evening she tensed, sure he was about to pre-empt her and do the cancelling himself.
‘How are you, Joanna?’ he asked.
‘A bit weary. End of the week and all that. How about you?’
‘Very tired of grass. Aren’t you going to congratulate me?’
‘On what?’
‘For waiting until now to ring you. Are you impressed by my restraint?’
‘Yes,’ she said, laughing, suddenly so happy to hear that deep, drawling voice she didn’t care why he liked her as long as he did. ‘Deeply impressed.’
‘Did you miss me?’
‘Yes.’
There was silence for a moment. ‘I wonder,’ he said slowly, ‘if you realise how that makes me feel.’
‘Pleased, I hope.’
‘Massive understatement.’
‘That’s nice. I booked with Molly by the way,’ she added. ‘Seven-thirty for eight.’
‘Good. I’ll be with you at seven.’
‘Do you have more grass to cut before you come?’
‘No, thank God. Hand weeding tomorrow.’
‘No day off after all that grass?’
‘Not a chance. Nor do I want one. The time would drag too much until I see you again. What will you do with your Saturday morning?’
‘Kate has insisted that Jack play a round of golf with Grandpa tomorrow, to de-stress, so to make sure he does that I’ll keep her company and play with Kitty—who now knows about the baby. I think she hankers after a little sister.’
He chuckled. ‘How about you?’
‘I just want a healthy baby and my mother in good shape.’
‘Amen to that! Goodnight, Joanna.’
‘Goodnight, March.’
Next day Jo played with Kitty for most of the morning, as planned, then ate the sandwich lunch Kate made for them. When Jack and her grandfather arrived, Jo put up with more teasing about her date, then drove off to do some food shopping, and took a detour on the way home to have a word with Molly. The restaurant was ideally situated, halfway along a sidestreet of exclusive shops, with a solitary initial ‘M‘ in gold on the glass door. Having timed her visit until well after the lunchtime rush, Jo smiled at the handsome man who came hurrying to greet her.
‘Molly in the back?’
‘As always.’ Angelo kissed her on both cheeks. ‘You are very beautiful today, Joanna.’
‘Thank you, Angelo. So are you.’
He grinned and kissed his fingers to her as she went through to the spotless kitchen, where Molly Carter was directing her minions through preparations for the evening’s menu like a general readying troops for battle. She looked up with a broad smile.
‘Hi! So who are you bringing here tonight, then, love? Is it a celebration? Don’t tell me you’re marrying one of the twins!’
Jo shook her head, grinning. ‘I’d have to marry both of them, and I don’t think that’s allowed. It’s not a celebration tonight. Just dinner for two.’
‘I know that!’ said Molly impatiently. ‘But is your date a man?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Do I know him?’
‘I shouldn’t think so. I don’t know him that well myself.’
Molly checked the stock one of her crew was making, then looked up at Jo, her eyes narrowed. ‘Nice?’
‘Very. So I want something special. What have you got?’
‘All my food is special,’ retorted Molly. ‘But the sea bass is exceptional, and the saddle of lamb had such a good slug of gin in the marinade the meat will melt in the mouth.’ She frowned. ‘Why don’t you cook a meal for him yourself? Lord knows I taught you well enough.’
‘I did that last week. Beef Wellington.’
‘Showy, but reliable. Did he like it?’
‘He certainly ate a lot of it.’ Jo hesitated. ‘The thing is, Moll, he thinks my name is Sutton, and for now I want him to keep thinking that. So has Angelo booked me down as Logan?’
Molly eyed her quizzically. ‘What are you playing at, my girl?’
‘I’d just rather my date didn’t know I was Jack’s daughter—for a while, anyway.’
‘Ah! You want to be loved for yourself, not Daddy’s cash. All right. I’ll brief Angelo and ask him to reserve one of the parking spaces outside. Now, tell me, how’s Kate?’
By the time the doorbell rang that evening, prompt to the minute at seven, Jo had changed her dress once, her earrings twice, and persuaded herself that she would be happy in the redsoled black shoes which added five inches to her height and a touch of glamour to last year’s little black dress. She took in a deep breath, then opened it to smile at March, who was even browner of face than before, but with hair newly trimmed, and impressive in a formal dark suit.
‘Good evening, Miss Sutton.’ He gave her a comprehensive look from head to toe and bent to kiss her on both cheeks. ‘You look delectable.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, and closed the door. ‘I really must thank you again for the flowers. They were very extravagant, but I won’t scold you this time.’
He frowned as he followed her into the parlour. ‘You don’t like flowers?’
‘Of course I do, but you shouldn’t have gone to such expense. A text to say thank you would have been quite enough.’
He looked down his nose at her with hauteur, which was not, she saw with dismay, meant as a joke. ‘Enough for you, possibly, but not for me. I was simply expressing my appreciation.’
‘Oh, dear, I’ve offended you again.’
‘Yes.’ He moved closer, the hauteur heating to a predatory gleam. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’
She backed away. ‘If I kiss you better I’ll ruin all my hard work!’
‘Which would be a shame.’ He ran a finger down her cheek. ‘Apply the necessary balm later. When I bring you home.’
‘I’ll consider it. Would you like a drink?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ll save myself for a glass of wine over dinner. Does your friend Molly keep a good cellar?’
‘Her front-of-house man sees
