to do with it.’
‘Stuff that lot in the oven to heat up and put those on plates. Of course it would save time, effort and washing up if you just lined the boxes up on the table. I don’t suppose anyone would notice.’
She saw Robert and Monty exchange a startled look, and without another word she tied the apron around her waist, but it occurred to her that she would be better occupied getting to know Nick Gregson, trying to forget about Robert, than acting as unpaid kitchen hand. Probably.
She shrugged and gave her attention to the task in hand, arranging a pile of little savoury tarts on one plate, heaping chicken goujons around a bowl of sauce on another. When she turned to put them on the table, Robert was still standing in the doorway.
It was disconcerting to be the focus of his attention. He didn’t usually take so much notice of her, and she couldn’t believe that the silver and black top she was wearing was so spectacular that he was unable to take his eyes off her.
‘There’s another apron if you want to help,’ she said.
It had the desired effect. Robert helped himself to a pastry and deserted without another word.
A couple of hours later she’d had enough. She’d passed around food, caught up with the gossip, danced rather more than usual. It was a lovely party, except that every time she turned around Robert seemed to be there, watching her. It was unsettling. She didn’t want him looking at her. Not with that little crease that might just be concern dividing his brows. She’d thought she knew everything there was to know about the way his mind worked, but this was different.
Not that things had changed that much. He was still the focus of attention for every unattached girl at the party, and quite a few who weren’t, and she had no expectation that, come the witching hour, he would still be looking for a cup of coffee and a bacon sandwich. But there was no way she was going to allow him to delegate the task of seeing her home to anyone else.
Taking advantage of a distraction caused by the still hopeful brunette, she retrieved her coat and considered looking for Monty, but decided instead to phone him later in the week. Nick cut her off before she reached the door.
‘Hey! You weren’t thinking of leaving without me, were you? We’re almost engaged.’
Torn between irritation and a certain satisfaction that someone was capable of seeing more to her than a girl who could fill the gaps, or pass around the canapés, she found herself laughing. ‘No, we’re not.’
‘You’re playing very hard to get.’ He made it sound as if she was the one being unreasonable.
‘I’d hoped you realised I was playing impossible.’
‘Nothing is impossible. Once, in Las Vegas, I married a woman I’d only just met.’
‘Really?’ Why didn’t that surprise her? ‘Only once?’
‘Well—’
‘And are you still married to her?’
‘Of course not.’ He looked hurt at the suggestion. ‘I’m not a bigamist. That’s the great thing about Las Vegas. Married today …’ he clicked his fingers ‘… divorced tomorrow.’
‘Just like that?’
‘Well, very nearly.’ She wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. On balance she was rather afraid he was telling the truth. ‘Where would you like to get married? We could stop over somewhere exotic and have one of those beach ceremonies. I’ve always rather fancied one of those. What about Bali?’
It was a tough choice. Right now Bali sounded a lot more fun than yellow velvet, but it wasn’t really any contest. The dress, after all, was just for a few hours whereas, unlike Nick, she viewed marriage as a lifetime commitment. ‘I’m allergic to sand,’ she said. ‘And I’m scared of flying.’
‘Are you?’ That seemed to throw him momentarily. ‘A shipboard wedding, then? The ship’s captain doing the honours?’
‘It’s a myth that you can be legally married by the captain of a ship,’ she told him. The joke was beginning to wear very thin. ‘And right now all I’m interested in is going home. Alone.’ She turned and walked out into the street.
He wasn’t that easy to shake off. ‘The streets aren’t safe for a woman on her own,’ he said, following her.
‘Maybe not, but how safe are they with you?’
And this time when he smiled she fancied it was less a sexual display of teeth than genuine good humour. ‘As safe as you want them to be. Scout’s honour,’ he promised.
Before she could tell him that she didn’t believe he had ever been a Scout, he had hailed a passing black cab.
‘Daisy!’ Robert. ‘There you are, sweetheart. I was looking for you. I’m just about ready for the coffee and sandwich you promised,’ he said, taking her arm and smiling cordially at Nick as he opened the taxi door and held it for her while she stepped inside. ‘Thanks for the taxi, Gregson. Black cabs are as rare as hen’s teeth at this time of night.’
And with that he stepped in after her and closed the door, leaving Nick Gregson standing alone on the pavement as they drove away.
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