‘You don’t have to say that.’
‘No. I don’t.’ But his voice had changed imperceptibly. ‘But, just for the record, you do have amazing eyes, and when I said that you’re a big girl now I didn’t mean it in the literal sense.’
‘You didn’t?’
‘I meant you’ve grown up. That dress makes you look sexy.’
‘Sexy? Me?’
‘You. Why do you sound so shocked?’
Because you’re saying it, she thought, while her face burnt and her pulses raced and her heart sang. ‘Let’s hope Stewart agrees! ‘ Just in case those laser-sharp eyes of his could bore a hole in her head and pluck out that inappropriate thought.
‘Stewart. The hot date. Yes.’ His voice was clipped and he reached to open his car door. ‘I’ll come in with you. Hang on…’ He leaned across and carefully rubbed his finger under her eye, and then he laughed softly when she jerked back in surprise.
‘Relax. Just a bit of smudged mascara. Anyone would think you’d never been touched before, Agatha.’
‘I…I have my hankie. Well, your hankie. I can do that! Could you switch on the light? I need to have a look at my face. Make sure my eyes aren’t too puffy.’ She laughed shrilly, and then chattered and tutted and avoided eye contact as she inspected her face in her little hand mirror, so that by the time she had finished dabbing and rubbing she could present him with a bright, tinny smile.
‘Right, all ready! Can’t wait!’
Three and a half hours later, a driving, bitter rain greeted her outside.
‘So, when can I see you again?’
Agatha looked at Stewart who was pressed a bit closer to her than she would have liked—unavoidable because they were both sheltering under his umbrella. She had made sure that the buttons on her coat were done up to the neck. Whilst it had been flattering to be the object of his compliments, she had felt uncomfortable under his roving eye, even though she knew that this was what she should have expected. Several times she had caught him addressing her cleavage.
Also, her mind had been all over the place, analyzing and re-analysing everything Luc had said to her, then picking apart what she remembered of their conversation so that she could begin the process all over again. She had had to ask Stewart to repeat himself several times, had failed to notice the quality of the wine, which he had brushed aside—although she knew that he had been offended from the mottled colour of his neck—and had left most of her main course because she had accidentally ordered the wrong thing from the menu, which was in Italian.
She had no idea why he wanted to see her for a second date, and it felt almost churlish to have to think about it when he had been so good to overlook her little lapses and show so much interest in everything she had to say about every aspect of her life and job, however insignificant the detail.
‘Tomorrow’s Saturday,’ he murmured. ‘I know a great little club in Chelsea. Anybody who’s anybody is a member. You wouldn’t believe the famous faces I’ve spotted there; you’d love it.’
‘Maybe we can do something next week.’
Stewart pouted with disappointment but picked himself up with remarkable ease, and as he reached out to hail a cab he pulled her close to him and, before she could wriggle away, planted a hot, laughing kiss full on her mouth.
‘Sure I can’t tempt you back to my place? I make a pretty good Irish coffee, if I say so myself.’
Agatha laughed and declined, and was guiltily relieved when he slid into the taxi, taking his umbrella with him, cheerily insouciant to the fact that she was now in the process of being drenched. And would therefore have to hail a cab, even though a taxi ride back to North London would be a ridiculous waste of money.
And, now that she did require one, there were none to be spotted. Although…
A familiar silver car pulled up to the kerb and she found the passenger door pushed open, waiting for her to oblige.
‘Get in, Agatha. Or risk pneumonia.’
‘Wow. How did you do that—show up just when I was about to start walking to the underground? Anyway.’ she straightened ‘…I can’t have you messing up your Friday night to give me a lift home because you feel sorry for me.’ She dug her hands into her pockets and began walking towards the underground while the car trailed her, sped up and then the passenger door was flung open again and Luc was glaring out at her from the driver’s seat.
‘Get in or I’ll have to get out, lift you up and chuck you in. Do you want that? Do you want that kind of scene in the middle of Knightsbridge? ‘
‘Have you been here the whole time waiting for me?’ she asked as soon as she was inside the car, luxuriating in the warmth and dryness.
‘Don’t be crazy, but I had to come back here for you.’
‘Why on earth would you have to do that? I know you think I’m a hopeless case, but I’ve been getting to and from work every day on public transport. I know how to use the buses and tubes! Course, it took a little time, but I got there in the end. Mum hates it. She keeps telling me that tubes are a breeding ground for muggers. And she’s only been to London a handful of times—and never on a tube! Gosh, sorry; I’m talking too much again.’ But like a bad dream all thoughts of her date had disappeared like a puff of smoke.
‘I got Antonio to call me when you were about to pay the bill.’
‘Who’s Antonio?’
‘The owner of the place. We go back a long way.’
‘What if Stewart and I had decided to move on to somewhere else—a club, or a bar? Or I could just have decided to go back to his place.’
‘Did he ask you to? ‘
‘As a matter of fact, he did.’
‘And you turned him down. Good girl. Wise decision.’
‘Who knows what I’ll say the next time he asks, though?’She looked across at him. He had changed out of his work clothes into a pair of dark jeans and a thick, black jumper. His coat had been tossed to the back seat. She was ashamed to admit even to herself that if she had all the time in the world, she would never tire looking at him.
He opened his mouth as though on the verge of saying something, only to think better of it.
‘So you’ve arranged another date, have you?’
‘Not as such…’ She teased those three little words out as long as she could. ‘Who knows?’
‘Who knows indeed? ‘ Luc intoned in a peculiar voice.
‘What have you done this evening?’ she asked a little breathlessly.
‘Work. I’ve been working on, eh, a very interesting project, let’s just say.’
‘Do you know, it’s great that you enjoy your job
