week or so he’d been getting less sleep than a new mother of twins with colic.
‘You’re doing it again,’ Savannah chided.
‘Doing what?’
‘Looking at your watch. I hate it when you look at your watch like that.’
• Gabe smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘I know, I’m sorry, it’s called being a part of the real world. We can’t all be A-list movie stars taking a few months off between films. Some of us have to get back to London, earn a living.’
‘But I don’t want you to go. I’ll be all on my own.’ Pouting, Savannah slid her hands beneath his holey pink T- shirt.
Gabe gently removed them; thanks to her insecurity she was exhaustingly clingy. ‘Just a quick coffee, then I really do have to leave.’
He leaned against the Aga and watched Savannah make the coffee. Her actions were delicate, precise, as neat and organised as the kitchen itself, always wiping away wet mug rings with a J-cloth and cleaning up crumbs on the worktop. She was more than capable of keeping the cottage immaculate without Pauline the housekeeper — and owner of Bunty the yappy terrier.
‘Would you like to stay, if you could?’
Here came the rush of neediness again. To reassure her, Gabe said patiently, ‘Of course I would.’
‘OK. In that case, stay.’ Savannah tilted her head. ‘I’ll pay you what you would have earned.
How about that?’
‘How about that?’ echoed Gabe. ‘How about no?’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’m not a gigolo. Don’t take it personally.’ He held up his hands. ‘It’s just not something I could do. Look, I need to work tonight and tomorrow But I can come down on Sunday.’
‘Or I could come up tomorrow.’ Savannah looked hopeful. ‘Book a suite at the Ritz.’
‘Sunday’s better. I’ll see you here.’ Gabe shook his head; in London there were paparazzi everywhere and being holed up in a hotel wasn’t his idea of fun. At least down here in the depths of the countryside they could go out for walks, although Savannah’s preferred form of exercise was more bedroom-related. Not that he was complaining about that, and it wasn’t as if it would last forever. Next month she was off to the States to make two films back to back and their brief fling would be over.
‘Two whole days. I’m going to miss you.’ She threw her arms around him.
‘I’ll miss you too,’ said Gabe. He must give Sally a call on the way back, see if there was anything she wanted him to pick up. Reaching for his cup, he spilled a couple of drops of coffee on the flagstoned kitchen floor. Before he could reach for the J-cloth, Savannah had grabbed it and wiped up the drips, rinsed the cloth under the tap and squeezed it dry.
Gabe smiled to himself. Sally would never have done that. At best she would have casually scuffed at the drips with the sole of her shoe.
Chapter
Blythe loved to watch Lola at work in the shop, helping customers and making them smile. To the rest of the world Lola might be a capable 27-year-old but as far as Blythe was concerned she’d always be her little girl.
Spotting her, Lola waved and called over, ‘Hey, Mum, what a coincidence. Dad was in here just now! You missed him by five minutes.’
Blythe smiled and nodded, noting that Lola had stopped calling him Nick. She was happy for Lola that the two of them were getting on so well; she just wished Lola would stop trying to
‘Ooh, why don’t you come with us tonight? We’re going along to the opening of a new exhibition at the Simm Gallery, then on to dinner at Medici’s’ Eagerly Lola said, ‘How about the three of us going together? We can pick you up and drop you home afterwards.’
Correction, Lola would always be her persistent, never-give- up, endlessly hopeful little girl.
‘Thanks, love, but I won’t. You and Nick have a nice time. Art galleries aren’t really my thing.’
That was putting it politely; art galleries bored her witless.
Lola looked disappointed. ‘Oh well, what if we give the gallery a miss? We could just go to Medici’s instead, is that a better idea?’
Never-ever-give-up ..
‘Lola, it’s fine, I’m seeing Malcolm tonight. It’s quiz night at the Feathers and we’re going along to that. I don’t dislike your father, it’s just that we have our own lives to lead. Trust me, we’re both happier this way.’ Blythe hadn’t told Lola – had no intention of telling her – what had happened on the night of Lola’s dinner party when she and Nick had left at midnight and shared a taxi home. When it had arrived at her house in Streatham and Nick had invited himself in for a coffee, she’d gone along with the suggestion just to be polite. They’d chatted amicably enough for half an hour before Nick kissed her.
It should have been romantic but Blythe had felt nothing. At all. He’d done his level best but she hadn’t been able to summon so much as a goosebump of excitement. It was like being kissed by a packet of cornflakes.
Poor Nick, it hadn’t been his fault; he was undoubtedly a more than competent kisser, and with all the practice he’d undoubtedly had over the years possibly an Olympic-level one. But had he had any effect on her? No, he hadn’t. Once upon a time he’d meant everything in the world to her, but now she was completely immune to his charms.
Nul points.
It was a mystery how these things happened. But they did. ‘We could go upstairs,’ he’d murmured, all seduction guns blazing. ‘For old time’s sake.’
‘Oh Nick. Thanks for the offer.’ Blythe had smiled and given his arm a regretful pat. ‘But I don’t think so.’
He’d done the eyebrow thing then, that instantly familiar combination of surprise and disbelief.
