Fast Friends by Jill Mansell Page A

and entered the room,
‘why don’t we just forget what’s happened and introduce ourselves. I’m Nico.’
    Having begun to see the funny side of this utterly
ridiculous situation a few minutes earlier
whilst she was buried beneath her
duvet, Camilla now emerged from its snowy depths and took Nico’s
solemnly proffered hand.
    ‘Delighted to meet you,’ she said, her eyes sparkling with
suppressed laughter. ‘Jane Smith.’
    ‘The truth,’ demanded Nico severely. ‘After all, you no
longer have anything to hide from me.’
    Camilla nodded. When their first
initial encounter had been that revealing, what could she have to hide? It just amazed her that in the presence of such a stunning looking man — presumably one of Loulou’s many boyfriends – she
could actually retain her sense of
humour. Slowly, she pushed back the duvet and emerged from the bed,
fully clothed.
    ‘ I have to say,’
murmured Nico conspiratorially, ‘that I preferred you as you were
earlier, but either way you make a terrific spaghetti Bolognese.’
    ‘ You’re welcome to have some. I cooked it for
Loulou but there’s way too much for her to finish. Shall I heat it up now?’
    ‘What about
you?’
    ‘ Diet,’ said Camilla
firmly, patting her stomach. Nico pulled a face. Having inherited more than his share of Italian
genes he appreciated sensuous, beautifully
rounded figures like the one this
mysterious female possessed. As far as he was concerned most women these
days were far too thin.
    ‘ I’ll eat if you’ll eat,’ he told her, pulling
her to her feet. ‘And we’ll save some for
Lou when she gets back. Agreed?’
    ‘ Agreed.’
    Nico was totally captivated by Camilla’s
reluctant smile, dragged
from her quite against her will. A man surrounded wherever he went by women offering
him anything he desired, he felt as
ridiculously triumphant now as if he had succeeded in single-handedly taming a
wild tiger cub. For this woman, quite obviously, had no idea at all who he was.
    ‘ Are you a friend of
Loulou’s?’ she was asking him now as she padded barefoot into the
kitchen and filled a heavy saucepan with water. Then she pulled a wry face. ‘How
stupid of me. Of course you’re a friend,
otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Have you known her long?’
    ‘A few years,’ said Nico, salting the water whilst she
ripped open a new packet of spaghetti.
Camilla watched him and smiled again. How odd, she thought, that she
could chat so freely to this complete stranger and feel so completely at ease
with him. And how very different it was from
her disastrous encounter last week with Miles Cooper-Clarke. Tall, rangy
in his black sweatshirt and drastically
faded Levis, with his streaky blond hair
falling across his tanned forehead and his thickly lashed green eyes narrowed with concentration, he was
stirring the sauce like an expert.
    ‘Are you in the restaurant business as well?’ she asked
with interest. He certainly didn’t look like
a chef, but then neither did Robert, who worked for Lou.
    ‘ I was, years ago,’ said
Nico, who had once worked in McDonald’s
for extra cash when he was still at school. She really didn’t have any idea who
he was, he thought, feeling more
cheerful than he had for days. ‘Right. Spaghetti’s on, sauce is simmering, so we have a few minutes to
ourselves. What are all these?’
    Turning away from the kitchen he was pointing towards the pile of still unwrapped presents in the centre of
the floor. ‘Scrabble! I haven’t
played Scrabble since I was a kid. My sisters used to hit me if I
spelled a word wrong.’
    ‘ I bought it for my son,
he’s eight,’ Camilla told him and Nico thought: Married. Of course. He
almost said jokingly: ‘I should have guessed; wonderful child-bearing hips,’
but realized in time that a woman who was
capable of blushing all over probably wouldn’t appreciate the observation.
Not that it was intended as a criticism by any means; he thought well-rounded
hips were