‘The guy you were holed up with in that temple?’
‘Yes.’ She avoided Daisy’s gaze, picking up her pen again, making a pretence of jotting down a note. ‘We talked about the documentary and he said he’d like to see it. He was probably just being polite, but it won’t hurt to give him a call and invite him along to the screening tonight.’
‘Okay.’
‘Tell him that he’s welcome to bring a guest.’
The screening was for the network chiefs, the press, overseas buyers. After the awards they’d picked up for their first documentary, there had been considerable interest in the new film and Manda had laid on a buffet and a well stocked bar to keep the hacks happy.
She left Belle and Ivo to greet their guests-she was their ‘face’ after all-and kept herself busy with the money men. She’d positioned herself with her back to the door, determined not to be caught watching for Nick.
According to Daisy, he’d said he’d be delighted to come. But ‘delighted’ might just be being polite. Or maybe Daisy was being kind.
Neither Belle nor Daisy had said a word about the fact that she’d been trapped in the dark with a good-looking man for fifteen hours. Which suggested they suspected that the two of them had connected in some way.
Fortunately, she was still scary enough that neither of them had dared broach the subject.
Daisy hadn’t said whether he was bringing a guest and Manda didn’t ask.
‘Manda?’
She turned as Daisy touched her arm, excusing herself, gladly, from a monologue on the necessity of tax incentives for film-makers.
‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing. I could see you were glazing over, but I’ve been thinking about Rosie. She’d go back to the places she knew. Where she felt safe. I just thought…’
‘What?’ But Daisy’s attention had been caught by something behind her and she turned to see what it was.
A man. Tall, dark, freshly barbered and shaved.
‘Nick…’ His name caught in her throat.
‘Hello, Miranda.’
Daisy waited for an introduction but she couldn’t speak and, after a moment, she said, ‘I’ll…um…go and start shepherding people through, shall I?’ Then, to herself, ‘Yes, Daisy, you do that…’
‘You look…different,’ Manda finally managed. ‘In a suit.’
‘Good different, or bad different?’
‘Good.’ In a dark bespoke suit, shirt unbuttoned at the neck, the kind of tan that was so deep it would never completely fade, he made everyone else present look stitched up, dull. No wonder Daisy had been staring…‘Not that you looked bad…’Oh, good grief. So much for walking away, not looking back, just being grateful for that one day. Sophisticated, scary Manda Grenville was behaving like a fifteen-year-old who’d just been smiled at by the hottest guy in school. ‘…before.’
‘Without a suit.’
Without any clothes at all.
She peeled her tongue from the roof of her mouth, rounded up a few brain cells and finally managed a slightly hoarse, ‘How’s your shoulder?’ It wasn’t sparkling conversation, but it was safer than the pictures in her head of Nick Jago naked beneath a waterfall. Nick Jago with his mouth…
‘How are you, Miranda?’
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Absolutely great. Working hard, but…great.’
‘No nightmares?’
‘No…’ No nightmares. Just hot, hot dreams…‘You?’
‘No nightmares,’ he confirmed. ‘Just dreams. Did you get my message?’
‘Ivo told me. Yes. How is it? With your family?’
‘They’ve changed. I’ve met my half-sister, too. I’ve you to thank for that.’
‘You’d have got there.’ Then the hard question. ‘Are you on your own? Didn’t Daisy tell you that you could bring someone.’
‘Why would I bring someone, Miranda,’ He said, ‘when the only person I’m interested in being with is here already?’
‘Really?’ Trying to be cool when you needed a cold shower was never easy, but she did her best, looking around the widest shoulders in the room before saying, ‘I haven’t spotted the slinky blonde.’
And finally he smiled. As if she’d just told him everything he wanted to know. Well, she had…
‘Fliss made her bed with Felipe Dominez, Miranda. I advised her to lie on it. I’d have told you that if you’d hung around for another thirty seconds.’
‘Oh.’
‘And you could have thanked her. It was down to her that the rescue services reached us so quickly.’
So Fliss Grant was in love with him, Manda thought, feeling almost sorry for the woman. If he’d loved her in return she would never have written the book…
‘Did she give you back your documents?’
It wouldn’t hurt to remind him of what she’d done.
‘There was no need. I had backup copies of everything. She knew that.’
‘Of course you did.’ Then, ‘So, here you are. Finally. It took you two months to make up my head start of thirty seconds?’
‘I got held up in the village. It was my home for nearly five years…’
‘I’m sorry, Nick. Of course you had to stay. Was it terrible?’
‘No. Just a bit of a mess. Nothing that hard work and a few dollars couldn’t fix.’
‘Money that you supplied.’
He shrugged. ‘It was nothing. I stayed for a week, made sure everything was back on track for them, that’s all.’
Far from all, she suspected…
‘And then?’
‘And then…’ He looked at her for a moment, the smallest smile creasing the corners of his mouth, his eyes. ‘And then, my dearest heart, we both had things to do. Everything happened so fast between us.’
‘Was it fast? It seemed like a lifetime, everything slowed down…’
‘Facing death, everything becomes concentrated, intense. We needed time to catch up. Time with our families. Time for work.’ He took her hand, slid his fingers through hers. ‘The future was waiting for us. We’ve finally caught up with it.’ Then, ‘Are you free after the screening? Can we have dinner? Talk?’
‘Talk? What about?’
‘Book signings. Your documentary. The fact that you knew my father and never told me. The rest of our lives.’
She opened her mouth, closed it again.
‘The rest of our lives?’ she repeated. Then shook her head. ‘No…You can’t…’
‘I’ve spent the last two months thinking about you in every waking hour. Dreaming about you in every sleeping one. And the truth is, Miranda, I can’t not. I want to be with you. Always. Marry me.’
‘Manda? We’re about to begin.’
She looked round, realised that the room was empty apart from Daisy, who was holding the screening room door open.
‘Go ahead without me,’ she said.
‘But…’
‘I’ll catch the rerun, Daisy. Right now, I’ve got the rest of my life to plan.’
They found a small Italian bistro nearby. Manda couldn’t have said what she ate, or how it tasted, or even what they talked about. Only that they talked and laughed and that suddenly everything was in its place.
When they finally emerged into the chill of the December night, Christmas lights everywhere, Nick said, ‘How did you get here?’
