to home, I guess.’ He gave a self-deprecating smile. ‘Bit selfish, really. We’re already seeing the effects of climate change on the seasons.’ Last year’s hot dry summer had had a major impact on the grasslands where the sheep grazed. ‘So what will you do?’
She shrugged. ‘I’ll be an ambassador. You know, do photoshoots highlighting the issues. Be the face of a campaign. I’m just waiting for the right offer.’
Nick nodded, feeling a little out of his depth. He had no idea how these things worked. They lapsed into silence for a minute, until the waiter came to take their order.
‘I’ll have the medallion of beef,’ said Tara before adding, to Nick’s surprise, ‘and can I have chips with it?’
‘We do pommes frites,’ said the waiter in a slightly stuffy accent, which made Nick want to laugh. They played five-a-side together on Thursdays and he was light years from stuffy.
‘Perfect,’ said Tara.
Nick grinned as soon as the waiter departed, taking his own order for confit of duck and seasonal vegetables. ‘And there you’ve blown the preconception that models never eat anything but salad and carrot sticks.’
Tara tossed her hair over her shoulder. ‘I have a fabulous metabolism. I can eat what I like.’ She almost sounded defiant.
Nick smiled. ‘That’s good to hear as the food here is excellent.’
Tara nodded and picked at the tines of her fork, before rearranging her cutlery several times.
‘So, do you have any brothers or sisters?’ Nick asked to fill the silence.
She shook her head, pulling her mouth into a sad little moue. ‘Just little old me. Mummy and Daddy had me very late in life. Poor Mummy nearly died, so Daddy put his foot down and said no more children. Mummy said that I was such a beautiful child, she was glad she couldn’t have any more children because she couldn’t bear risking having another child in case they were a disappointment.’ Tara gave a tinkling laugh and tilted her head on one side, looking up at him. ‘Isn’t that the sweetest thing? Of course, utter nonsense. All parents think their babies are perfect.’
Nick laughed. ‘You should speak to my mother. She doesn’t have any illusions about her children, but then she had five of us.’
‘Five! Good lord.’ Tara’s eyes widened dramatically and she put her hand on her stomach. ‘Gosh. That’s a lot. Your poor mother. That must have wrecked her figure.’
Nick’s mother would have laughed her head off at that comment; she adored all of her children. He was sure she wouldn’t have given it a second thought. ‘I’m not sure she sees it like that.’
‘Are they all as good-looking as you?’ Tara slapped her hand over her mouth, as if the compliment had slipped out by accident. She lowered her eyes to the table.
Nick laughed, thinking of the conversation between his brother and sister-in-law as he’d left. ‘I’m one of four brothers and one sister. I think we all agree that our little sister is the best-looking.’
‘Oh,’ said Tara, as if this was a very strange thing to say.
‘So what do you do when you’re not sheep farming?’ she asked.
‘It’s not exactly a nine-to-five job,’ said Nick, ‘but when I can, I like to get away from the farm. My sister lives in Paris—’
‘Oh, I adore Paris. I was there for the Paris Fashion Shows. I did a catwalk show for Dior this year. It’s such a super city. When were you last there?’
They talked Paris, with Nick dredging up everything he could possibly remember of his two visits there, until dinner arrived.
Tara certainly had a healthy appetite and scoffed down her food as if she were starving.
‘You were hungry,’ he said, looking at her clean plate as he finished the last of his food.
‘I was in the fresh air all day,’ snapped Tara, again sounding defensive.
‘I had no idea modelling was such hard work,’ said Nick. Clearly she wasn’t used to the sort of banter he enjoyed with his family. He ought to remember she wasn’t from a big family like his.
‘It’s not for everyone. I don’t think people realise how hard it is. They just think we turn up and have our photos taken.’
The waiter appeared and took away their plates before returning with the dessert menu. ‘Would you like anything else?’ he asked.
‘I shouldn’t,’ said Tara, perusing the menu, her tongue poking out rather adorably between her lips. ‘Are you going to have anything?’
‘I’ve not really got a sweet tooth.’
Her face fell.
‘But we could share something, perhaps?’ he suggested.
‘Yes, the profiteroles. I adore them.’
Nick ordered dessert with two spoons, although he needn’t have bothered because, although the dish was placed in front of him, as quick as a snake, Tara’s hand would strike and snatch a spoonful of choux pastry and cream. She made regular moans of delight with each mouthful.
‘I haven’t had chocolate in ages. I’d forgotten how delicious it is. Such a sensual pleasure, don’t you think?’ She dipped her spoon in the last of the chocolate sauce and slowly licked the back of it with long slow strokes, all the while her eyes intent on Nick. She let out a breathy sigh. ‘That silky richness on your tongue.’ She ran her tongue up and down the handle of the spoon, her eyes dark and sultry with the sort of promise that had Nick shifting in his seat, very relieved that the tablecloth was covering things up.
When the waiter came to clear away the dessert dish, Nick was ready to decline coffee and take Tara straight back to the George. Given the suggestive signals she’d been sending him, he thought they were on the same page, but she rose from her seat, tossing her napkin on the table.
‘Darling, could you order me an espresso? I just need to go to the ladies. Sort myself out.’
‘OK,’ he said, ordering himself a cappuccino and settling back in his seat, feeling his heated skin start to cool. He pulled out his phone, quickly checking his Facebook feed, smiling as he saw a post from his sister, Nina.
Chocolate Heaven was the caption underneath a picture of a perfect chocolate éclair and her fingers and thumbs just beyond it, shaped in a love heart.
God, how much would Tara enjoy one of those and what sort of state would he be in, watching her eat it?
Looks delish, sis, he posted quickly, scrolling through more of her pictures. Since going to Paris to run a patisserie and moving in with her boyfriend, Sebastian, who happened to be Nick’s best friend, Nina had become the queen of éclairs and all things sugar. Perhaps he could take Tara there one day. He had a sneaking suspicion she might rather like it.
He commented on a few pictures, liked a few others and then realised a full fifteen minutes had elapsed. Where was Tara? Please don’t say she’d done a runner. No, surely not.
