Nina Milne – Marooned With The Millionaire (страница 8)

‘Of course if you would prefer we could simply divert to my office and...’

But then she smiled and his words dried up.

‘No. Sorry, you took me by surprise. A picnic sounds lovely, and it does seem the best way to make sure our conversation remains between us.’

‘OK. Great.’

The car pulled into the small car park, and as they climbed out Marcus’s phone rang.

‘Hi, Marcus. I’ve got the picnic and I’ve brought it to Umbrella Copse.’

‘Thank you, Gloria. We’ll be right there.’

Perhaps this would work out after all. He could see April’s appreciation as she tipped her head upwards to catch the dappled rays of the sun that filtered through the luxuriant trees, flecking the vibrant greens with droplets of gold. For an instant his gaze lingered on the elegant length of her neck, then moved over the beauty of her face, the smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose, the...

Stop and focus.

The point was that the lazy drone of bees, the call of the black kites, all seemed to indicate the need for tranquility and concord. Which would hopefully aid him in his quest—the reason he was here. To ensure that April dropped her story.

Then they reached the glade and Marcus came to an abrupt halt as he took in the scene before him.

For a long moment words failed him.

A wooden slatted picnic table was covered in a snow-white tablecloth, and laid with gleaming silver cutlery, fluted crystal glasses and bone china plates. A bottle of Lycander’s best Sauvignon Blanc nestled in a state-of-the-art cooler. A wicker picnic basket was on the bench, and Gloria was busy unpacking an array of delicacies onto large china platters.

She turned and beamed at him. ‘Perfect timing,’ she declared.

Marcus attempted to regroup as he mentally replayed his earlier conversation with Gloria in his head.

‘Hi Gloria. Could I ask a favour? Would you be able to rustle up a picnic for two—nothing fancy?’

Now he said, ‘Gloria—this is...amazing. But you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. I wasn’t expecting anything like this.’

‘It is no trouble.’ The dark-haired woman turned to April. ‘In all the time I have worked with him not once has he asked for a picnic, and not once has he asked us to create a meal for him and a lady—so we decided to make this special.’

Marcus opened his mouth to explain that this was a strictly business lunch and then closed it again. Gloria had gone to a great deal of trouble and, however low on charm he was, he wouldn’t hurt her feelings.

‘It’s fabulous, Gloria. Thank you—and please thank everyone in the kitchens as well.’

‘Of course.’ Gloria arranged a centrepiece posy of freshly picked flowers—a glorious burst of red, orange and yellow blooms—and smiled with satisfaction. ‘Enjoy.’

‘Please add my thanks as well,’ April said, and her voice was full of appreciation but underlaid with a tinge of panic he recognised all too well.

‘You’re very welcome. Enjoy.’ A beaming smile, a nod, and Gloria was gone.

Swallowing the urge to call her back—after all that would be cowardly in the extreme—Marcus looked at April, then at the picnic, and then back at April.

‘Um...’

Forget charm—even the art of conversation had deserted him, and a miasma of awkwardness descended. It seemed clear that April had been thrown a curve ball too—her cool self-containment looked more than a little fragmented.

And then, to his surprise, she gave a small chuckle—a sound that seemed to surprise her as much as it did him.

‘Your face!’ she said. ‘You looked absolutely horrified. Though I have to admit you covered it beautifully.’

He couldn’t help it; her smile transformed her face, lightened it in a way he couldn’t fully explain, and the sight caused his own lips to upturn. ‘I really am sorry. I didn’t want to make you feel awkward. It didn’t cross my mind Gloria would think this was a date.’

‘Because you don’t ever date?’

‘I really don’t.’

Not his thing. The closeness, the questions, the intimacy of a date was not to his liking. Every so often there was a woman—he didn’t embrace celibacy—but if pushed to describe his relationships the adjectives that came to mind were ‘brief’, ‘clean’ and ‘functional’. ‘Relationship’ was too deep a word—they were more like understandings, interludes, soon over and forgotten, conducted discreetly and anonymously, outside of Lycander.

‘I can’t really see the point.’

Her eyebrows arched. ‘Most people would disagree. It’s a chance to get to know someone, work out if you’re compatible...’

‘I don’t need to have dinner with someone to work out compatibility.’

Pink tinged her cheeks and suddenly awareness swept in on the summer breeze, heightening his senses, illuminating the green of the leaves, the glitter of the cutlery in the sunshine, and urging him to step forward and show her exactly how well matched he knew they would be.

She hauled in an audible breath. ‘I wasn’t talking about physical compatibility. I meant...overall compatibility—whether you actually like the other person, have something in common with them.’

‘Nope—still not relevant.’

‘So you are only interested in the physical side of things?’

‘Yes.’

‘At least you’re honest.’

Was it his imagination or did she actually look intrigued rather than critical or outraged? Belatedly his radar kicked in. April was a reporter—of course she was intrigued. She was probably converting his words into some sort of headline right now. Lycander’s Lothario says, ‘Let’s get physical!’

Note to whatever brain cells he had left: this woman is an adversary.

‘Yes.’ He gestured to the table. ‘Anyway, we seem to be off track. Now we’ve established that this isn’t a date I think we should get started.’

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