stammering idiot of his youth.
She tossed back her head and laughed. “Dear Lord, Gavin, what a stuffed shirt you’ve become. It’s not as though I’ll mind sleeping with you.” She slid her gaze over him, and he felt himself warming not only from embarrassment but also from desire. “I rather think I shan’t mind it at all.”
“Be that as it may, ours is a platonic arrangement.”
“Platonic?” She frowned as though puzzling out the word.
“We will be friends, good friends, as we’ve always been, but I won’t press for more.”
She seemed to find that funny. “I assure you, Gavin, I’ve had any number of men call themselves ‘my very good friends,’ and it’s not stopped them from taking me to bed.”
He shook his head at her. Really, what else was he to do? “Do you always speak so … freely?”
She answered with a blithe smile and a toss of her head. If she caught the censure underlying the question, she was choosing to ignore it. “Unfortunately, not nearly as often as I’d like. The aim of an entertainer is to please, after all. Not just the audience, but also the stage manager, the chorus director, the promoter. Why, even the lighting crew has a say up to a point. It’s not often I have the chance to tell someone exactly what I think.”
“I see,” he said and the odd thing was he did. They might be occupy opposite ends of the social ladder and yet he, too, had made it his lifetime’s work to please others, first his grandfather and later his colleagues and clients, judges, and juries, doing his utmost to live up to the St. John legacy.
In truth, he didn’t know whether to feel flattered at how quickly she’d come around to feeling at ease with him—or stung that in the respect category he apparently ranked somewhere between the dustman who swept the stage between performances and the crew of stagehands who cleared and set up the props. He settled on mildly put out.
“In future, should you wish to temper your running commentary with a modicum of courtesy, I won’t take it amiss. Pretend I’m someone
important,
if that helps you.”
She answered with a mock pout, a look he found at once sultry and adorable. “My, my, aren’t we touchy today.”
“That would be because
we
have been up and about since dawn unlike some persons who apparently prefer to spend the morning lying abed.” The latter was a veiled reference to her insistence she couldn’t possibly call on him before noon.
“I’m sure I’m up and about the same amount of time a day as you are only I keep theater hours.”
“We’re not in the theater at present.”
She grinned, the smile unearthing the matching pair of pretty dimples on either side of her softly pointed chin. “Aren’t we, now? Haven’t you heard, ducks, all the world’s a stage?”
CHAPTER SIX
“Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool I;
when I was at home, I was in a better place:
but travelers must be content.”
—W ILLIAM S HAKESPEARE , Touchstone,
As You Like It
L ater that day, Daisy stood in the center of her rented rooms, the contents of her closet spread out upon the floor at her feet. She’d paid the month’s rent in advance and there was no reason not to keep the place until that time. If things with Gavin didn’t work out, she would have an escape route, a haven, though at the moment she was very much looking forward to leaving behind the ever present smell of baking.
Packing the rest of the things she meant to bring with her should be easily accomplished. Had Freddie and the Lakes accompanied her, the move across town would have been a far more complicated affair. No matter how many times they’d moved or how short the stay planned, Flora always insisted the trunks be unloaded, the china and furnishings and sundry accoutrements of civilized life all unwrapped and laid out, the clothing unpacked and hung in closets or folded neatly in drawers. By the end of the first day, there wouldn’t have been a single storage box
She tossed back her head and laughed. “Dear Lord, Gavin, what a stuffed shirt you’ve become. It’s not as though I’ll mind sleeping with you.” She slid her gaze over him, and he felt himself warming not only from embarrassment but also from desire. “I rather think I shan’t mind it at all.”
“Be that as it may, ours is a platonic arrangement.”
“Platonic?” She frowned as though puzzling out the word.
“We will be friends, good friends, as we’ve always been, but I won’t press for more.”
She seemed to find that funny. “I assure you, Gavin, I’ve had any number of men call themselves ‘my very good friends,’ and it’s not stopped them from taking me to bed.”
He shook his head at her. Really, what else was he to do? “Do you always speak so … freely?”
She answered with a blithe smile and a toss of her head. If she caught the censure underlying the question, she was choosing to ignore it. “Unfortunately, not nearly as often as I’d like. The aim of an entertainer is to please, after all. Not just the audience, but also the stage manager, the chorus director, the promoter. Why, even the lighting crew has a say up to a point. It’s not often I have the chance to tell someone exactly what I think.”
“I see,” he said and the odd thing was he did. They might be occupy opposite ends of the social ladder and yet he, too, had made it his lifetime’s work to please others, first his grandfather and later his colleagues and clients, judges, and juries, doing his utmost to live up to the St. John legacy.
In truth, he didn’t know whether to feel flattered at how quickly she’d come around to feeling at ease with him—or stung that in the respect category he apparently ranked somewhere between the dustman who swept the stage between performances and the crew of stagehands who cleared and set up the props. He settled on mildly put out.
“In future, should you wish to temper your running commentary with a modicum of courtesy, I won’t take it amiss. Pretend I’m someone
important,
if that helps you.”
She answered with a mock pout, a look he found at once sultry and adorable. “My, my, aren’t we touchy today.”
“That would be because
we
have been up and about since dawn unlike some persons who apparently prefer to spend the morning lying abed.” The latter was a veiled reference to her insistence she couldn’t possibly call on him before noon.
“I’m sure I’m up and about the same amount of time a day as you are only I keep theater hours.”
“We’re not in the theater at present.”
She grinned, the smile unearthing the matching pair of pretty dimples on either side of her softly pointed chin. “Aren’t we, now? Haven’t you heard, ducks, all the world’s a stage?”
CHAPTER SIX
“Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool I;
when I was at home, I was in a better place:
but travelers must be content.”
—W ILLIAM S HAKESPEARE , Touchstone,
As You Like It
L ater that day, Daisy stood in the center of her rented rooms, the contents of her closet spread out upon the floor at her feet. She’d paid the month’s rent in advance and there was no reason not to keep the place until that time. If things with Gavin didn’t work out, she would have an escape route, a haven, though at the moment she was very much looking forward to leaving behind the ever present smell of baking.
Packing the rest of the things she meant to bring with her should be easily accomplished. Had Freddie and the Lakes accompanied her, the move across town would have been a far more complicated affair. No matter how many times they’d moved or how short the stay planned, Flora always insisted the trunks be unloaded, the china and furnishings and sundry accoutrements of civilized life all unwrapped and laid out, the clothing unpacked and hung in closets or folded neatly in drawers. By the end of the first day, there wouldn’t have been a single storage box
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