaned. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ She looked regretfully down at the flowers in her arms. ‘Do you think I should?’

‘I think you should do what you want to do,’ declared Stephanie, her tone gentling. ‘Rach, there’s no law that says you shouldn’t go out with Gabriel Webb if you want to. He’s free and so are you. Okay, so he’s probably old enough to be your father. So what? It’s nothing to stress about.’

‘He’s seventeen years older than I am,’ said Rachel quietly, and Stephanie arched a speculative brow.

‘So you got around to ages, did you? Not such a casual conversation, after all.’

‘Stop it.’ Rachel sighed. ‘Oh, Steph, do you think he feels—well, sorry for me?’

‘Sorry for you?’ Stephanie blinked. ‘Why should he feel sorry for you?’

‘I don’t know.’ Rachel shifted a little awkwardly. ‘I suppose because he’s used to dealing with much more glamorous women than me.’

‘Stop fishing.’ Stephanie laughed. ‘You know as well as I do that you’re just as good-looking now as you were when you married Larry.’

‘Which isn’t saying much.’

‘It’s saying a lot.’ Stephanie was adamant. ‘You’re an attractive woman, Rach. Blonde hair—’

‘Light brown hair.’

‘—green eyes—’

‘Hazel.’

‘—and slim.’ Stephanie patted her own generous hips with a resigned hand. ‘Mike calls these my love-handles, but I bet he wishes I looked more like you.’

‘That’s not true.’ Rachel pulled a face. ‘Mike thinks the world of you and you know it.’ She pulled a crystal container down from the top shelf and put the flowers on the counter. ‘Anyway, when are you going to let him make an honest woman of you? It must be six months since you told me he’d asked you to marry him.’

‘We’re okay as we are,’ replied Stephanie firmly, helping her to sort the blooms. ‘I like our arrangement. We live together, we share the house, and I don’t have to worry about his mother breathing down my neck, grumbling because I’m not pregnant like Tom’s wife, Lesley.’ She picked up a rich red carnation and sniffed its delicate fragrance. ‘Mmm, these are gorgeous, Rach. And don’t think I don’t know you’re trying to change the subject. I’ll shut up—I will—so long as you stop kidding yourself. Gabe Webb didn’t buy all these flowers for you to decorate the café with them. I’m telling you, it’s you he’s interested in. Just don’t let him hurt you, right? I haven’t forgotten that if it wasn’t for him you and Andrew might still be together.’