OK?’ he said softly, and she closed her eyes in despair. Of all the times to bump into someone you didn’t know well enough to howl on.
‘I’ll live,’ she muttered, and forced herself to meet his eyes. They were gentle with understanding, and suddenly she was glad he was there because, know him or not, he was at least in the same boat.
‘You look like I feel,’ he said with a rueful smile. ‘How about a coffee?’
She nodded. ‘I was just going in. Have you only just arrived?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I was leaving. I’m in no hurry, though, and I’m sure I could force down another cup. You know what they say about misery loving company.’
Her laugh was a little strangled, and it ended on something suspiciously like a sob, but at least it was a laugh, and maybe she’d cried enough.
‘Coffee sounds good,’ she said, and for the first time in hours, she managed a genuine smile. ‘Thanks.’
‘My pleasure,’ he murmured, and his voice sent little fingers of anticipation shivering up and down her spine.
Don’t be a fool, he’s married, she told herself fiercely, but his eyes were smiling and her heart was clearly not listening at all…
CHAPTER TWO
SHE looks gutted, Owen thought as they headed towards the restaurant. Empty and hollow and a little lost, just how he felt. He held the door for Cait and caught a drift of scent—not really perfume, just a subtle trace of something tantalising mingled with the warmth of her skin.
The waiter came up to him, looking puzzled. ‘Did you leave something behind, sir?’ he asked, and Owen shook his head.
‘No. I’ve just bumped into a friend and decided to come back,’ he said, and then wondered if it were rather overstating the case to call her a friend. Probably. A slight acquaintance was nearer the mark.
Very slight.
And yet he felt he knew her, because they were sharing the same very real and basic emotions at the moment and that gave them an instant connection.
He ushered her to a seat, his hand resting lightly on the smooth, supple curve of her spine, and as they sat down opposite each other she flashed him a small but potent smile that hit him right in the solar plexus.
‘Thank you for rescuing me,’ she said softly. ‘I hate coming into places like this alone, but I couldn’t go on any longer without…’
She trailed off, so he finished the sentence for her. ‘Letting go?’ he suggested. His grin felt crooked. ‘Been there, done that.’
Cait searched his face with her luminous grey eyes, and he wondered if the few renegade tears that had escaped his rigid control had left their mark. So what if they had? he decided. He loved his son. After all they’d been through together, Josh was worthy of his tears.
‘Are you OK?’ she asked gently, and he gave a soft grunt of laughter.
‘I’ll do,’ he said with a sigh, and she smiled back, tucking her long dark hair behind her ears and fiddling with her watchstrap.
‘Hell, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘I’ve spent years working towards this with her, and now it’s come I feel—oh, I don’t know what I feel.’
‘Oh, I do,’ he said with heartfelt sympathy. ‘I know exactly how you feel.’
Her smile was a bit wonky. ‘Oh, well. At least you didn’t make an ass of yourself in the car park,’ she told him drily, and he chuckled.
‘I wouldn’t bet on it.’
The waiter came up to them, pad in hand, and asked if they were ready to order.
‘Coffee?’ Owen suggested, and she nodded.
‘Please.’
‘Anything else? We could always eat if you’re hungry.’
He met her eyes, those lovely soft grey eyes with the dark line defining the iris. Her skin was clear, her lips soft and mobile, and he had an insane urge to kiss them. Just now they were moving, saying something, and he had to pull himself together almost physically. ‘Sorry, I didn’t catch that,’ he said, and she gave him an odd look.
Dear me, you’re losing it, Owen, old chum, he told himself, and felt heat crawl up his neck.
‘I said, I don’t want to hold you up,’ Cait repeated. ‘Won’t your wife be waiting for you?’
Jill. His embarrassment faded, replaced by the ache of an old, familiar sadness.
He shook his head. ‘No. No, she won’t be waiting,’ he said softly. ‘What about you? Will there be someone waiting for you?’
She shook her head. Something flickered briefly in her eyes that found an echo in his lonely soul. It was replaced by her slightly off-kilter smile. ‘No. No one’s waiting for me, except the cat, and she can cope.’
‘So—how about it?’
‘I tell you what, I’ll bring your coffee while you decide,’ the waiter said, giving up on them and handing them a menu each. Owen felt a twinge of guilt. He’d forgotten the man’s existence.
‘Thanks,’ he murmured, and raised a brow at Cait. ‘Well?’
She looked down at the menu, then up at him again. ‘Um—if you’ve got time, I wouldn’t mind something light.’
‘Have whatever. I’m going for a truly wicked fry-up.’
Her eyes widened, and then she laughed, a low, musical sound that played hell with his composure. ‘Comfort food?’ she said wryly, and he chuckled.
‘Something like that. Plus I don’t have Josh nagging me. He’s a health-food freak. How he’ll survive in halls I can’t imagine.’
‘Milly will be in clover. My cooking’s hit and miss at the best of times, and most of the time I’m too busy to worry. I can’t remember when I last cooked anything like a roast—well, apart from last night, but it was sort of the Last Supper and the Prodigal Son all rolled into one, if you get my drift.’
He did. He’d done just the same thing, only they’d gone out to a restaurant and then on to a pub and caught a taxi home, both a little the worse for wear and a bit subdued this morning.
The waiter brought their coffee, and Owen poured them both a cup and sat back, stirring his cream in absently and thinking about Josh and how odd it was going to be at home without him.
‘So, what do you do that keeps you so busy?’ he asked with deliberate cheer, changing the subject, and she laughed and rolled her eyes.
‘I’ve got a shop, for my sins—I hire and make ball gowns, and occasionally wedding dresses. It’s a bit seasonal, but there’s usually a steady flow of work. The balls are winter and the weddings are summer, in the main, so it pans out quite well. What about you?’
‘I’m
