Читать книгу Married Under The Mistletoe - Linda Goodnight - Страница 10

FEET propped on a chair, Daniel slouched in broody silence on the too-small red sofa. His belly growled, but the half-eaten fish and chips on the table had long ago grown cold and greasy. Papers, phone numbers, business cards and other evidence of a budding business venture lay strewn around him in the darkness. He should be satisfied. But he wasn’t.

Except for a few, brief conversations Stephanie Ellison had avoided being alone with him since his arrival. She was friendly enough when he went into the restaurant. She even smiled indulgently at his feeble jokes and brought him a drink. But long after the restaurant closed, she remained downstairs.

And he wanted to know why. This was her flat. She should be comfortable here even with him present. Worst of all, he didn’t enjoy feeling like an interloper. He’d had enough of that when he was a kid and Mum brought friends to their hotel.

So tonight he’d waited up for little Miss Manager.

When her key turned in the lock and she walked in, Daniel was ready for her.

Light flooded the room.

“Are you avoiding me?”

Stephanie looked up, manicured fingers on the light switch, clearly startled to find him still awake, sitting in the midnight darkness. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she took one glance at the flat and started her incessant tidying up.

“Leave it,” he growled, annoyed that once again she was trying to sidestep him.

She kept working. “My goodness, you’re in a mood tonight. What’s wrong?”

“You.” Actually, she wasn’t the only problem, but the one he wanted fixed first. The others could wait.

Her fidgety hands stilled on the fish and chips wrapper. “And just what have I done that’s so terrible?”

“You skip out of here at pre-dawn, seldom come up to your own flat throughout the day, and then sneak in long after I’ve gone to bed.”

“Managing a restaurant requires long hours.” She tossed his forgotten dinner into the bin and then turned on him, green eyes flashing. “And I do not sneak.”

“Have you always worked eighteen-hour days? Or only since taking me on as a flatmate?”

She gathered the papers from the floor and made a perfect stack on the table. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Just answer the question. Are you avoiding me?”

“Of course not. How ridiculous.”

“Good. Then stop clearing up my mess and come sit down.”

“I’ve worked all day and I’m very tired.”

“You are avoiding me. All I’m asking is a few minutes of your time. We are flatmates, after all. We live together, but one of us is not living here.” Daniel didn’t care that he sounded like a nagging wife. He wanted to know what her problem was.

She rolled her eyes. “Okay. Fine. I’ll sit.”

And she did. Like a gorgeous red-plumed bird, she perched on the edge of a chair opposite him ready to fly away at any moment. Her hands twisted restlessly in her lap. He had the strongest urge to reach over and take hold of them.

“I haven’t ax-murdered you in your sleep, have I?”

Her lips twitched. “Evidently not.”

At last. He was getting somewhere, though why he cared, he couldn’t say.

“So stop being so jumpy.” It irritated him.

“I am not—” But she didn’t bother to finish the denial. “What do you want to talk about? Is there a problem with the flat? A problem with the new business?”

“Do you ever relax? Maybe read a book or watch the telly?”

“When I have time.”

Which he doubted was ever.

He pushed. “How much of London have you seen since you’ve been here?”

“Not nearly as much as I’d like, but I love it. The museums, the history.”

“We’re steps away from some of the finest museums in the world. Which ones have you seen?”

“The Royal College of Art,” she shot back.

No surprise there. He knew from looking at the walls in the flat and in the restaurant that she fancied modern art, the kind he couldn’t begin to understand. There wasn’t a realistic picture anywhere in the place.

“Where else?”

She shrugged and went silent.

“That’s it? You’ve not done the palace or the Victoria and Albert Museum?” They were right around the corner.

“Not yet. But I will.”

“What about Hyde Park?”

“I jog there.”

“A picnic is better. What say we have one?”

Her hands stopped fidgeting. “A picnic?”

Was that longing he heard?

“Yep. Tomorrow afternoon. Hyde Park.”

She shook her head; waves of red swung around her shoulders. “I’m too busy.”

“So am I.” Suddenly, he wanted a picnic more than anything. “But real life happens in between the busyness, Stephanie.”

Her gaze slid up to his, slid away, then came back again. She wanted to. He was certain of it.

He gave her a half smile. It probably looked sinister but he hoped for charm. “Avoiding me again?”

“No!”

He lifted a doubting brow.

She sighed. “All right, then, a picnic. Tomorrow after the noon rush.”

Triumph, way out of proportion to the event, expanded in Daniel’s chest. At last. He was getting somewhere with the cool and aloof one. Though why it mattered, he had no idea.

“You’re going on a picnic?” Chef Karl, slim and neat in his burgundy chef’s coat, froze with one hand on the parmesan and the other on a giant pan of fresh veal.

“Yes, Karl, a picnic,” Stephanie said coolly, though her nerves twitched like a cat’s tail. “Not bungee jumping from the London Bridge.”

“But—” his wide brow, reddened by heat and concentration, puckered “—you never take time off.”

“She is today.” Daniel, purring like an oversized pussycat and resembling a pillaging pirate, burst through the metal swinging doors that led into the kitchen from the back of the restaurant.

Stephanie’s twitchy nerves went haywire. She had to grab on to the stainless-steel counter to, literally, get a grip.

My goodness, that man takes up a lot of space.

Karl, who hadn’t a subtle bone in his body, looked from Stephanie to Daniel. “Oh. I see.”

Exactly what he saw, Stephanie didn’t know and didn’t want to know. The staff had no right to poke into her personal life, although she now realized she and Daniel would become this afternoon’s gossip.

Great. She was already struggling with last night’s decision. What had she been thinking to agree to such a silly thing? Such a dangerous thing? But the truth was she wanted to go on a picnic. With her new roommate. And she did not want to obsess over the reasons.

When she’d come in last night to find Daniel sitting in the dark surrounded by his usual mess, she’d been tempted to run back down the stairs. He was right. She had been avoiding the flat, partly because of him. Partly because she dreaded the nightmares that had begun with his arrival.

She was exhausted both physically and mentally. When he’d goaded her, she’d been too tired to think. And now, here she was, both dreading and longing for a picnic with a pirate.

“Don’t worry about it, Karl.” She patted the chef’s arm. “I’ll prepare the lunch myself. This is a restaurant, you know. We’re bound to have something picnic-worthy around here. You go ahead with preparations for this evening.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Daniel asked, eyes dancing with a devilish gleam that said he didn’t give a rip about becoming the latest fodder for gossip.

“You could let me off the hook.” But she hoped he wouldn’t.

The gleam grew brighter. “Not a chance. Be ready in ten minutes. We’re walking.”

Then he shouldered his way out of the kitchen, slowing long enough to hold the door for one of the hostesses.

“Bossy man,” Stephanie muttered half to herself.

“The macho ones always are,” the blonde hostess said. “But they are so worth it.”

Stifling a groan, Stephanie settled on simple picnic fare, which she packed into a bread basket before going out to check the restaurant one more time.

Only a few stray shoppers sipped lattes or fragrant teas at this hour of the day. The dining room was quiet except for the efficient staff preparing for later when things really got hopping. Everything was well-organized. Stephanie’s sense of order was intact—except for the little matter of an afternoon with a most disorderly man.

She passed by the bar, scanning the stock, the glasses, the bartenders. A lone customer sat at the bar sipping one of their special hand-mixed drinks. As was her habit, she stopped to offer a smile and a welcome.

From the corner of her eye she spotted Daniel’s dark head. He poked around behind the bar and came out with a bottle of wine. He held it up, arching an eyebrow at her.

She pointed a finger in chastisement, but he only laughed and tapped a wide-strapped watch. “Two minutes. Back door.”

As soon as he was out of hearing distance, Sophie, one of the bartenders, leaned toward her. “You and Delicious Dan seem to be hitting it off nicely.”

Stephanie frosted her with a look. Grinning, Sophie slunk away to polish glasses.

Two minutes later, basket clenched in chilled fingers, Stephanie joined Daniel in the hallway. Her pulse, already racing, kicked up more when John Valentine walked in the door.

Her boss’s portly face lit up. “Daniel. Stephanie. What a delight!”

Beside her, Daniel stiffened. “John.”

They exchanged greetings, but Stephanie could feel the tension emanating from Daniel and the disappointment from her boss.

“So,” John said, somewhat too jauntily. “Are the two of you off somewhere, then?”

“Hyde Park and the Serpentine. Stephanie hasn’t been.” Daniel’s response was almost a challenge, as if he expected argument.

Guilt suffused Stephanie. She shouldn’t be running off to play with the boss’s son. “I hope you don’t mind, Mr Valentine.”

“Mind? Why should I? You hardly ever take an afternoon.”

Since his mild heart attack a few weeks back, Stephanie thought John looked tired. With all that was going on, she wondered how his health was holding up. Missing money was bad enough, but the family problems continued to mount. John’s wife was still angry about the arrival of the twins, though John longed to get to know them. Then there was his daughter, Louise. She’d had a whirlwind trip to Meridia and then, instead of working through her problems with John, had already jetted off again. This time to Australia to meet a woman who could be her biological sister. And none of that included the lifelong bitterness between him and his brother, Robert. How much more could the poor man handle?

“Are you sure, Mr Valentine?” she asked. “I can stay here if you prefer.” In fact, considering the way Daniel got under her skin, working would probably be wiser.

“I’m available if any problems arise in the dining room. Go on. Have a lovely time. I’m going to pop in and say hello to Dominic. He thinks he may have some news for me.”

With a fatherly pat to Daniel’s shoulder, he left them. Daniel stared at the closing door, expression wary and brooding.

“Are you all right?” Stephanie asked.

His jaw flexed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Then he took the basket from Stephanie’s hands, pushed the back door open, and led her out into the overcast day.

The walk to the park was much more pleasant than Stephanie had anticipated. After the encounter in the hallway, she’d expected dark silence. Instead Daniel provided a wickedly humorous and totally cynical commentary on élite London that had her laughing when they entered the beautiful park.

The laughter of children sailing toy boats along the Serpentine Lake wafted up to them from a hundred yards away. A cool breeze, in line with the glorious autumn day, played tag with the curls around Stephanie’s face. Daniel’s hair, too, rugged and unruly, was tossed by the wind. His was the kind of hair a woman wanted to touch, to smooth back from his high, intelligent brow, to run her fingers through.

The thoughts bothered her and she forced her attention to the wonders of the historic park, breathing in the scent of green grass and fall flowers. “This is a gorgeous park.”

“You can thank Henry VIII. He acquired it from the monks.”

“Acquired?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “In much the way he acquired everything.”

“Ah, bad Henry.”

“Not all bad. We’re here, aren’t we?”

Well, there was that.

They passed kite flyers, strolling mothers, moon-eyed lovers, and other picnickers before finding a clear shady area to spread their blanket.

Daniel did the honors, flapped the red and white cloth into the breeze and then collapsed on it as it settled to the grass.

“Here you go, m’lady,” he teased. And with one jean-jacketed arm, he exaggerated a flourish. “The finest seat in all of London.”

Legs carefully folded beneath her, Stephanie sat on the edge of the blanket as far from her companion as was polite. He puzzled her, did Daniel Stephens, vacillating from broody and cautious to light-hearted in a matter of minutes.

Stretched out upon his elbow like some big cat basking in the sun, he seemed happier in the outdoors, as though the inside of buildings couldn’t quite contain all there was of him. His mouth fascinating in motion, Daniel chatted tour-guide style about Rotten Row, famous duels, kings and queens, regaling her with stories of the famous old park while she emptied the contents of her picnic basket.

“I suppose we could have got food here,” he said motioning to the eating places sprinkled about.

“I wouldn’t have come for that. Only a picnic.”

“Woman, you crush my fragile ego. I thought you came for my charming company.”

She snorted. To her delight, he fell back, clutching his chest. “And now you laugh at my broken heart.”

Relaxed and enjoying herself more than she’d thought possible in the company of a barbarian, she thrust a sandwich toward him. “Here. Try this. Karl’s tarragon chicken salad is guaranteed to cure broken hearts as well as crushed egos.”

“Yes, the way to a man’s heart and all that.” He unwrapped the sandwich and took a man-sized bite. “Mmm. Not sheep’s blood or lizard’s eyes, but it will do.”

“You haven’t actually eaten that sort of thing?”

He arched a wicked brow. “When in Rome, do as the Romans. When in Africa…”

She lifted a bunch of fat grapes. “Suddenly, these don’t look too tasty.”

“Very similar to lizard’s eyes. Right down to the squish.”

She made a stop-sign with her palm. “Hush.”

Unrepentant but thankfully silent, he reached for the grapes. With an air of mischief he studied one closely, then met Stephanie’s gaze before popping it into his mouth.

Refusing to watch, Stephanie said, “If we have time later, I’d like to walk awhile.”

“We’ll make the time.” He tossed a grape into her lap. “A long walk after a picnic is good for the soul.”

She could certainly use that.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been on one.” She tossed the grape back to him. It thudded against his chest.

“You’ve never been on a walk?” Head back, Daniel threw a grape high into the air and caught it in his mouth.

Stephanie tried to look away and failed. “No, silly. A picnic.”

Another grape had winged upward. Daniel let it plop onto the blanket uncaught.

“Never? No childhood jaunts to the country? No egg sandwiches in the garden?”

“No. My family was far too stuffy for that. Little girls sat at the dinner table, learned to play hostess, and never, ever got dirty.”