was it?
If only I hadn’t blushed, she castigated herself. I just hope he interprets it as anger, not embarrassment.
Because she couldn’t bear him to know that she didn’t have a clue what Nigel or any other man was like in bed. And she’d certainly never been openly challenged on the subject before—especially by a man who was also a complete stranger.
She knew what happened physically, of course. She wasn’t that much of a fool or an innocent. But she didn’t know what to expect emotionally.
She hoped that loving Nigel would be enough, and that he would teach her the rest. It was quite some time since he’d made a serious attempt to get her into bed, she thought remorsefully. But she couldn’t and wouldn’t delay the moment any longer. It was long overdue.
Perhaps it was the fear of rejection which had kept him away so often lately. She’d been so wrapped up in her own life and its worries that she hadn’t truly considered his feelings.
I’ve just been totally insensitive, she thought wearily. And the tragedy is that it took someone like Marc Delaroche to make me see it.
But from now on everything’s going to be different, she promised herself firmly.
* * *
I still can’t believe you’re back already,’ Lottie said, as she put a shepherd’s pie in the oven. ‘Your phone call gave me a real jolt. I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow at the earliest.’ She threw Helen a searching glance over her shoulder. ‘Didn’t you meet up with Nigel?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Helen said brightly. ‘We had an amazing lunch in one of the newest restaurants.’
‘Lunch, eh?’ Lottie pursed her lips. ‘Now, I had you down for a romantic dinner à deux, then back to his place for a night of seething passion. Supper with me is a pretty dull alternative.’
Helen smiled at her. ‘Honey, nothing involving you is ever dull. And, to be honest, I couldn’t wait to get out of London.’
Lottie gave her a careful look as she sat down at the kitchen table and began to string beans. ‘Your interview with the committee didn’t go so well?’
Helen sighed. ‘I honestly don’t know. Most of them seemed pleasant and interested, but perhaps they were humouring me.’
‘And is this Marc Delaroche guy that you phoned me about included in the ‘pleasant and interested’ category?’ Lottie enquired.
‘No,’ Helen returned, teeth gritted. ‘He is not.’
‘How did I guess?’ Lottie said wryly. ‘Anyway, following your somewhat emotional request from the station, I looked him up on the net.’
‘And he was there?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Lottie nodded. ‘And he’s into buildings.’
‘An architect?’ Helen asked, surprised.
‘Not exactly. He’s the chairman of Fabrication Roche, a company that makes industrial buildings—instant factories from kits, cheap and ultra-efficient, especially in developing countries. The company’s won awards for the designs, and they’ve made him a multimillionaire.’
‘Then what the hell is someone from that kind of background doing on a committee that deals with heritage projects?’ Helen shook her head. ‘It makes no sense.’
‘Except he must know about costing,’ Lottie pointed out practically. ‘And applying modern technology to restoration work. The others deal with aesthetics. He looks at the bottom line.’
Helen’s lips tightened. ‘Well, I hope the ghastly modern eyesore we met in today wasn’t a sample of his handiwork.’
‘I wouldn’t know about that.’ Lottie grinned at her. ‘But I’ve printed everything off for you to read at your leisure.’ She paused. ‘No photograph of him, I’m afraid.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Helen said quietly. ‘I already know what he looks like.’
And I know the way he looked at me, she thought, remembering her sense of helpless outrage as his gaze had moved over her body. And that glinting smile in his eyes…
She swallowed, clearing the image determinedly from her mind. ‘But thanks for doing that, Lottie. It’s always best to—know your enemy.’
‘Even better not to have an enemy in the first place,’ Lottie retorted, rinsing the beans in a colander. ‘Especially one with his kind of money.’ She went to the dresser to fetch a bottle of red wine and a corkscrew. ‘Did you tell Nigel how your interview went?’
Helen hesitated. ‘Some of it. He was really pushed for time, so I couldn’t go into details.’
‘And you’ll be seeing him this weekend, no doubt?’
‘Actually, no.’ Helen made her voice sound casual. ‘He’s got a party to go to. A duty thing for his chairman’s birthday.’
Lottie stared at her. ‘And he hasn’t asked you to go with him?’ She sounded incredulous.
‘Well, no,’ Helen admitted awkwardly. ‘But it’s no big deal. It will be a black tie affair, and Nigel knows quite well I haven’t anything to wear to something like that.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘He probably wanted to save me embarrassment.’
‘For the same reason he might have considered buying you an evening dress,’ Lottie said with a touch of curtness. ‘He can certainly afford it.’
Helen shrugged. ‘But he didn’t,’ she said. ‘And it really doesn’t matter.’ She paused. ‘Of course it will be different when we’re officially engaged.’
‘I hope so,’ Lottie agreed drily, filling their glasses.
‘And what about you?’ Helen was suddenly eager to change the subject. ‘Have you heard from Simon?’
Her friend’s face lit up, her blue eyes sparkling. ‘The dam’s nearly finished, and he’s coming home on leave next month. Only two weeks, but that’s better than nothing, and we’re going to talk serious wedding plans. He says from now on he’s only accepting contracts which allow accompanying wives, so I think he’s missing me.’
Helen smiled at her teasingly. ‘You can’t leave,’ she protested. ‘How are the locals to give dinner parties without you to cook for them?’
‘I promise I won’t go before I cater for your wedding reception,’ Lottie promised solemnly. ‘So can you please fix a date?’
‘I’ll make it a priority,’ Helen returned.
She was in a thoughtful mood when she walked home that night. There’d been a shower of rain about an hour before, and the air was heady with the scent of damp earth and sweet grass.
She was delighted at Lottie’s obvious happiness, but at the same time unable to subdue a small pang of envy.
She
