Читать книгу His Christmas Bride - HELEN BROOKS, Helen Brooks - Страница 5

ANNOYINGLY, once Blossom was lying under the tastefully scented, crisp linen sheets in the generous double bed in Melissa’s guest room, sleep became an impossibility. She found herself embroiled in a minute-by-minute post-mortem of the whole day, right from when Greg had first called her.

The crazy dash to the house, Greg’s poor little wan face, the frantic pace that had ensued with the children, not to mention the mistakes she’d made in dealing with Harry—and overall the awful knowledge that her sister was in terrible pain and she couldn’t help her. That had been excruciating.

Finally, when she couldn’t keep him at bay a moment longer, she allowed Zak Hamilton to walk through the door of her mind. This resulted in a distinctly harrowing, squirmingly hot and embarrassing twenty minutes when she replayed every word he had said and she had said, every gesture, every look. She did this several times. More than several. It got worse, not better.

When she couldn’t stand it a moment longer, Blossom slid out of bed and walked into the en suite, running herself a hot bath and adding a liberal amount of bath oil which magically promised to soothe and calm in equal measures. Stripping off the practical ‘I’m dealing with children’ pyjamas she had bought especially for her last babysitting endeavour, she surveyed herself in the full-length mirror to one side of the deep cast-iron bath before climbing into the perfumed water.

Only someone as effortlessly slim as Melissa could think having a mirror you couldn’t avoid when you were naked was a good idea, she reflected ruefully as she inched her bottom slowly into water which seemed to be a good few degrees hotter than she had thought. Not that she was a two-ton Tessie by any means. She just wasn’t naturally willowy like her sister.

She was now resting on the bottom of the bath, and breathed out thankfully. It had been obvious from an early age she took totally after their mother, whereas Melissa had inherited their father’s to-die-for genes. Yet it had been apparent to anyone within a five-mile radius of their parents that their father had worshipped the ground his sweet but homely wife walked on.

Blossom’s face took on a tender quality. She was so glad her parents had lived long enough to see Harry and Simone before they had been killed in a multiple car-crash three months after the twins had been born. They’d been so thrilled Melissa had achieved her heart’s desire. She and Melissa had had the best of childhoods, and their parents had continued to be utterly supportive even after she and her sister had left home—Melissa to married life, and Blossom to follow her career in London. She had always dreamed she’d find a relationship similar to the one her parents had had one day, a love which would lead to marriage, perhaps even children, whilst her career was put on hold for a short time.

And then, a few months after her parents had died, Dean had come along just when she’d been beginning to doubt there would ever be a Mr Right among all the Mr Wrongs she’d dated in the past. She hadn’t known then that, if all the Mr Wrongs in the world had been gathered up into one bundle, they wouldn’t be as wrong as Dean had been.

Blossom tried to close her mind against the memories now pouring in, but it was too late; she had opened Pandora’s box.

They had met at a fashion shoot; he had been one of the male models, and she had been bowled over by his dark Latin looks and smouldering charm. As he had intended she should be.

They had married two months to the day they had met, and already her photographs had begun to open doors for him. She had established good contacts over the years, and she had used every last one of them for Dean. He was her husband, her love; there was nothing she wouldn’t have done for him.

She had been so looking forward to their first Christmas together. Blossom clenched her teeth as the pictures in her mind rolled on with relentless accuracy. On the day before Christmas Eve she had come home to the flat—her flat; Dean had been sharing a grotty bedsit with a friend called Julian when they had met. She found all his clothes and belongings gone and a note waiting for her, propped inappropriately—or perhaps completely appropriately, she thought bitterly—against their wedding photograph. A small, neatly folded piece of paper.

He was holidaying in the Caribbean, Dean had written. He would not be returning to the flat when he came back to England. Their marriage had been a terrible mistake. It was better they faced it now than later. This was all for the best, and he hoped she understood. They had been married for seven months.

It had got worse. Oh, how it had got worse.

When she had gone to the bank after Christmas it was to discover Dean had withdrawn every last penny from their joint savings account, which had housed her half of the inheritance from her parents’ estate. A tidy nest-egg. All gone.

A week later a concerned work colleague had reported he had heard whispers Dean had taken someone with him to the Caribbean. Subsequent enquiries had revealed the woman had in fact been living with him in the bedsit when Blossom had met him—‘Julian’ was ‘Juliette’, and the two had never stopped seeing each other.

It had been a bitter pill to swallow, but Blossom had had to accept Dean had married her purely for the size of her bank account, and the influential circles within the modelling and TV fraternity she could introduce him to. His career—due mainly to her efforts on his behalf, along with the cash she had lavished on him for anything he had needed—had taken off far better than even he could have hoped for. He’d begun to fly high, and he and his Juliette must have been congratulating themselves at Blossom’s gullibility as they had basked in the warm Caribbean sun, laughing at her as they’d sipped their cocktails.

She had been ill for some time after that.

Blossom moved restlessly in the warm water, drawing a mental veil over the emotional devastation she had suffered. But what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. She nodded to the thought which had been voiced by Greg, of all people. He had been right. When she had surfaced from the blanket of grief and despair, she found she’d become curiously autonomous, and she welcomed it. She never, ever wanted to put her trust on the line again. Her heart was her own, and she intended it would continue to remain so.

She understood work. Work was safe, secure, sure, even taking into account the inevitable backstabbing and diva-like skirmishes which were part and parcel of the fashion world. That world could be irritating, false and cruel; it could make her angry or plain disgusted on occasion. But the ups more than made up for the downs and, more importantly, even the worse aspects didn’t touch the inner core of her. Didn’t make her feel as though life wasn’t worth living, that she was the ugliest, most unattractive, unworthy female since the beginning of creation. A man had done that, and she never intended to give another male the same opportunity. Once bitten, definitely twice shy.

Her mouth tightening, she stood up, reaching for the fluffy bath sheet and wrapping it round her. Why was she thinking about Dean tonight, reliving it all? She had thought that was behind her. It wasn’t as though she cared about him any more.

Zak Hamilton. The name popped up as an answer all by itself. Blossom frowned. Over her dead body. She wouldn’t give a man like Zak the tiniest chance of entering her life. But—the frown deepened—he had unsettled her. Rattled her. She didn’t know why, but he had. And it wasn’t his looks or wealth; she came into contact with plenty of drop-dead-gorgeous men in her line of work, and more than a few were well-heeled. Nothing like that intimidated or impressed her any more.

So—what was it about Zak she didn’t like? His confidence, which definitely bordered on arrogance? The fact that he was probably one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen, and certainly possessed a male charisma that was dynamite? The way he’d looked at her, the amusement in his eyes, along with the fact he had made her feel like an insect under a microscope? A bumbling, somewhat ineffectual insect at that. His manner, which had spoken of unlimited wealth and the knowledge people would jump as high as he ordered them to?

Dropping the sheet, she pulled on the pyjamas again and then rubbed the bottom of her shoulder-length hair with the handtowel. It had got slightly wet as she had lain in the bath.

She was probably being monumentally unfair, because she really knew nothing at all about Zak Hamilton, but she didn’t care. She didn’t like him. The brown-haired reflection in the mirror stared back at her, and as though it contradicted her she said firmly, ‘I don’t. Not one iota.’

Padding into the bedroom, she climbed into bed and was asleep within a minute or two.

The next days were hectic, but by the time Melissa came home Blossom felt she had got a handle on running a home and caring for four energetic and high-spirited little ones. Admittedly she hadn’t attempted to bake—she knew her limits—but she had learnt how to manage Harry, and that was an accolade for anyone. The house was spick and span, she was up to date with the washing as well as the ironing, she’d even found time to cut the lawns and weed the flowerbeds. The children had been fed well on Melissa’s cooking—courtesy of the well-stocked freezer—and had fully accepted Blossom after the somewhat disastrous first day.

‘Thank you so much for holding the fort, everything looks lovely,’ Melissa said gratefully once the initial hullabaloo caused by the children having their mother home again had died down. ‘I feel positively guilty, having spent hours in bed watching TV and reading books in that lovely room at the hospital.’ Courtesy of Greg’s handsome private-health package at work.

‘It was a pleasure.’ Well, parts of it had been. Things such as reading Rebecca and Ella their bedtime story, when the two little girls had been damp and sweet-smelling from their bath and curled up sleepily beside her. Wrestling the rake off Harry when he’d snuck into the garden shed while her back had been turned hadn’t been so hot. Her nephew had been intent on terrorising his sisters with it, and hadn’t taken kindly to his fun being spoilt.

‘Were they good?’ Melissa turned fond eyes on her little brood, who were playing with Greg in the garden while the two sisters had a welcome cup of coffee. Fresh ground, now Melissa was home. She wouldn’t dare to suggest anything else.

‘Angelic,’ Blossom lied stoutly. Some of the time.

‘I bet you can’t wait to get back to your flat and your own way of doing things,’ Melissa said. ‘Peace and quiet for hours on end if you want it.’

Blossom knew her sister didn’t mean a word of it. Melissa couldn’t think of a more wonderful existence than being with her children, and she expected everyone else to feel the same. Surprisingly—and she admitted this with a very real feeling of astonishment—Blossom knew she was really going to miss her nieces and nephew when she left. She loved them very much, of course, she always had, but over the last days she had begun to thoroughly enjoy their company and she hadn’t expected that. They were funny and cute, and naughty and exhausting, but overall so alive, so brimming with wonder and excitement about the most ordinary things. And it kind of rubbed off on her, she’d found.

‘Harry found a stone with a face in it this morning,’ she said vaguely, her eyes intent on the children. ‘He’s wrapped it up as a present for you later, so make a big thing of it when he gives it to you, won’t you?’

‘Of course,’ Melissa said softly, taking her twin’s hand and squeezing it tight as she added, ‘You’re a star, sis, but you don’t have to stay any longer if it’s making things difficult with your work.’

‘It isn’t.’ That was the truth, but even if work had been piling up to the ceiling she wouldn’t have left. She had been shocked at how pale and washed out Melissa was. The doctors had discovered she was severely anaemic on top of having her appendix out. The result of having two sets of twins within twenty months of each other probably. Whatever, she intended to stay at least another week or so, and make sure Melissa had plenty of rest and sleep. She’d try and fit in a talk about not having to be superwoman all the time too if there was a suitable opportunity. The children wouldn’t expire on the spot if they had to have a bought loaf now and again or a microwave ready-meal.

The next morning Blossom let Melissa and Greg sleep in—Greg had looked worse than her sister the day before—while she got the children up, gave them their breakfast and took them to nursery. On her way home she visited the local supermarket and bought a load of convenience foods without the merest shred of remorse. Melissa was going to have to lighten up a bit.

As she drew off the road on reaching the house, and into the pebbled front garden which had been given over solely to parking due to the fact that Greg needed a space the size of a football pitch to park successfully, Blossom saw the silver-grey car parked next to Greg’s people-carrier and groaned softly. Zak Hamilton. Damn it. And she was in her oldest jeans and a cotton jumper that had been washed so often and become so baggy it could pass for a dress. But she had taken the time to apply some mascara that morning and curl the ends of her hair, so that the bob just skimmed her shoulders, having known she was calling in at the supermarket. Overall it was an improvement on the last time they’d met. Not a big one, but something at least. Not that it bothered her what Zak Hamilton thought of her. Not in the least. Not for a second. The very idea!

Ignoring the little voice in the back of her mind that was saying nastily, ‘And pigs fly,’ she parked the car and began to lift the bags of shopping out. Along with the little voice she was determined to pay no heed to, her stomach was fluttering about as though it was host to a flock of butterflies. If butterflies came in flocks? She wasn’t sure about that.

‘Hi again.’ The deep, faintly accented voice was behind her.

She straightened up so quickly she heard her neck snap, but it was more the fact that she caught a carrier bag on something sharp in the boot, tearing it so that a can of baked beans dropped on her foot, that brought forth the exclamation of pain. Turning, she saw Zak Hamilton walking towards her.

‘Want some help with all that?’ he offered, waving a hand at the bags round her feet. ‘You look pretty loaded up.’

She would have liked to say no, but as she wasn’t an octopus it would have been rather silly. She forced a smile, wondering if her toe was broken. ‘Thank you,’ she said politely.

‘You’re very welcome.’

As he bent and picked up several of the bags, she caught a whiff of a deliciously sexy and definitely very expensive aftershave. The torn carrier-bag chose that moment to empty itself completely, and in the ensuing scramble for tins and packets of this and that Blossom got control of her breathing. Until she registered Zak crouching down, trousers pulled tight over muscled thighs as he stuffed some of the food into another bag. He was more sexy than any man had the right to be.

‘I thought Melissa cooked everything from scratch.’ He glanced up at her, a packet of cherry bakewells in his hand, and his eyes so piercingly blue their brightness made Blossom blink.

‘She does,’ Blossom said shortly, wishing he would stand up. When he obliged in the next instant she felt sufficiently in control again to add, ‘But I’m in charge for the next few days until she’s feeling a bit better.’

‘Ah.’ He nodded. ‘I wonder if they’ll get the kids back to the healthy option once they’ve tasted fish fingers and oven chips.’ He grinned at her, eyebrows raised. ‘What do you think?’

‘The odd meal like that does no harm at all.’ Even to herself she sounded schoolmarmish. ‘They’re quite nutritious.’

‘You know that and I know that, but mother love is a strange force,’ he said gravely.

He was laughing at her—again. The difference was this time she found she was having a job not to smile. ‘I wouldn’t know. I’m just the aunty.’ Picking up two bags of her own, she made for the house. There was safety in numbers.

Melissa and Greg were in the sitting room, a tray of coffee and a plate of shortbread fingers on the low oak coffee-table in front of them. Blossom paused at the open door long enough to say, ‘I’m just putting the shopping away,’ before continuing to the kitchen. A cosy foursome? Not on your life.

‘I think I got them out of bed.’

Zak had followed her, and now he dumped his bags on the breakfast bar as she glanced his way. ‘It’s half-past ten, don’t worry about it,’ she said briefly. ‘They’d slept enough.’

‘Greg made the coffee.’ It was faintly plaintive.

There was a message in there somehow, and Blossom raised her eyebrows enquiringly even as she wondered what it was about raven-haired men and pale blue shirts. Killer combination.

‘It’s as weak as dishwater.’ Zak’s eyes were laughing at her.

‘Oh dear.’ That’d teach him to call without warning. ‘I’ll put the shopping away and make some more; the other is probably cold by now, anyway.’ I’m putting shopping away—hint, hint.

He nodded. ‘Want some help?’

Even standing six feet away he was too close for comfort. Not that she thought he was going to try anything. He was far too sophisticated for anything so gauche and clumsy, she knew that. ‘No thanks. I won’t be long.’ Just go before I drop something else. Give me a few minutes to do some deep-breathing exercises.

He didn’t take the hint. Folding his arms, he leant back against the open door and watched her. It was disconcerting to say the least. Having grown up with someone as totally stunning as Melissa, she had never liked being stared at, always assuming she was being compared unfavourably to her twin. Maybe that was why she’d chosen a career behind the camera? Interesting thought, she told herself feverishly. Freud would probably have had the time of his life messing with her head. If he hadn’t been dead for eight decades, that was.

The shopping disposed of in record time—she’d never be able to find anything now—Blossom switched the kettle on and steeled herself to smile and glance at Zak as she said, ‘Shall we join the others? I’ll make the excuse about the coffee and bring the tray out.’

‘OK.’ He made no effort to move. ‘Look, I was thinking, with Melissa home after being away so long—’ he made five days sound like five lifetimes ‘—I’d imagine Greg and her would like some time to themselves in the evening once the kids are in bed. And I should think you could do with a change of scene. How about I take you for a meal somewhere tonight? Just as friends, of course. I understand how things are with you.’ He smiled lazily as though he didn’t care if she came or not.

Blossom stared at him, completely taken aback. ‘But we’re not friends,’ she pointed out gracelessly. ‘We don’t even know each other, at least not properly. You’re just Greg’s boss.’

The smile held, but the temperature dropped several degrees. ‘I’m not just anything,’ he said silkily. ‘Believe me.’

In spite of the smile Blossom knew she had hit him on the raw. ‘I didn’t mean—I wasn’t insinuating…’ She stopped. She had expressed herself incredibly badly. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that—’

‘You don’t want to go out with me. Yes, I know. But you must socialise with the male species now and again, surely?’

She was right. She had annoyed him. Dented his ego. She imagined Zak Hamilton hadn’t been turned down before, even on a friendship level. Well, why would he be?

‘Of course, if you feel Melissa’s still too ill…’

‘No, it’s not that.’ What was it with him? He had the hide of a rhinoceros. Surely he knew she didn’t want to go out—no, socialise, she corrected herself with grim humour—with him? But perhaps that was exactly why he was pushing it. Maybe he was one of those men who couldn’t resist a challenge. Not that she had intentionally set herself up as a challenge, but she’d bet her last dollar that was how he was viewing this. She didn’t buy the ‘doing Greg and Melissa a favour’ thing, men like Zak weren’t that philanthropic. Sharks in disguise.

‘So?’ Blue eyes held hers. ‘What, exactly?’

Oh, blow it, it was going to be easier all around to agree to have a meal with him this evening. She hated that she was going to shy away from further confrontation, but he was Greg’s boss, and she didn’t want to cause waves for her brother-in-law. And that was the only reason she was going to have a meal with him, she reaffirmed firmly to herself. ‘I was just thinking of Melissa and Greg,’ she lied carefully. ‘But I suppose I could see to their meal before you pick me up.’

Zak smiled. ‘I’m sure you could, Blossom.’

Blossom wasn’t sure about that smile. Was it nice or nasty? A ‘great you’re coming’ smile or a ‘knew you’d crumble’ one? Either way it was unnerving, to say the least.

‘Eight o’clock all right?’ he asked easily. ‘Enough time to feed and water all your charges?’

‘Half-past eight.’ She wasn’t going to let him think he had it all his own way. Although he had, of course. ‘It takes a while to put the children to bed after their meal and bath, and I shall need to see to Melissa and Greg’s meal too,’ she said primly. ‘Melissa is still far from well.’

Zak’s mouth twitched. ‘Fine,’ he said meekly. ‘Half-past eight it is. And I promise to not be a second early. OK?’

Wretched man.

The next half hour seemed much longer to Blossom as the four of them sat and chatted over fresh coffee and the shortbread fingers. Although, to be fair, Melissa and Greg didn’t touch the shortbread and Zak only had a couple. It was she who had eaten the rest, Blossom thought irritably when Zak stood up to go. It was a failing of hers that she always ate when she was nervous or upset. Comfort thing. And she was doubly nervous at present; Zak’s presence in itself was unnerving, but she didn’t want him to allude to their meal out together tonight until she’d had a chance to tell Melissa and Greg herself. They knew how she felt about men in general, and non-dating in particular. They’d wonder what on earth was going on if they found out before she could explain properly. If she could explain properly. Whatever properly was. She didn’t think she knew any more. Oh, darn it…

‘Thanks for the flowers,’ Melissa said to Zak as he made his goodbyes. There was a massive bouquet perched on a chair, waiting for Blossom to see to it. ‘And for the champagne.’ A bottle of the very best, by the look of it.

‘Thought you and Greg might like to celebrate your homecoming,’ Zak said lazily. He turned to Blossom. ‘You could put it on ice before I pick you up tonight.’

‘Tonight?’ Melissa honed in, looking hard at Blossom.

‘Zak’s taking me out for a meal tonight.’ Blossom’s eyes told her twin to leave well alone as she ushered Zak into the hall. A ‘you ignore this at your peril’ kind of look.

He paused at the front door, his wickedly long black lashes shading the expression in his eyes, so they were unclear as he said, ‘I don’t think your sister altogether approves of me.’

Considering Melissa and Greg’s livelihood was tied up with Zak, Blossom felt she couldn’t give an honest answer to that one. Privately she agreed with him. ‘Really?’ She hoped she looked innocently surprised. ‘Why is that?’ she asked carefully.

‘Just an impression.’

He didn’t sound as if he was bothered, but then why would he be? He was holding all the cards. ‘I’m sure that’s not the case,’ she said briskly, opening the door. ‘See you later, then.’

He pulled out a pair of expensive sunglasses and stepped into the bright July sunlight, walking to the car and sliding into the luxurious interior without glancing behind him. This time she watched him leave, raising her hand when he waved at her. She stood for some moments after the sound of the engine had faded away, her head whirling. Somehow she had promised to go out with Zak Hamilton tonight. It would have seemed an impossibility when she had woken up that morning, but it had happened. This was not good. This was so not good.

A movement behind her brought her head turning to Melissa, who was standing in the sitting-room doorway, a worried expression on her face. ‘Tell me to mind my own business if you want, but I don’t like the idea of you seeing Zak,’ her sister said, straight to the point as always. ‘He’s not for you, Blossom.’

Blossom shut the front door. ‘It’s not like you think.’

‘Blossom, the man’s a dyed-in-the-wool bachelor with a different woman for each day of the week. He makes no secret of it. In fact, according to the grapevine, he makes a point of spelling it out to any woman he sees so they don’t get the wrong idea. Of course, most of them fall for him hook, line and sinker nonetheless.’ Melissa’s tone was scathing.

‘Melissa, this really isn’t what you’re thinking.’

‘He could charm the birds out of the trees, I’ve seen him in action, but Greg says he can be as hard as iron in business when it’s necessary. And if he can be like that in business…’

‘Come and sit down and let me explain,’ Blossom said patiently, taking her sister’s arm and leading her to the sofa beside Greg. ‘You’ve got the wrong idea.’

‘Greg thinks I’ve got a down on Zak, but it’s not that, not really,’ Melissa began again before Blossom had a chance to say more. ‘It’s just that men like him eat ordinary people up and spit them out for breakfast. Greg’s useful to him at the moment, but I keep telling him that if that changed he’d be out on his ear and Zak wouldn’t give it a second thought.’

‘Melissa, I’m not saying I think you’re wrong—just the opposite, in fact.’ Blossom jumped in when her sister paused for breath. ‘But this meal tonight is not a date, not in the traditional sense. It’s purely platonic, I assure you.’

‘Oh, Blossom, don’t be so naïve.’

‘No, I mean it. Really. He actually said he wanted to give you and Greg an evening to yourselves and that he was taking me out purely as a friend. OK? He said that.’

‘And you believed it? Kiddo, it’s the oldest line in the book when a wolf sees a juicy little lamb.’

‘I’m not a juicy little anything.’ She didn’t think she’d ever been juicy, even before Dean. ‘And I’m hardly what you’d call his type anyway. I’m sure he goes for long-legged model types with interesting cheekbones and a clothing allowance to die for. Am I right, Greg?’ She glanced at her brother-in-law, but didn’t wait for him to reply before she went on, ‘Anyway, I told him I am not dating. I laid it absolutely on the line. My career’s all that matters, he knows that.’

‘Then how come you’re going out with him tonight?’ Melissa asked reasonably. ‘The two things don’t add up, sis.’

‘I told you, it’s purely platonic.’

Melissa gave one of her snorts. They were legendary within the family, and had always said far more than words could express.

‘It is, believe me.’ Blossom was getting exasperated.

‘I believe you might think so, but you’re wrong, Blossom. The man’s a walking sex machine; you only have to look at him to see that. He can cause the juices to flow without even trying.’

‘Melissa!’ Greg was shocked.

‘Oh, I don’t mean I’m attracted to him,’ Melissa said quickly. ‘I love you, you know that, but I have got eyes in my head, Greg, and your boss is…well…’

‘She means unattached women would find him drop-dead gorgeous,’ Blossom said drily when her sister ran out of words.

‘There, you see, you do fancy him,’ Melissa said triumphantly. ‘And you mustn’t, Blossom. This going out with him is a bad idea.’

‘You’ve been telling me for the last couple of years that I should date again,’ Blossom pointed out. In fact, her sister had waxed lyrical on the subject until they’d nearly fallen out about it and had had to agree to disagree. And not so long ago, either.

‘Date, yes, even get involved if the man in question is right for you, but Zak Hamilton…I can’t think of anyone worse. He’s too…too much of everything.’

They agreed on that at least, then. ‘Melissa, I have no intention of seeing Zak again after tonight,’ Blossom said very firmly. ‘I promise, OK? This was just the easy way out tonight. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, and I couldn’t be bothered to argue. It was simpler all round to say yes.’

Melissa stared unhappily at her twin. ‘I don’t like it.’

‘I mean it. I don’t like him, to be honest. He’s too…’ Blossom couldn’t find the words to describe Zak Hamilton. ‘Too much of everything, like you said,’ she finished weakly.

‘I just don’t want you hurt again, that’s all,’ Melissa said woefully. ‘You’re not a toughie like his other women.’

‘I’m not keen on the idea myself.’

‘And, you’re right, I do think you ought to start dating. There are lots of lovely men out there who would give their eye teeth to have someone like you,’ Melissa said earnestly. ‘Men like Greg, who are gorgeous but still real family-men and completely faithful to one woman. Good, honest, reliable men.’

Greg preened.

Blossom didn’t like to point out that, perfect though Greg was for her twin, he would drive her mad after ten minutes. Instead, she smiled, saying, ‘We’ve done this one to death before, sis. And you’re looking tired; I think you ought to go for a nap. You don’t want to overdo it now you’re back home.’

Greg was instantly all concern as Blossom had known he would be. Between them they managed to persuade Melissa to go and lie down, and Greg led her sister out of the room as though any sudden movement would cause her to break.

Blossom carried the coffee cups through to the kitchen, but instead of loading the dishwasher she stood gazing idly at the blue sky dotted with cotton-wool clouds. In truth the conversation with Melissa had unnerved her more than a little. It was stupid to go out with Zak Hamilton tonight, be it on a friendship basis or whatever else. A bit like sticking your head in the jaws of a crocodile and not expecting it to do what crocodiles did.

She made a sound of deep irritation in her throat. She wasn’t going to think about all this right now. She was going to fetch her nieces and nephew from nursery once she’d finished the chores here and then fix lunch for everyone. This afternoon she would take the children to the nearby water-park. She’d keep busy and active and not allow herself to dwell on the evening ahead for one moment. And when it came she’d play it by ear. She was getting this all out of proportion, for goodness’ sake. The man had asked her out for a meal, no strings attached, no expectations. And after tonight she’d probably never run into him again.

‘No probably about it.’ She watched a tiny blue-tit hanging from a nut holder. He was having the most marvelous time. ‘I’ll make sure of it.’

Why was she standing here talking to herself? Tut-tutting again, she loaded the dishwasher, cleaned the kitchen floor, did a couple of other chores, and then picked up the car keys from the coffee table and went to fetch the children.