face, she obviously didn’t.
‘Come through to the kitchen,’ she said quickly, suddenly wishing that she’d worn something different. Obviously the black dress didn’t suit her. ‘We’ve got time for a quick drink before David gets here. He was held up in clinic.’
Jack’s mouth tightened with disapproval. ‘So he’s going to be late, then.’
‘Well, only because a child with asthma was admitted at the last minute,’ Bryony said mildly, tugging open the fridge and reaching for a bottle of wine. ‘You know how it is.’
‘Do I?’
Instead of settling himself at her kitchen table as he usually did, he prowled round the room, his eyes constantly flickering back to her dress.
Trying to ignore his intense scrutiny, Bryony poured two glasses of wine and handed him one. ‘Here you are. Cheers.’
He took the wine and put it on the table, his eyes fixed on her legs.
Bryony felt her whole body warm with embarrassment. She hardly ever showed her legs. She usually wore trousers for work because they were more practical, and when she went to the pub with the rest of the mountain rescue team she wore trousers, too.
But tonight, for the first time in ages, she’d put on a pair of sheer, black stockings and she was beginning to wish she hadn’t.
‘You hate it, don’t you?’ she croaked, and his eyes lifted and welded to hers.
‘Hate what?’
She swallowed. ‘The way I look. My dress. Me. You’re staring and staring.’
Jack let out a breath. ‘That’s because I don’t think you should be going out with a man dressed like that,’ he said tightly. ‘It sends out all the wrong messages.’
She frowned at him, totally confused. ‘What messages?’
He tensed. ‘Well—that you’re available.’
‘Jack,’ she said patiently, ‘I am available. That is the message I want to send out.’
‘So you wear a skirt that’s up to your bottom?’ He glared at her and she stared back helplessly, totally confused by his attitude.
She’d met some of the girls that he’d dated and they were almost all blondes with skirts up round their bottoms.
‘Jack, my skirt is just above the knee,’ she pointed out, glancing down at herself to check that half her dress hadn’t fallen off without her knowledge. ‘It is nowhere near my bottom.’
‘Well, it’s definitely too low in the front,’ he said hoarsely, reaching across the kitchen table, yanking a flower out of a vase and snapping it halfway up the stem. ‘Try this.’
He walked up to her and slipped the flower down the neckline of her dress and stood back with a frown.
‘That’s a bit better.’
‘Jack—’
Before she could say anything, Lizzie came running into the room wearing a pink gauze fairy dress and wearing wings. ‘Jack, Jack!’ She flung herself into his arms and he picked her up and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
‘Hello, beautiful. Shouldn’t you be in bed?’
‘I was waiting for you.’ Lizzie curled her legs round his waist and waggled her finger at him. ‘Look. I’m wearing three rings. They’re sweets really, but aren’t they great?’
Jack dutifully studied her finger. ‘Really great. And if you get hungry in the night you can eat them.’
Lizzie beamed. ‘Can we play a game, Jack?’
‘Sure.’ Jack put her down gently and smiled indulgently. ‘Any game you like. Just name it.’
‘Weddings.’
Jack’s smile vanished. ‘Weddings?’
Lizzie nodded happily. ‘Yes, you know. You’re the boy and I’m the girl and we get married.’
Jack gave a shudder. ‘I don’t know the rules, sweetheart.’
Bryony covered her hand with her mouth to hide her smile. Jack was brilliant at playing with her daughter but ‘Weddings’ was the one game guaranteed to bring him out in a rash.
‘It’s easy,’ Lizzie assured him happily. ‘We hold hands and then we get married.’
Jack ran a hand over the back of his neck and looked at Bryony for help, but she simply smiled.
‘Weddings, Jack,’ she said softly, her eyes dancing as she looked at him. ‘That well-known game enjoyed by men and women the world over.’
His eyes shot daggers at her but he turned to Lizzie with a resigned sigh. ‘All right, peanut, tell me what I have to do.’
‘Well, first I have to go and dress up.’ Lizzie shot out of the room and Jack turned on Bryony.
‘She’s playing weddings?’
‘She’s a girl, Jack,’ Bryony said mildly. ‘Girls play weddings.’
‘I’m breaking out in a sweat here,’ he muttered dryly, and she grinned unsympathetically.
‘She’s seven years old. I think you can cope. Great practice for when you do the real thing.’
His gaze locked on hers, his blue eyes mocking. ‘You know I’m never doing the real thing.’
‘Well, don’t tell my daughter that. I don’t want her saddled with your prejudices about relationships.’
‘I should be teaching her about reality.’
Before Bryony could answer, Lizzie danced back into the room, this time wearing a full-length sparkly dress complete with glittering tiara.
Jack blinked. ‘Wow…’ He cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t know you had a tiara.’
‘I’ve got seven,’ Lizzie said proudly, and Bryony smiled cheerfully.
‘A girl can never have too many tiaras, can she, Lizzie?’
‘Come on, Jack.’ Lizzie grabbed his hand. ‘First we have to hold hands and walk across the carpet. Mummy can video us.’
Jack glanced at Bryony who could barely stand up she was laughing so much. ‘Great idea, Lizzie,’ she choked. ‘It would make great viewing at the MRT Christmas party. Jack finally getting married.’
Jack scowled, but his eyes were dancing. ‘Revenge is going to be sweet, Blondie,’ he warned softly, but he was laughing too and shaking his head as Lizzie dragged him into the sitting room and Bryony reached for the video camera.
To give him his due, Jack treated the whole occasion
