turning pink and giving him a furious look.
He paused on the doorstep of the restaurant and looked down at her. ‘You look lovely,’ he said softly, and Sian was dry-mouthed and silenced.
They sat in the shadowy little bar before they went into the restaurant itself; Cass ordered a Kir for her and a cocktail for himself. Sian was self-conscious, aware that already people were watching them. Press? Or just fellow-diners who recognised them from that morning’s papers? Either way, she hated being stared at, and got up.
‘I won’t be long, I’m going to the powder-room,’ she told Cass, as he rose too.
There wasn’t much she could do about her dress, but she washed her hot face and renewed her makeup, spent some time doing her blonde hair, sprayed perfume behind her ears and at her wrists, then stared accusingly at her reflection. Why was she here with Cass, in spite of all her brave resolutions about never seeing him again? She knew what he was up to; he had boldly admitted it. He was a user; he had used her shamelessly from the start, and he would go on doing it if she let him. Why was she being such a fool?
The image in the mirror had no answers; it stared back, green eyes far too big and far too bright, too excited for safety. She looked grimly at herself.
‘You make me sick, do you know that? You shouldn’t be let out on your own.’
The door opened, and another girl came in and looked at her in surprise, then amusement. She had clearly overheard Sian talking to herself.
‘It isn’t any good, you know!’ she said, laughing.
‘What isn’t?’ Sian asked, taken aback.
‘Telling yourself off. You never take any notice. Or at least, I don’t!’ She giggled and Sian smiled before going back to join Cass.
He was leaning back against the velvet-covered seat, his glass in one hand, his face reflective, but as she came towards him his eyes focused on her and roved from her smoothly brushed blonde hair down over her slim figure in the black and white striped dress to her long, shapely legs. It was an openly assessing stare, and Sian bristled under it.
She sat down and gave him a cold look. ‘Is our table ready yet?’ The sooner this meal was over and she got away, the better she would like it.
‘You haven’t finished your drink.’
She picked up the glass and drained the pink liquid. ‘I have now.’
Cass laughed and swallowed the last of his own drink before getting up. Their table was in an alcove fringed with drooping fern; a private little corner, except that to get to their tables other diners had to walk past them, and each time glanced curiously into the alcove. That apparently didn’t bother Cass; he wanted to be seen with her and blandly ignored the stares, but Sian fretted under them, resenting it every time.
The menu had been one long list of very rich food, so she had chosen the simplest things available—tomato salad followed by plainly cooked sole served with a tossed green salad. The tomatoes were thinly sliced, dressed in olive oil and basil; the flavour was delicious. While they ate, Cass talked casually about his work, his family, his home, and Sian listened without saying much.
‘Am I boring you?’ he asked, sounding aggrieved, and she looked up.
‘No.’ Their eyes met and she smiled suddenly, seeing the expression he wore. ‘Not at all. I’m a reporter, remember. I’m always curious about other people. In fact, I’m curious about everything.’
‘Hmm,’ he said, eyeing her. ‘I thought you were being monosyllabic because you were bored rigid. I keep forgetting your job. You’re a dangerous woman to have around, aren’t you? I’m telling you far too much about myself.’
Before she answered that, a man strolled past the alcove and turned his head to look at them. Becoming aware of him, Sian glanced his way at the same moment, and each recognised the other in shock.
‘Louis!’ She sounded breathless, almost guilty, and went pink.
‘Sian! What on earth
He paused on the doorstep of the restaurant and looked down at her. ‘You look lovely,’ he said softly, and Sian was dry-mouthed and silenced.
They sat in the shadowy little bar before they went into the restaurant itself; Cass ordered a Kir for her and a cocktail for himself. Sian was self-conscious, aware that already people were watching them. Press? Or just fellow-diners who recognised them from that morning’s papers? Either way, she hated being stared at, and got up.
‘I won’t be long, I’m going to the powder-room,’ she told Cass, as he rose too.
There wasn’t much she could do about her dress, but she washed her hot face and renewed her makeup, spent some time doing her blonde hair, sprayed perfume behind her ears and at her wrists, then stared accusingly at her reflection. Why was she here with Cass, in spite of all her brave resolutions about never seeing him again? She knew what he was up to; he had boldly admitted it. He was a user; he had used her shamelessly from the start, and he would go on doing it if she let him. Why was she being such a fool?
The image in the mirror had no answers; it stared back, green eyes far too big and far too bright, too excited for safety. She looked grimly at herself.
‘You make me sick, do you know that? You shouldn’t be let out on your own.’
The door opened, and another girl came in and looked at her in surprise, then amusement. She had clearly overheard Sian talking to herself.
‘It isn’t any good, you know!’ she said, laughing.
‘What isn’t?’ Sian asked, taken aback.
‘Telling yourself off. You never take any notice. Or at least, I don’t!’ She giggled and Sian smiled before going back to join Cass.
He was leaning back against the velvet-covered seat, his glass in one hand, his face reflective, but as she came towards him his eyes focused on her and roved from her smoothly brushed blonde hair down over her slim figure in the black and white striped dress to her long, shapely legs. It was an openly assessing stare, and Sian bristled under it.
She sat down and gave him a cold look. ‘Is our table ready yet?’ The sooner this meal was over and she got away, the better she would like it.
‘You haven’t finished your drink.’
She picked up the glass and drained the pink liquid. ‘I have now.’
Cass laughed and swallowed the last of his own drink before getting up. Their table was in an alcove fringed with drooping fern; a private little corner, except that to get to their tables other diners had to walk past them, and each time glanced curiously into the alcove. That apparently didn’t bother Cass; he wanted to be seen with her and blandly ignored the stares, but Sian fretted under them, resenting it every time.
The menu had been one long list of very rich food, so she had chosen the simplest things available—tomato salad followed by plainly cooked sole served with a tossed green salad. The tomatoes were thinly sliced, dressed in olive oil and basil; the flavour was delicious. While they ate, Cass talked casually about his work, his family, his home, and Sian listened without saying much.
‘Am I boring you?’ he asked, sounding aggrieved, and she looked up.
‘No.’ Their eyes met and she smiled suddenly, seeing the expression he wore. ‘Not at all. I’m a reporter, remember. I’m always curious about other people. In fact, I’m curious about everything.’
‘Hmm,’ he said, eyeing her. ‘I thought you were being monosyllabic because you were bored rigid. I keep forgetting your job. You’re a dangerous woman to have around, aren’t you? I’m telling you far too much about myself.’
Before she answered that, a man strolled past the alcove and turned his head to look at them. Becoming aware of him, Sian glanced his way at the same moment, and each recognised the other in shock.
‘Louis!’ She sounded breathless, almost guilty, and went pink.
‘Sian! What on earth
Similar Books
