chicken in the fridge, and plenty of salad ingredients. Unless you’d rather go out, of course?’
‘I thought you would,’ he said after a moment. ‘You’ve never given the impression of being very enamoured of playing the housewife.’
‘I’m not,’ she agreed lightly. ‘Not as a full-time job, at any rate. But I’ve no objection to preparing the odd meal, and chicken salad hardly calls for any great culinary expertise.’
Zac’s smile was brief. ‘True enough. Salad it is, then.’
Jessica had spoken the truth just now, but it was an attitude that was going to have to change to a great degree with a baby to care for, came the thought. Something she would just have to tackle when the time came. The problem right now was how and when to impart the news.
Large and imposing with its mock Tudor frontage, the Sevenoaks house was the antithesis of their own abode, though Jessica had no doubts about her preference. Brady made little effort to conceal the fact that it hadn’t been his idea to invite them over.
Richard Henry was already developing a distinct personality. Zac slanted a smile at the resounding raspberry blown in his direction.
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