Miranda's Big Mistake by Jill Mansell Page A

heated. You l-lied to me.’
    â€˜I didn’t.’ He grinned, his teeth dazzlingly white against his tanned face. ‘I told you the water was fantastic, I didn’t say anything about it being warm.’
    â€˜I am going to get into so much trouble for this.’ Miranda glanced fearfully up at Tabitha’s bedroom window. No sign of Fenn’s outraged face, thank goodness.
    â€˜Oh, come on, you’re in now.’ Her teammate held the melon towards her in enticing fashion. ‘Just one game.’
    â€˜I’ve got my shoes on.’
    â€˜Take them off.’
    â€˜I’m still wearing all my clothes!’
    He didn’t say anything, just grinned at her. His eyes were extraordinary, Miranda realized now that she was close enough to tell, an intense greeny-blue with yellow flecks.
    â€˜Hey, you two! Are we playing watermelon or not?’
    The one in the multicolored trunks had by this time clambered out of the pool. ‘Over here!’ he bellowed, pointing to his forehead.
    â€˜Don’t!’ Miranda clapped both hands over her eyes as her teammate took aim. ‘You’ll knock him unconscious.’
    â€˜Nothing knocks Johnnie unconscious.’
    He was right. The melon came off worse. The force of the impact split it in half, and seeds and juice exploded in all directions like shrapnel.
    â€˜Ouch,’ said Johnnie, scooping a lump of orange melon flesh off his shoulder and popping it into his mouth.
    â€˜You killed it,’ Miranda said sorrowfully. ‘I’m reporting you to the MLF.’
    â€˜Too late,’ murmured her playing partner as Fenn appeared on the terrace. ‘Looks like they’re already here.’

Chapter 13
    Miranda sat huddled on one of the kitchen chairs with a towel around her shoulders and a spreading puddle of chlorinated water at her feet. Her teeth chattered dramatically against the rim of her coffee cup. Her hair, which had been subjected to a cruelly brisk towel-dry by Fenn, stood out in spikes.
    â€˜I can’t take you anywhere.’
    â€˜It wasn’t my fault,’ Miranda protested. ‘Blame melon-head. He was the one who threw me in.’
    â€˜But why does it always have to happen to you?’ Mystified, Fenn shook his head.
    â€˜I don’t know. Stuff just does.’ Even as a child, Miranda gloomily remembered, her despairing mother had called her incident-prone.
    â€˜Those naughty boys,’ said Tabitha, appearing in the doorway with an armful of dry clothes. ‘I’m going to give them a good talking-to. Here you are, darling, pop upstairs to my room and get yourself out of those wet things.’
    In Tabitha’s bedroom, Miranda peeled off her sodden clothes, dried herself and changed into a white sweatshirt and leggings. Sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on a pair of pink angora socks, she felt something crackle behind her and pulled out a copy of the Daily Mail from under the rumpled bedspread.
    Tabitha had even left it lying open at the gossip page, which was handy. One sock on and one sock off, Miranda leaned over to find out exactly what Daisy Schofield had been up to on Wednesday night.
    There was a knock on the door.
    â€˜Are you decent?’
    â€˜As I’ll ever be.’
    The bedroom door swung open. Her teammate, now fully dressed and with his blond hair slicked back from his face, said, ‘Is your boss furious with you?’
    â€˜No, but I’m not too thrilled with you.’ Miranda recognized him at once with his clothes on. She pointed an accusing finger at the photograph in the paper. ‘What were you doing on Wednesday night with Daisy Schofield?’
    He grinned.
    â€˜Are you sure you want to know?’
    No wonder he had looked familiar. Miles Harper, Formula One racing driver, had burst on to the motor-racing scene less than a year ago, but the publicity he attracted was unrelenting. With his extravagant good looks, undoubted