have been a lot easier if I’d got a spoodle.’
Henry was unperturbed by her rant, even helping out by nudging the back door open for her.
But Henry was no help at all as she dressed for a curry dinner with a colleague. Her black jeans were fine, but what top? The T-shirt with a pattern and a few sequins to make it sparkle wasn’t dressy but might be considered so for a casual dinner, yet a plain T looked too plain, and her white shirt looked like work, while the green one—a favourite—had developed a nasty habit of popping the top button, revealing too much cleavage for a curry with the boss.
‘If he hadn’t been with me, I could have ducked into that new shop at the mall,’ she grumbled at Henry, who was watching her fling tops on and off with a tolerant expression on his face.
In the end she settled on the white shirt, but tied a lacy, emerald green scarf around her neck.
‘Life’s all about compromise,’ she told the dog. ‘And, no, you weren’t invited. Which is just as well because if Minnie saw you drooling near a dinner table she’d go right off you.’
Her father was out, so she said goodbye to Henry and walked up the road, with each step regretting her decision a little more.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see Alex, or try his curry, just that the thought of an evening alone with him—any time alone with him—filled her with a cocktail of contradictory emotions.
So she was enormously relieved when it was Phil, not Alex, who opened the door to her.
‘I never disturb the chef when he’s creating,’ he told her, welcoming her with a huge smile and an only slightly less huge hug. ‘Come on in. See our place. Is it very different to yours?’
Annie looked around. It was furnished very differently—a man’s abode—but the house plan was the same and a sense of familiarity made her feel instantly at home.
Phil was explaining how his date had stood him up, and was ushering Annie in, arm around her waist, when Minnie came hurtling from the kitchen to greet the new arrival.
Annie scooped up the little dog, using the movement to move away a little from Phil. She held the black bundle of delight close to her chest and pressed kisses on its soft, curly head, then glanced up to see Alex watching from the kitchen door.
Watching and frowning.
‘What? I’m not allowed to kiss her? But she’s adorable!’
The frown disappeared, replaced by a smile.
‘Kiss away,’ he said easily, but Annie had to wonder what he’d been thinking to prompt the frown. ‘Phil’s told you he’s joining us?’
Annie nodded, still cuddling the dog.
‘I did offer to go out rather than play gooseberry,’ Phil said. ‘But Alex assured me it was only a neighbourly, colleague type dinner and I didn’t feel so bad.’
Annie had been thinking of saying much the same thing to him—hadn’t she spent the short walk convincing herself that was all it was?—yet she felt put out that Alex had been so quick to label it that way.
That’s all it is, she reminded herself as she set Minnie back on the floor, but as she straightened she saw Alex give a little shrug, and wondered if he’d felt the same disappointment.
‘You might offer our guest a drink,’ Alex said, then he disappeared back into the kitchen.
‘Is he the kind of chef who hates having an audience as he works, or could we join him in the kitchen?’ Annie said, holding the light beer Phil had poured her. ‘It seems kind of antisocial to be drinking out here while he’s slaving in the kitchen.’
‘I wouldn’t venture in there,’ Phil said. ‘You’ve heard him swear when things go wrong in Theatre. Well, he’s twice as bad in the kitchen.’
But if you weren’t here, surely I’d have been invited to join him, Annie thought, but she didn’t say it, wondering if Alex had regretted his decision to ask her to dinner and persuaded Phil to stay.
Then Alex announced the meal was ready, and Phil escorted Annie into the big kitchen where the table was set with an array of condiments and sambals, and the tantalising scent of curry spices filled the air.
‘After living with him in Melbourne, I know the deal with the little dishes. These are all cooling ones,’ Phil said, pointing to cucumber in yoghurt, and sliced fruits, ‘while the chutneys will make it hotter. Don’t touch this one, potent chilli, unless you like eating fire.’
Annie glanced at Alex, wondering if he minded Phil taking over the host’s role, and saw the real host smile, sharing her amusement at Phil’s behaviour.
‘I don’t mind a bit of fire,’ Annie said as Alex sat down and put a little of the chilli on the side of his plate.
Again Alex smiled at her, and a warmth that had nothing to do with curry, or the chilli sambal, or even premature menopause, spread through her.
Forgetting to feel apprehensive about whatever was happening between herself and Alex, she relaxed, settling down to enjoy the food and the conversation, pleased to be sharing talk and laughter with these two men.
The phone rang as they were finishing their second helpings, and Alex, who was closest to the kitchen extension, reached out to answer it.
He was on his feet within seconds, assuring someone he’d be right there.
‘It’s Amy. Her temperature’s going up and her blood count down—could be a haemorrhage somewhere.’
‘I’ll go,’ Phil offered, but Alex shook his head.
‘No, it’s my job to see it through. Let Annie finish dinner and you see her home. You can come up then if I’m not back.’
Phil’s behaviour was exemplary, and when he put his arm around her as they walked back to her place, she accepted it, knowing he was a toucher, and telling herself they’d be working together for a year and she’d better get used to it. But having Phil walk her home wasn’t the same as having Alex do the short trip, and she felt a surge of regret that he’d been called away.
A totally uncalled-for surge of regret, given how adamant she’d been about their dinner together not being a date.
Phil saw her safely to her door, said goodnight, took a couple of steps towards the gate, then turned.
‘I’m sorry it was Alex called away, not me,’ he said. ‘He doesn’t do much relaxing and I think an evening with you would have been just what the doctor ordered for him.’
He grinned at her, then added, ‘Just what this doctor would have ordered, anyway.’
He hesitated, as if expecting her to say something, and when she didn’t, he spoke again.
‘Are you interested? In Alex?’
Another pause during which he maybe realised he’d overstepped some invisible boundary.
‘Not that it’s any
