Marcella tucked her arm affectionately through Kerr’s and gave it a squeeze. ‘My daughter doesn’t trust me,’ she confided. ‘I think she thought you might be another stuffed owl in a glass case.’
‘What’s going on?’ Maddy began to descend the stairs. ‘I was kidnapped,’ said Kerr. ‘From my office.’
‘By me,’ Marcella added with pride.
Kerr, propelling Marcella gently but firmly in the direction of the kitchen, said, ‘Thanks, but I think we can manage the rest of this by ourselves.’
When the kitchen door had closed behind Marcella, Maddy ventured further down the staircase.
Scarcely daring to breathe, she whispered, ‘Is it really you?’
‘Damn, don’t tell me you haven’t got your lenses in again.’ Kerr was smiling now; as she reached the last step, he took her trembling hands in his. ‘You’re about to be horribly disappointed if you thought I was Brad Pitt.’
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