‘So they do,’ he acknowledged in that too-mild voice. ‘But which mistake of yours are we referring to?’
This was actually a really nice pub, out in the country, with an olde-worlde atmosphere that seemed natural rather than contrived. There was a very attractive man sitting at her side and in other circumstances Mattie would have enjoyed herself. In other circumstances …
‘Look, I was the one who came to see you this morning, with the intention of apologizing for my mistake, and—and—’
‘Yes?’ Jack prompted as she broke off to look at him quizzically.
‘What do you mean, which mistake of mine?’ Mattie frowned.
‘Ah.’ He gave a humourless smile. ‘So you’ve finally realized that you may have made more than one.’
The only one that she could see was in daring to challenge this man—which, she freely admitted, was definitely a mistake! But Jack seemed to be implying she had got something else wrong …?
‘You mentioned your family yesterday,’ she began again slowly. ‘I assumed you meant a wife and children …?’
‘No wife. No children,’ he told her evenly. ‘Parents. And several siblings. One of which you met earlier today.’
Mattie looked sceptical. ‘And they are the family you’re going away with to Paris this weekend?’ He couldn’t really expect her to believe that explanation! Paris was a place for lovers, not for a man in his early thirties to visit with his parents and siblings!
He nodded, totally unconcerned by her obvious scepticism. ‘My youngest sister—Alexandra; you met her earlier,’ he reminded her.
‘Yes …’ Mattie agreed, still not convinced about that particular relationship.
He shrugged. ‘She recently became engaged, and decided that she would like to have her celebration dinner at the restaurant on the Eiffel Tower.’
Mattie didn’t know whether to laugh at the absurdity of this explanation, or to feel envious that someone could actually decide such a thing—and then it happened! Whichever way, it sounded highly unlikely to her.
‘So you don’t have a wife,’ Mattie accepted; maybe she could concede she might have been wrong about that.
‘Or four girlfriends,’ Jack Beauchamp told her firmly.
‘Well … probably not any more!’ Mattie couldn’t hold back her grin.
He still wasn’t sporting any visible signs of having recently encountered a woman—or indeed four women!—scorned, but for a man with a number of girlfriends he didn’t seem to have had any problem finding himself free to see her this evening!
‘Do you know what I think, Mattie?’ he spoke consideringly. ‘I think your father should have smacked your bottom more when you were a little girl!’ he continued, before she had time to think of a wisecrack answer concerning her lack of interest in what he thought about anything.
Her smile faded. ‘That might have been a little difficult—you see, he died when I was three,’ she explained evenly.
She had only vague memories of her father, a tall man who had used to throw her over his shoulder and carry her up to bed, a man who had always been laughing. She remembered her mother had always seemed to be laughing in those days too …
‘I’m sorry.’ Jack Beauchamp’s quiet apology brought her back to an awareness of where she was—and exactly who she was with. ‘That must have been difficult for you.’
‘More so for my mother, I would think,’ Mattie replied, giving a dismissive shrug to hide the pain talk of her father’s premature death could still cause her.
‘Yes …’
Mattie waited for Jack to carry on with his earlier rebuke, and when he didn’t she turned to look at him. He was obviously deep in thought, although his enigmatic expression made it impossible to even guess what those thoughts were about. As long as he wasn’t feeling sorry for her because of her father—
‘You see, Mattie,’ he suddenly rasped, ‘your recent—behaviour, has put me in something of an awkward position.’
‘Oh, yes?’ she prompted warily—she didn’t need to ask which part of her behaviour he was talking about; Jack Beauchamp no more believed her story about it being a genuine mistake, that she had mixed up the cards that had accompanied his bouquets, than she did his claim about those four women not being his girlfriends!
‘Oh, yes,’ he confirmed dryly, turning to look at her once again. ‘Of course, there is a way round it …’
Why did Mattie suddenly have the feeling that she wasn’t going to like his way round his particular problem?
Although there was no way she could possibly have been prepared for his next question!
‘Do you have a valid passport?’
‘Do I have a what?’ she gasped incredulously.
‘A valid passport,’ Jack repeated calmly.
‘Well, yes, I— What do you want to know that for?’ she demanded suspiciously; she had acquired a passport for the first time the previous year, when she and her mother had managed to get away, for the first time in years, to Greece for a week’s holiday. But what business was it of Jack Beauchamp’s whether or not she had a valid passport?
‘I’ve explained to you that I’m going to Paris this weekend,’ he reminded her.
‘For your sister’s engagement dinner …’ she recalled slowly.
‘Well, I wasn’t going alone,’ he told her with an air of regret.
‘You mentioned your parents and siblings are all going to be there too—’
‘No, Mattie,’ Jack Beauchamp drawled mockingly. ‘I meant I wasn’t going alone. And if you have a valid passport, I’m still not.’
‘I don’t— Ah.’ She winced as his meaning suddenly became clear. Obviously one of those four women he had sent flowers to over the weekend had been going to Paris with him.
Had been … Because after what Mattie had done with the cards she doubted any of those women were still speaking to him, let alone going to Paris for any weekend with him! Which meant it had to have been the unmarried one. Now which one had she been, Sally or Sandy or—
Did it really matter? Mattie instantly chided herself; Jack Beauchamp seemed to be telling her, with his question concerning her own passport, that, now she had put paid to his original companion for his weekend, she would have to accompany him instead!
‘I don’t think so, Mr Beauchamp,’ she told him loftily. Exactly what did he think she was? She sold and delivered flowers; she did not hire herself out for weekends in Paris!
‘You don’t?’
‘No, I don’t!’ Her voice rose indignantly,
