them.
Finally, unable to put it off any longer, she returned to the terrace, where the two men were deep in a conversation involving boats.
Zahir looked up. ‘Okay?’
‘Fine. Thank you,’ she said primly.
His only response was one of those quiet smiles that undid all the hard work of the last five minutes. At least with regard to breathing and composure.
It was all very well saying that he’d be in Paris tomorrow—and no, she couldn’t possibly go with him—but she had the rest of today to get through before then.
And no escape.
The rest of lunch, however, proved uneventful since Zahir was more interested in what Jeff had to say than in winding her up. And, like an idiot, she actually found herself missing their dangerous exchanges.
Just how stupid could one woman get?
Afterwards, the two men set off to tour the marina and it was Jeff, not Zahir, who glanced back and said, ‘Can we tempt you to join us, or are you more interested in the shops than boats?’
Freddy, Diana thought, would have been in his element amongst the boats. He loved going on river trips. And that was what they’d do this half-term. A jaunt up to Greenwich on the river to look at the Cutty Sark and the Maritime Museum. They could even take a ride on a narrow boat along the Regent’s Canal to the Zoo.
She realised that they were waiting for her answer.
Or had she been waiting for Zahir to add his voice to the invitation? Encourage her to join them?
‘The shops have it, every time,’ she replied quickly, taking the wiser course and putting as much distance between them as possible.
The way things were going, he was bound to say something, give her one of those ironic looks that would leave her with an uncontrollable desire to push him into the harbour—and how would she explain that to Sadie?
‘How long have I got?’
‘How long do you need?’ Zahir replied. Then, with a smile that suggested he knew exactly what was going on in her head, said, ‘An hour should do it.’
She collected her wallet from the glove box, stuffed it into her trouser pocket and set off for the town centre. Although the possibility that she’d be able to afford anything in the small, exotic boutiques they’d passed on their way down to the quay was totally nil, she’d enjoy the window-shopping. She might be short of spare cash, but she could dream.
But Sweethaven, she discovered, had more to offer than just designer boutiques and when she saw a real old-fashioned bookshop she pushed open the door and went inside.
She browsed for something for her father. Found a paperback thriller that she knew he’d love. Then she spotted a circular stand containing the small children’s books that she’d loved as a child and, as she spun it, looking for something that Freddy would enjoy, she found herself face to face with a familiar title in the fairy tale series.
She took it down, flipping through it, smiling at the remembered pictures, including the Prince, no longer a frog but respectably buttoned up to the neck in a fancy uniform as he stood beside the astonished princess.
On an impulse she picked it up, found another with every kind of nautical knot for Freddy, before realising that time was running out and hurrying back to the quayside car park. Zahir and Jeff were already there.
‘I’m sorry …’ she began as Jeff shook hands with Zahir, raised a hand to her and returned to his office.
‘No problem. We’ve only just got here. Did you find anything exciting?’ Then, seeing the name on the paper carrier she was holding, ‘Books?’
She’d been going to give The Princess and the Frog to him, just to make him laugh. Quite suddenly, it didn’t seem such a bright idea. ‘They’re children’s books,’ she said.
‘Oh? Whose children?’
Tell him …
Tell him and see that look? The speculative You’ve-got-a-kid? look. The one that says, Whoa! Easy …
While she stood there, frozen, he took the carrier from her, opened it and took out the thriller and held it up. ‘This is what you give children to read?’
She snatched it from him. ‘That’s for my dad.’
He took another look in the bag and this time came up with the book of knots that she’d bought for Freddy. ‘He’s a sailor?’
‘He was a taxi-driver. He had a stroke.’
That set him back. ‘I’m sorry, Diana.’
‘He’s not an invalid.’
‘But he can’t drive?’
‘No.’
He gave her a long measuring look, then took out the last book. And that made him smile. ‘Oh, I get it. You wanted to check your version against the original.’
She shook her head. ‘I was close enough, but when I saw it I thought of Ameerah,’ she said, fingers crossed. ‘Maybe she’d like it to go with her snow globe?’
‘I’m sure she’d love it.’
‘Good.’ She reclaimed the bag, put the books away. ‘I’ll wrap it for her,’ she said, tucking it beneath her seat. ‘You can give it to her on Saturday.’
‘Why don’t you give it to her yourself?’
‘She doesn’t know me,’ she said abruptly.
‘You can remedy that while we chug down the Regent’s Canal.’
She wondered if he’d be as eager for her company if she suggested she bring her five-year-old son along for the ride. The one whose father had been a villain.
‘I don’t think so. Are you ready to go?’
He nodded but, as she backed out of the car to open the rear door for him, she discovered that he’d walked around and opened the front passenger door.
‘If I sit in the back, Jeff, who’s watching us from his office window right now, might just get the impression that you’re no more than my chauffeur,’ he said in response to her obvious confusion. ‘You wouldn’t want that, would you?’
‘I don’t actually give a damn what he thinks,’ she replied. Definitely not a response out of the perfect chauffeur’s handbook, but then he wasn’t the perfect client. ‘But you’re the boss. If you want to sit in front, then sit in front.’
‘Thank you for that. I was beginning to wonder for a moment. About being the boss.’
‘Making me responsible for contract negotiation must have gone to my head,’ she replied, before replacing her sunglasses and sliding in beside him. Bumping shoulders as he leaned towards
