you want to look at the ideas on paper first?’ she said with a touch of desperation, and he shrugged and ushered her back inside, to her disappointment and relief. No, just relief…
‘We’ll look at them now while we eat. There’s always later,’ he added, and the relief gave way to a flutter of nervous anticipation.
‘Maybe,’ she agreed, and, picking up the long cylindrical case she carried her drawings in, she un-screwed the end and pulled the sketches out.
‘They’re only rough,’ she warned, but he just shrugged, helped her spread them out on the huge coffee-table and stood a little statue on one corner to hold it down.
She blinked. She recognised the artist, and that piece had probably cost more than she’d earned last year. Oh, dear God, why on earth had she let him talk her into this? There was no way he was interested in what she had to say. He was so far out of her league—
‘Right. Talk me through them. What’s this thing here?’
She dragged her eyes back to the plans, took a deep breath and launched her sales pitch.
‘That was amazing!’
He laughed softly at her as she pushed her plate away and sighed with contentment. ‘I said they did good food.’
‘You lied. It was perfection. Good doesn’t even begin to do it justice.’
‘Coffee?’
She nodded. ‘Please—if it’s not too much trouble?’
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