‘No I’m not,’ said Tom.
‘Yes you are.’ Poppy jabbed an accusing finger at his hand. How could she not have noticed it before? After all those things she’d said, too. How embarrassing.
‘No he isn’t,’ said the waitress, looking at Poppy as if she were mad. ‘That’s his right hand.’ Nodding at the other half of the pair she added kindly, ‘That one’s his left.’
‘Sorry.’ Poppy tried to shrink into her chair. ‘I’m dyslexic.’
‘The thing is,’ said Tom when the waitress had sauntered back to the kitchen, ‘I’m not married. But I am kind of… well, involved with someone.’
Buggeration. In an effort to appear laid-back, Poppy picked up her glass and swilled the wine before sipping it. Sadly it swilled out of the glass and onto the white tablecloth.
‘I see.’ So much for laid-back. ‘How involved?’
‘On a scale of one to ten? Five. Maybe six.’ He watched her mop ineffectually at the wet tablecloth and smiled. ‘But at least I won’t have to get a divorce.’
‘I’m single. Unattached, I mean.’
‘I know. Jake told me.’
‘What else has he said?’ Poppy wondered if she wanted to hear this. If Jake had made her out to be some kind of sad charity case she would die. Her heart skipped a couple of uncomfortable beats as another thought struck her. ‘My God, he didn’t pay you to come and see me, did he?’
Tom burst out laughing.
‘This is getting less romantic by the second. Do I look like a gigolo?’
The thing was, he was so gorgeous, he did rather.
‘You could be.’ Poppy felt herself going pink. ‘I’m sorry, I’m a bit confused. I keep wondering if this is a huge joke. I don’t know what’s supposed to happen next.’ She glugged down the remains of her wine. ‘I feel like I’ve been given an instruction manual and it’s in Japanese.’
‘Not that bad.’ He was teasing her again. ‘At least I speak English.’
‘I don’t even know your surname.’
‘That’s an easy one. Kennedy.’
‘Are you really a doctor?’
‘Did you think I was?’ Tom grinned. ‘No, it was all I could come up with at the time to explain away the fact that your foot was in my lap. Somehow chiropodist didn’t have the same ring.’
‘You’re a chiropodist?’ Poppy bit her lip. She didn’t know if she could fall in love with someone whose life revolved around other people’s feet.
‘I’m an architect.’ His smile broadened. ‘Is that all right with you?’
Phew. ‘Oh yes, much better.’
‘Next question.’
The waitress returned with more wine, giving Poppy time to gather her scattered thoughts. Her lamb cutlets looked heavenly, but she hadn’t been able to eat a thing.
‘Go on,’ prompted Tom while she dithered with her napkin.
‘That night. What would have happened if I’d met you in Delgado’s?’
He grew serious. ‘We wouldn’t have wasted the past year.’
It hadn’t been wasted. She had found Alex. Still, Poppy held her breath.
‘We might not have got on.’
‘You felt the same way as I did. How often does that kind of thing happen?’
Helplessly she said, ‘So… what now?’
‘We make up for lost time.’ His dark eyes were intense. ‘We aren’t going to eat this, are we? I’ll get the bill.’
‘But… this girlfriend of yours.’
Tom shrugged. ‘It’s over.’
‘Oh God, won’t she be upset?’
Taking Poppy’s hand, he drew her to her feet and kissed her full on the mouth. Almost instantly he pulled away.
‘No, not here. I can’t kiss you how I want to kiss you. Of course she’ll be upset. I imagine your chap was upset when you called off the wedding. But you and me… when these things happen, they happen.’
Quivering, Poppy said, ‘Yes, but—’
‘Don’t argue. It’s destiny. I’m not going to lose you again.’
Tom settled the bill. Outside, he hailed a cab. It was still raining.
‘You don’t have to go back to work, by the way.’ He brushed droplets of rain from her flushed cheeks. ‘Jake’s given you the rest of the day off.’
‘That’s even more of a miracle than you turning up,’ Poppy joked feebly.
The cab had drawn to a halt in front of them.
‘I know how I’d like to spend the afternoon,’ said Tom as he helped her in, ‘but say if it’s too soon. I don’t want to pressure you.’
‘Are you kidding?’ Poppy was practically melting with lust. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’
‘Right, it’s make your mind up time,’ said the world-weary driver. ‘Your place or his?’
So the nosy cabbie couldn’t hear, Poppy whispered, shamefaced, ‘I’ve only got a single bed.’
Tom squeezed her hand. ‘That’s nothing. I’ve got a girlfriend with a key to my flat.’
***
The house was empty when they reached it. Claudia was at work and there had been no sign of Caspar for days. Poppy, who knew what a state the kitchen had been in when she’d raced out of the house that morning, took Tom straight downstairs.
‘Welcome to my rabbit hutch.’ She gestured around the tiny, messy room. ‘If I’d known you were coming I’d have made the bed.’
Tom took her into his arms.
‘Are you nervous?’
‘Of course I’m nervous. Would I be making this many bad jokes if I wasn’t?’
‘Sshh.’ He pulled her closer. ‘No more jokes. Time for that kiss I couldn’t give you earlier.’
The one good thing about horrible clothes, thought Poppy, was you couldn’t wait to get them off. And they made your body look better by comparison.
‘You are beautiful,’ said Tom. ‘I mean it.’
‘Don’t sound so surprised.’
‘Well, you never know. Some girls look stunning until you see them naked. Then you realize it was all industrial-strength knickers and Wonderbra. One minute they’re up here, the next… whoomph. Talk about a letdown.’
Poppy glanced at her own modest breasts. ‘I don’t have enough to let down.’
‘I said no more jokes.’ His dark eyes softened. ‘You’re perfect.’
‘Well,’ said Poppy an hour later, ‘that was definitely perfect.’
‘Not to mention long overdue.’
She lay in his arms and gazed around her room, seeing it as Tom must see it.
‘Sorry. This place is such a pit.’
‘Never mind, I’m here now.’ He raised himself up on one elbow and planted a necklace of kisses around her throat. ‘I’ll take you away from all this.’
‘That won’t help.’ Poppy closed her eyes, squirming with pleasure as he ran warm fingers across her bare stomach. ‘I can be untidy anywhere. It’s pro rata. The bigger the space, the more mess I make.’
‘Sshh.’ Tom kissed her again. Then he made love to Poppy a second time, slowly and thoroughly, until overcome by the events of the day she sobbed with joy.
A sheen of perspiration covered Poppy’s body. The duvet cover was sticking to her hips.
‘A bath.’ She reached over Tom, peering at her wristwatch on the bedside table. ‘That’s okay, only four o’clock. Claudia won’t be home for ages yet.’ She double-checked the time. ‘How amazing.’
Tom seized her arms and pulled her down on top of him.
‘What?’
‘It’s only four o’clock,’ Poppy sighed between kisses. ‘I feel as if we’ve been in bed together for days.’
Shaking off rain like a dog, Caspar let himself into the house. Getting away from London for the weekend was all very well—he and Babette had driven down to the Cotswolds and stayed in an hotel teeming with golfers in loud sweaters—but his commissions were piling up. Back in the real world he had work to do.
Incredibly, Bella McCloud had decided to forgive him. Now back in the country following a triumphant appearance at La Scala, the diva had instructed her manager to reschedule a series of sittings with the so-handsome young artist who had had the audacity to stand her up.
She was meeting him here in—Caspar checked his watch—twenty minutes. He lit a cigarette, since her manager had already warned him he wouldn’t be able to smoke in La McCloud’s presence. Wondering if this meant opera singers never went into pubs after a hard day’s warbling, Caspar made his way slowly upstairs.
When he reached the first-floor landing he realized the house wasn’t empty, as he had first thought. Something was going on in the bathroom. And whoever was in there clearly wasn’t alone.
Claudia? Had she and Jake got it together at last? Or was she here with her new boss, having sloped out of the office for a naughty afternoon off? Amused by this idea—giving Claudia a lift into work the other week, he had seen her middle-aged boss ogle her across the car park—Caspar listened to the sounds of shrieks and splashing filtering through the bathroom door.
Then he heard Poppy, helpless with laughter, scream, ‘No, no, not the cold water—oh you sod!’
Not Claudia. Poppy.
Caspar’s blood ran cold. What the bloody hell did she think she was playing at? Even more to the point, who was she with?
More giggles and shrieks. Caspar felt his hands curling into angry fists. Of course he knew who Poppy was with. It had to be that prat from the photographs, the lanky one with the inane grin Poppy had so boisterously entertained here while he and Claudia had both been away.
Without stopping to think what he was doing, Caspar marched up to the door and hammered on it. The door, which had been left unlocked, burst open.