Читать книгу Here Comes the Bridesmaid - Avril Tremayne - Страница 9

TWO

TO: Caleb Quartermaine

FROM: Leo Quartermaine

SUBJECT: Seriously?

Caleb, mate

What’s the deal? Where’s your invitation list? Are we really talking 150 guests? I thought it was an intimate dinner.

Sunshine is descending on me tomorrow to kick off the invitation process, so it would be nice to know who’s got what expectations. So I don’t end up looking like a completely clueless moron.

LQ

TO: Jonathan Jones

FROM: Sunshine Smart

SUBJECT: Wedding of the century

Hello, darling

Had dinner at Q Brasserie tonight—fabulous. We’re meeting again at one of Leo’s other places, Mainefare, tomorrow. Can’t wait!

I’ve worked out that Mainefare is a play on words. Mayfair as in London (it’s in a British-style pub) but with Maine as in Quartermaine and fare as in food. Leo is so clever!

Invitation samples attached: (1) ultra-modern, cream and charcoal; (2) dreamy romantic in mauve and violet; (3) Art Deco—blue and teal with yellow, brown, and grey accents.

PLEASE like the Art Deco one, which I know sounds ghastly, but open it and you’ll see!

All else is on track. Party of the year, I’m telling you!

Sunny xxx

PS—and, no, in answer to your repeat question—I have not done it yet. You’re getting as bad as Mum and Dad.

Tap-tap-tap. Same sound effect, just on floorboards.

Leo saw her scan the room. Mainefare wasn’t as open as Q Brasserie and it was harder to spot people—so he stood, waved.

His eyes went automatically to Sunshine’s feet. Coral suede. Maybe four inches high—he figured the missing inches equalled casual for her. Oddly, no polish on her toenails; now that he thought of it, he hadn’t seen colour on her toenails at their previous two meetings. Fingernails either.

Hello, Mr Estee Lauder—since when do you start noticing nail polish?

He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. But she just looked like the kind of girl who wouldn’t be seen dead with unpainted nails.

Then again, she didn’t look like the kind of girl who would eat like Henry VIII either.

Sunshine gave him her usual beaming smile as she reached him. She was wearing a pair of skintight pants in dark green, with a 1960s-style tunic. The tunic was cream, with a psychedelic red and black swirl on the front that should have looked like crap but didn’t. She had on the same sun/moon necklace, but no other jewellery. And that was kind of strange too, wasn’t it? Where was the bling?

She kissed him on the cheek, same as yesterday, before he could step out of reach, and sat as though exhausted, thumping an oversized tote—rust-coloured canvas—on the floor beside her chair.

‘Whew,’ she said. ‘I’ve got lots of samples with me, so that bag is heavy.’

Leo couldn’t work out how she could wear colours that didn’t match—her shoes, her outfits, her bags always seemed to be different shades and tones—and yet everything looked I’m-not-even-trying perfect. He’d been out with models and fashion PR types who didn’t make it look that easy.

‘Did you sort out the guest list with Caleb?’ she asked, and had the nerve to twinkle at him.

‘Yes,’ Leo said unenthusiastically.

‘So! A hundred and fifty, right?’

Gritted teeth. ‘Yes, a hundred and fifty. But you can still forget every one of the venues you listed as options.’ He sounded grumpy, and that made him grumpier—because there was really nothing to be grumpy about. It wasn’t his damned wedding. But it was just...galling!

Sunshine observed him, head tilted to one side in her curious bird guise. ‘Does that mean you have somewhere fantastic in mind to fit one hundred and fifty people? Somewhere that will be available with only two months’ notice?’

‘As a matter of fact I do,’ Leo said. ‘I have a new place opening next month. But it’s not in Sydney. It’s an hour and a half’s drive south. Actually, it’s called South.’

He was a bit ashamed of himself for sounding so smug about it—what was he? Fifteen years old?—but his smugness went sailing right by Sunshine, who simply clapped her hands, delighted.

Which made him feel like a complete churl.

Sunshine Smart was not good for his mental health.

‘Oh, I’ve read about it!’ she exclaimed. ‘Perched on the edge of the escarpment, sweeping views of the ocean. Right?’

‘Yep.’

Another enthusiastic hand-clap. ‘Perfectamundo. When can we go and see it?’

Perfectamundo? Good Lord! ‘Not necessary,’ he said repressively. ‘I’ve personally handpicked the staff for South, and they know what they’re doing. We can just give them instructions and leave them to it. But I can send you photos of the space.’

Sunshine was staring at him as though he’d taken leave of his senses. ‘Of course it’s necessary. Your staff may be excellent, but Jon is trusting me to make sure everything is perfect. I know exactly what he likes, you see, and I can’t let him down.’

Leo sighed inwardly.

‘We have to think about how the tables are going to be arranged,’ she went on. ‘The best place for speeches, where we’ll do welcoming cocktails—I mean, is there an outdoor area for that?’ Her hands came up, clasped her head at the temples as if she were about to have a meltdown. ‘A thousand things.’

Leo felt a throb at the base of his skull. ‘Let me think about it,’ he said, just to staunch the flow of words. He wasn’t really going to think about taking her to see the damned restaurant.

‘Thank you, Leo!’ She was back to twinkling, clearly nowhere near a meltdown.

Two months! Two months of this manipulative, mendacious wretch.

‘So!’ she said. ‘Let’s talk invitations. I have three designs to show you—and I won’t tell you which is my favourite because I don’t want to influence your opinion.’

‘You won’t.’

‘Well, I wonder if, subliminally, knowing what I like best might sway you.’ Little knowing smile. ‘Maybe to deliberately pick something that is not my favourite! And that would never do.’

He caught his half-laugh before it could surface. Laughing would only encourage her.

‘And since we haven’t discounted the email, I’ve got something to show you too,’ he put in smoothly, because he’d be damned if his version was going to be dead in the water without a demo at least. ‘It’s something we did for the Q Brasserie launch.’

Half an hour later Leo was amazed to find that he’d agreed to a printed Art Deco-style invitation in blue and teal, with yellow, brown, and grey accents.

But he’d had a win too! Sunshine was so impressed with his electronic idea she’d insisted they send something like it as a save-the-date notice, linking to some artsy teaser footage of South’s surroundings.

‘But we’ll keep the venue secret,’ she added conspiratorially, ‘because it will be fun to have everyone guessing, and they’ll be so excited to find out it’s South when the printed invitations arrive.’

He hoped—he really hoped—he hadn’t just been soothed.

Sunshine took on the responsibility for getting the invitations printed and addressed, with names handwritten by a calligrapher she’d dated in the past. She would show Leo—who actually didn’t give a damn—the final design before it went to print, along with handwriting samples. Leo was in charge of getting the save-the-date done for Sunshine’s approval—and she most certainly did give a damn.

He was on the verge of disappearing to the kitchen when Sunshine circled back to South and her need to see it.

‘It’s not going to happen,’ Leo said. ‘You can’t go on site without me. And the only time I have free is...is...daytime Monday.’ Ha! ‘Shop hours for you, right?’

Sunshine pulled out a clunky-looking diary.

He did a double-take. ‘You’re on Facebook but you use a paper diary?’

‘My mother made it for me so I have to—and, anyway, I like it,’ she said. ‘Hemp and handmade paper. Jon and Caleb have them too. Play your cards right and you’ll get one next year. And, yes! I can do Monday. Yay!’

Again with the yay. And the twinkle.

And that throb at the base of his skull.

Sunshine put her diary away. ‘My hours are super-flexible. I mostly work from home, and usually at night, when I seem to be more creative—not during the day, and never in the shop unless I’m doing a particular display. Because I have a superb manager who would not take kindly to my interfering.’

‘I like the sound of your manager.’

‘Oh, I can introduce— Ah, I see, sarcasm.’ She regarded him with a hint of amused exasperation. ‘You know, I’m not generally regarded as an interfering person.’

He couldn’t keep the snort in.

‘Sarcasm and a snort! Better not debate that, then. So! Shall I drive us down?’

‘I’m going to take my bike.’

Her face went blank. ‘Bike?’

‘As in motor,’ he clarified.

‘You have a car as well, though?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Because we could get so much done if we drove down the coast together.’

‘Except that I don’t have a car.’

‘But I have a car. You can come with me.’

‘Sunshine, I’d better put this out there right now: you are not going to control me. I don’t have a car. I have a bike. I am going to ride down the coast, because that is what I want to do. Why don’t you just ride down with me?’

Mental slap of his own head! Why the hell had he suggested that? Sunshine Smart plastered against his back for an hour and a half? No, thank you!

Although at least she wouldn’t be able to talk to him.

Still, she would annoy him just by being there. In her skintight pants...full breasts pressed into his back...breathing against the back of his neck...arms around him...hands sliding up under his leather jacket...

What? No. No! Why the hell would her hands need to be sliding up there?

‘Thanks, but, no,’ she said—and it took Leo a moment to realise she was talking about riding on the bike as opposed to sliding her hands under his jacket. Thanks, but, no. Sharp and cool—and not open for discussion, apparently.

And it...stung! Dammit.

‘Why not?’ he asked.

‘Because I don’t like motorbikes.’

Don’t like motorbikes! Well, good. Fine. Who cared if Sunshine Smart didn’t like motorbikes? Every other woman he dated couldn’t wait to hop on the back of his Ducati!

Not that he was dating Sunshine Smart. Argh. Horrible, horrible thought.

Just let it go. Let it go, Leo.

‘Why? Because you can’t wear ten-inch heels on one?’ That was letting it go, was it?

‘I don’t wear ten-inch heels anywhere—I’m not a stilt-walker. It’s not about shoes. Or clothes. Or even what those helmets do to your hair.’ She tossed said hair. ‘It’s just...’ She shrugged one shoulder, looking suddenly uncomfortable. ‘Just an antiquated little notion I have about staying alive.’

‘Fine,’ he snapped. ‘You drive, I’ll ride, and we’ll meet there.’

And then she sort of slumped...without actually slumping. He had an absurd desire to reach over and touch her damned hair, and tell her...what? Tell her what?

That he would drive down the coast with her? Hell, no! Not happening. And he was not touching her hair. He didn’t touch anyone’s hair. Ever.

Leo all but leapt to his feet. ‘I’d better get into the kitchen.’

‘Right now? But—’ Sunshine checked her watch. ‘Oh. That took longer than I thought.’

She gave her head a tiny shake. Shaking off the non-slumping slump, he guessed, because the perk zoomed back, full-strength.

‘I have other samples in my bag—you know, pictures of floral arrangements and cakes. And I was going to talk to you about shoes. I’m arranging some custom-made shoes for you for the big day.’

‘Flowers can’t be that urgent. I have a superb baker on staff, so don’t get carried away on the cake. And I don’t need shoes.’

‘The shoes are a gift. From me. I’m doing them for Caleb and Jon too. And I promise it will not be an identical shoe gig—nothing like those ancient wedding parties with six groomsmen all wearing pale blue tuxes with dark blue lapel trim!’ Dramatic shudder. ‘Oh, please say yes, Leo.’

Leo looked down at his feet, at his well-worn brown leather shoes. Scuffed, but as comfortable as wearing a tub of softened butter. And he had other shoes. Good shoes. Italian shoes. He didn’t need more. He didn’t want her goddamned shoes.

But her hypnotically beautiful mismatched eyes were wide and pleading as he looked back up, and he found himself saying instead, ‘I’ll think about it.’

She smiled. ‘Thank you. There’s a ton of stuff still to talk about, but I understand you’re on a tight leash tonight, so you get going. And before we meet on Monday I’ll do some legwork on the flowers front. And music... No, I won’t do any legwork on that, because I know you used to go out with that gorgeous singer Natalie Clarke, and she would be perfect. I hope—’ She stopped, bit her lip. ‘Oh, dear, enough about the music. I’m sensing a teensy bit of animosity—that little tic next to your mouth gives it away, you know. But we still have clothes to talk about. Yours and mine, since we’re the closest thing they’ll have to an official wedding party. We don’t want to look too matchy-matchy, but there’s so much we can do to look part of the overall theme.’

Leo stared. He was doing a lot of that. ‘You mean there’s a theme?’

‘I’m not talking about those horrifying Elvis or Medieval or Viking themes. Or Halloween—it’s been done! I’ve seen pictures—with pumpkins! I mean just a touch of complementary colour, a certain style...things like that.’

‘You’re scaring me.’

‘I promise you’ll love—’

‘Really scaring me. Later, okay? Much later.’

Sunshine wrinkled up her nose—and Leo had now twigged that this meant she was about to put a new argument, so he held up a ‘stop’ hand.

‘I’ll see you Monday, Sunshine. And in the meantime try and remember that the marriage will have already happened. This is just a celebratory dinner.’

‘But—’

‘Monday.’

She made a muted explosive sound, redolent of frustration. ‘All right! Monday! But I’m staying here for dinner—not running away like a good little girl.’ She tossed her hair again. Flick. Over her shoulder. ‘I have a date.’

Leo kind of liked that huffy hair-flick—it made him feel as if she were the one off kilter for a change.

‘Then I’ll send over a Campari for you while you wait.’ Calm. Reasonable. Charming, even.

‘Lovely, thank you,’ she responded. Calm, reasonable, charming.

‘I won’t be able to come out and speak to Gary tonight, though.’

‘That’s okay—Gary’s not coming.’

Frown. ‘But I thought you said...?’

‘Oh, I see.’ Little laugh. Annoying little laugh. ‘No, tonight I’m having dinner with Ben.’

‘Another investment banker?’

‘No. Ben’s an embalmer.’

Leo did the stare thing again. ‘You’re joking, right?’

‘No.’ Puzzled. Actually, seriously puzzled. ‘Why would that be a joke?’

‘An embalmer? How did you even get to meet an embalmer? Are you making shoes for corpses?’

‘Not that I wouldn’t make shoes for corpses, but no.’ Pause. He saw the tiny swallow. ‘It—it was a subject I needed to—to research. Two years ago. For my...sister.’

‘I didn’t know you had a sister.’ He thought back...something about her eyes? In the womb... Triplets...?

Twins!

Oh. Embalmer. Sister. Her twin sister was dead. And he was such a freaking idiot!

Because—oh, God. no—the face-morph. It was happening again. Emptiness. Ashy skin. Trembling lips. What the hell was that?

‘Sunshine...?’

No response.

‘Sunshine!’

Alarmed.

She shook her head and the look was gone. But her eyes were filling and she was blinking, blinking, blinking, trying to stop the tears falling.

Crap! He reached over to the next table, snagged a napkin, held it out to her with a gruff, ‘Here.’

She took the napkin but just stared at it. Another blink.

He watched, holding his breath... Just one tear, one drop, and he would have to...to... No, he couldn’t...could he? Hovering, hovering... His heart was starting to pound...

And then she took a long, slow breath and the tears receded.

Leo took his own long, slow breath, feeling as though disaster had just been averted, and slid into the chair beside her.

‘Sorry,’ Sunshine said. ‘My sister died two years ago. The anniversary is coming up so I’m feeling kind of...emotional about it. I should be over it by now, but every now and then...’ That tiny head-shake, then she looked at Leo and smiled. ‘Anyway, let’s get back to—’

‘What was her name? Your sister?’ Leo asked, because he was not getting back to anything quite that easily.

Sunshine paused, but only for a few seconds—and her smile didn’t waver at all. ‘Are you ready for this, Leo? It’s not for the fainthearted.’

Leo didn’t know if he was ready, not ready, or why he had to be ready.

In fact he didn’t know squat.

He didn’t know why he hadn’t let her change the subject as she’d clearly wanted to do. Why her unwavering smile was bothering him. Why he wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her until she let those jammed-up tears fall.

He didn’t know a damned thing—least of all why he should be interested in Sunshine Smart’s dead sister.

But he said, ‘Worse than Sunshine?’

‘Ouch! But, yes—at least Moonbeam thought so.’

‘Moonbeam?’ He winced. ‘Seriously? I mean...seriously?’

Little gurgle of laughter. ‘Yep.’

‘Good God. Moonbeam. And Sunshine.’

She was playing with the hem on the napkin he’d given her, picking at it with her fingernails.

‘So what happened?’ Leo asked.

She looked down at the napkin. Pick, pick. ‘Hippie parents.’

‘No, I mean what hap—?’

‘Oh, dear, I’ve snagged the hem,’ Sunshine said, and put the napkin on the table. ‘Sorry, Leo.’

‘I don’t care about the napkin, Sunshine.’

‘Actually, table napkins have an interesting history. Did you know that they started out as lumps of dough, rolled and kneaded at the table? Which led, in turn, to using sliced bread to wipe your hands.’

What the hell? ‘Er—no, I didn’t know that.’ Thrown. Completely thrown.

Extra-bright smile. ‘But you were asking about Moonbeam. Actually, it’s because of her that I’m sitting here with you. She and Jonathan dated as teenagers.’

He was staring again—couldn’t help it. ‘No way!’

‘Yes way! But Moon realised pretty quickly that she’d need to swap an X for a Y chromosome if their relationship was going to get to the next level, even though Jon adored her. So—long story short—she encouraged Jon to leap out of the closet, with me hooked in for moral support, and the three of us became super-close—like a ménage à trois minus the sex. And voilà—here I am, planning Jon’s wedding to your brother.’ Her brilliant smile slipped. ‘One of the reasons I miss Jon so much is because he’s a link to my sister.’

Jon dating a girl. Ménage à trois minus the sex. Bread as table napkins? Leo didn’t know what to say.

‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘I don’t have to explain that to you. I know you miss your brother too.’

‘It can’t compare.’

‘Yeah, I guess...I guess you can jump on a plane if you need to see Caleb.’

‘That’s more likely to happen in reverse.’

‘You mean him jumping on a plane? Oh, no, I see—him needing to see you.’ She looked him over. ‘I get that. You’re the dominant one, you’re the one doling out the goods, and you don’t need to see anyone.’

The perceptiveness startled him.

‘So no emotional combustions! It’s a good way to be,’ she went on. ‘In fact my approach to relationships is based on achieving a similar core of aloofness, of control. Of mastery over my emotions.’

He was a little awed. ‘Your approach to relationships?’

‘Yes. Separating sex from love, for example—you know, like that ménage à trois with me, Jon, and Moon. You have to agree that it makes life easier.’

‘Easier, maybe. Not better.’

‘Of course it’s easiest to leave the love out altogether. That’s what I do now.’

‘What? Why?’

She tapped her chest lightly, over her heart. ‘No room in here.’

‘You’re not that type of person.’

‘Well, I do have to work hard at it,’ she conceded.

‘What? Why?’ God, he was repeating himself!

‘Because my natural inclination is to care too much about people. I have to take precautions to guard against that.’

‘What? Why?’ Nope—he was not doing another repeat! ‘I mean, what are you scared of?’

‘Pain,’ she said simply. ‘Because it hurts. To care deeply. It hurts.’

Leo wanted to tell her the whole argument was ridiculous, but the words wouldn’t come. What did he know? He was living proof that sex was usually loveless, no matter how much you wished otherwise.

At least Sunshine could actually touch a person without having a panic attack, so she was way ahead of him. For sure Gary and Ben wouldn’t have let Sunshine have those mini-meltdowns and sat there like blockheads, handing her restaurant napkins. How was he supposed to find what Caleb had when he couldn’t put his arms around a tearful woman? Did he even deserve to, stunted as he was?

‘But we were talking about embalming,’ Sunshine said, and she was twinkling again. ‘Which is much more interesting. A very technical and responsible job. And it does make you think, doesn’t it?’

Leo, reeling from the various changes in conversation he’d been subjected to for the past few minutes—shoes, pumpkins, napkins, sex, love, embalming, napkins—could only repeat stupidly, ‘Think...?’

‘Well, cremation or burial? It’s something we all need to plan for. If you’re interested—as you should be, if you ride a motorbike—I’m sure Ben would be happy to—’

‘Er, no—that’s fine, thanks.’ Leo got to his feet with alacrity. ‘I’ll send over that drink.’

* * *

Halfway through the night, Leo poked his head out of the kitchen. Ostensibly to gauge how the place was humming along, but really—he was honest enough to admit it—to check out Sunshine’s date.

And Ben the embalmer was handsome enough to give Alexander Skarsgard a run for his money. Like a freaking Viking!

They’d ordered the roast leg of lamb—a sharing dish that came with crispy roast potatoes, crusty bread rolls and assorted side dishes and condiments. Enough food to feed the entire cast of The Hobbit, including the trolls.

Twice more Leo peered out at them. Both times Ben was laughing and Sunshine was about to shove a laden fork in her mouth. Leo was starting to think Sunshine could single-handedly have eating classified as a championship sport.

Since he thought dining with a woman who actually ate would make a nice change, he didn’t know why the sight of Sunshine chomping up a storm with Ben was so annoying.

But it was. Very, very annoying.

Another laugh floated through the restaurant and into his straining ears.

Right! He ripped off his apron. He was going to find out what the hell was so funny.

He washed his hands, changed into a clean chef’s jacket and headed out.

Sunshine looked up, startled. ‘Leo! This is a surprise.’

She quickly performed introductions as one of the waiting staff rushed to find a spare chair for Leo, who was examining the almost demolished lamb leg.

Leo raised his eyebrows. ‘Didn’t like it, huh?’ he said, settling into the quickly produced chair.

Sunshine groaned. ‘Not funny. I’ll have to start dieting tomorrow.’

‘That will be a one-day wonder,’ Ben said, and winked at Sunshine.

Winked! Who the hell winked at people?

Sunshine laughed. ‘Or you could kiss me instead, Ben, because—interestingly—kissing burns six and half calories per minute. As long as it’s passionate.’ She pursed her lips. ‘I guess passion supersizes the metabolic effect.’

Ben, in the process of sipping his wine, choked. ‘Where do you get all these facts?’

‘The internet.’

Ben grinned. ‘Better brush up on your arithmetic, Sunny, because if I kiss you for, say, fifteen minutes—and any longer is just asking for chapped lips—it’s going to net you a hundred calories max. Basically, we’ll burn off two thirds of a bread roll.’

‘Are you talking yourself out of a kiss?’ Sunshine asked.

She was doing the eyelash-bat thing, and Leo decided it made her look like a vacuous twit. He only just stopped himself from telling her so.

Ben smiled at Sunshine. A very intimate smile, by Leo’s reckoning. ‘You know I’m up for it,’ he said. ‘But we’re going to have to make it a marathon and buy a truckload of lip balm if you keep that up.’ He nodded at her fingers, which were hovering over the food.

Sunshine snatched up a small piece of crispy potato and popped it into her mouth. ‘It’s a vegetable,’ she said. ‘Doesn’t count.’

‘Oh, that’s a vegetable!’ Ben laughed. ‘And you’re a nut, Sunshine.’

Sunshine smiled serenely. ‘If that’s the analogy we’re going with, you’re a piece of meat.’

Ben gave her a faux mournful look. ‘Oh, I know I’m just a piece of meat to you. We all are.’

A phone trilled.

‘Mine,’ Ben said, reaching into his shirt pocket. He checked the caller ID. ‘Sorry, I have to take this.’

‘All?’ Leo asked as Ben left the table.

Sunshine laughed. ‘Just a “poor me” thing with my exes. They get a bit club-like.’

‘What? There’s like a legion of them?’

Another laugh. ‘Not quite.’

Leo leant forward, fixed her with a steady gaze. ‘Are you sleeping with both of them? Gary and Ben?’

She stopped laughing. ‘And you’re interested because...?’

‘Just wondering where everyone fits in relation to that guff about sex and love you were spouting earlier and the whole pieces of meat thing.’

‘It’s not guff.’

‘Total guff.’

She considered him for a moment. ‘Well—I’ve never been in love, but I have had sex. And I’ll bet you’ve had enough sex to write Fifty Shades of Leo—but no wife. No steady girlfriend, even, right? No...love...perhaps?’

He felt his jaw clamp. God, he’d love to show her fifty shades of Leo. She wouldn’t be looking at him in that curious bird way at the end. ‘That’s not the point,’ he ground out.

‘That’s exactly the point. What’s wrong, Leo? Not enough room in there?’ She leant over and tapped her fingers on his chest, right over his heart. Into his heart, it felt like. ‘I don’t think you should be lecturing me just because I have sex without love the same as you do.’

‘You’re supposed to want them both.’

She tossed her head. ‘Well, I don’t. I won’t. Ever. And glowering at me isn’t going to change that.’

‘I’m not glowering. I don’t glower.’

‘Oh, you so do. It’s kind of cute.’

‘I’m not cute.’

‘Sure you are—in that I’m-a-typical-male-hypocrite kind of way.’

‘I’m not a hypocrite either.’

‘Go and get yourself nicely monogamised and I’ll believe you.’

‘Monogamised isn’t a real word.’

That twitch at the side of her mouth.

Leo felt his temper surge. ‘And I am monogamous.’

‘Yeah—but one-after-the-other monogamy doesn’t count if there’s a hundred in the pipeline.’

He wanted to haul her out of her chair and... And what?

And nothing, that was what. Nothing.

‘Ben’s coming back so I’ll leave you to it,’ he said. ‘I’ve got some dessert coming out for you.’

She bit her bottom lip. ‘Oh, dear—I really will need to start a diet tomorrow.’

Leo got to his feet. ‘Just get Ben to kiss you twice.’

Sunshine grabbed his hand to keep him where he was.

His fingers curled around hers before he could stop them—and then his fingers stiffened. He pulled his hand free, flexed his fingers.

Sunshine’s eyes flickered from his hand to his face. There was doubt in her eyes. And concern. And a tenderness that enraged him. He didn’t need it. Didn’t need Sunshine-bloody-Smart messing with his head or his goddamned hand.

‘Why are you upset with me, Leo?’ she asked softly.

He was unbearably conscious of the scent of her. Jonquils. A woman who’d just stuffed herself silly with meat shouldn’t smell like flowers, so why did she?

‘I’m not upset with you,’ he said flatly. Liar. ‘I’ll email you a map for Monday.’

He strode back to the kitchen, furious with himself because he was upset with her.

But that was the ‘what’ of the equation. What he couldn’t work out was the ‘why’.

What? Why?

Oh, for God’s sake!